60. Lourdes
Lourdes
Idread today because I have to break the news to Sandrine that Ares and I broke up, and for the good of everyone, I have made the decision to transfer her to the Arizona facility. Like I had planned all along.
I don’t want Ares’s money, and I don’t want his security. Even though, thanks to him, I have the funds I need for her care.
She takes the news calmly. And for a split second, I consider mentioning Kirill. Just to see if it jars something.
But I don’t. I do, however, remind her about Elodie in Scottsdale. We can start a whole life. For a short while, it will once again put her transition therapy on hold. It’s a necessary move for my survival.
“But what about Ares?” she asks me, sitting on the bed in her private room.
My heart breaks because I know Sandrine likes him. Trusts him, and now I have to shatter that trust. “Ares left me a month ago.”
“What?” She exhales quickly. “Where did he go?”
“To a tower he built.” I press one hand to my middle, grounding myself. “What we had…it wasn’t the same thing to him as it was to me.”
Sandrine’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Lourdes.”
“There’s something else, Jess.” We continue to use the alias, since she’s not gotten stable enough to know the truth.
It’s not just her old name we have to hide, it’s now her old life with Kirill Volkov.
“I’m pregnant.”
Shocked, Sandrine says, “Ares left you anyway?”
“No.” I keep my voice steady, so I don’t agitate her by showing how upset I am. “I didn’t tell him. I don’t think he wants children.”
Sandrine frowns. “How can you be so sure that he doesn’t want his own baby?”
The strength and clarity of her voice sets me back. The difference in her cognition and even motor skills have improved so greatly. Am I making a mistake moving her again?
Dr. Masters would have argued if I were, so I press on.
“He doesn’t love me, Jessica.” My hand tightens slightly over my stomach. “And that’s not healthy for a baby.”
“The baby is his heir. And every powerful man wants an heir.”
“He doesn’t want an heir, and—” I stop, and my hands start to shake. “How do you know about powerful men wanting an heir?”
According to the video Kirill sent, she was going to marry the heir to the Bratva. Is part of her buried memory breaking through?
“I… I don’t know,” she says with a shrug.
“That’s okay,” I say softly.
Whoever she was with Kirill, that’s not who she is now.
Powerful men don’t want a disabled wife.
And if he takes her out of some promised obligation, he will never treat her right.
All that I’ve learned about Kirill these past months from articles and photographs of him have revealed that the man is an utter psychopath.
Despite his sinful good looks.
“Let’s focus on you. I can’t raise a child in uncertainty or emotional instability.
When we get to Arizona, I’m staying with Elodie,” I say and take a breath.
“Remember I told you, she’s our cousin on our mom’s side of the family.
Eventually, you and I can live together when you’re moved to an outpatient program. ”
All her reports say she is a candidate for regained independence with support. That support being me. And I’m committed to her.
“And a baby,” she whispers after a small delay.
“Yeah. This is your niece or nephew.” I take her hand and press it against my stomach. “This is our legacy. A piece of Mom and Dad.”
“Legacy…” she repeats.
I hug her. “Arizona has so many healing qualities, and with our cousin there, we’ll be a family again. Soon you’ll start to remember the nice childhood we had. I want us to be the sisters you don’t remember.”
“I’d love that, Lourdes,” she says and hugs me back.
Guilt pounds my head harder than the headache I’ve had all month. Sandrine is where she is because of Ares. But that suited him. That gave him leverage over the Bratva.
None of that matters anymore. The Scottsdale desert is a world away from the mafia world. Arizona is what’s best for Sandrine. And what is best for her is best for me.
After filing for an exit package from Sandrine’s facility, I sit in the backseat of the car Ares bought me and look down at my wrist. My thumb drags over the ink.
The ink that tied me to David. I could remove it. I should remove it.
Laser it off. Burn it away. Start clean, like I should have when I stared down at David’s death certificate.
Instead, I’d be erasing proof that I survived what he did to me.
I’ll survive Ares, too.
Maybe.
Next, I waltz into Daria’s office at Zervas & Company. She’s been dividing her time between here and the Aurelian. She’s seen more of my husband than I have, and he’s in Santorini right now.
I’m not sure how long she or Ares’s brothers or the guards or anyone else around here thinks I’ll stay married to a man who can’t stand to be in the same room with me.
I thought he loved me. Boy, was I wrong. I almost laugh at myself. At how quickly I believed in something that was never real.
“Good morning, Mrs. Zervas,” Daria greets me.
My eyes slip closed. “About that.” I lean against her desk, an index finger on the satiny wood surface. “I want a divorce. Who do I speak to about that?”
Daria doesn’t flinch, just leans back in her chair. “Your husband for one.”
“You know very well he has nothing to say to me.” I straighten.
“I don’t want anything except my freedom.
And we both know if I go to any divorce lawyer in this city, half of all of this will be mine.
I never signed that marriage agreement. I suggest you get Ambrose or some other legal person around here to draft something up by the end of the day.
Either way, I’m leaving.” I spin on my heel, glad I got all of that out on one breath.
“Where are you going?” she asks, halting my steps out of her office.
“I’m taking my sister to a facility in Arizona. I have a cousin who lives there, and I’ll have a place to stay. I’ve already arranged her transfer. That was my plan all along.”
“I’ll prepare the papers and your settlement,” she says.
“Just like that?” I turn around and fold my arms. “He’s waiting for me to end the marriage first, isn’t he? So he doesn’t look like a jerk?”
Daria doesn’t answer that. “You’ll have papers sent to the penthouse in twenty-four hours. Ares will want you to have security.”
“I don’t need guards anymore. Ares has shown the world by moving into the Aurelian without me that I mean nothing to him. And I have assurances that Sandrine means nothing to Kirill. I saw the woman he’s been flaunting all over Chicago.”
“Mafia men are unpredictable. Especially the Bratva. A different kind of blood runs through their veins,” she says.
“Unlike very predictable Greek ones,” I counter. “And I don’t want any settlement. I have the stipend account. That’s still mine, correct?”
“It is,” Daria answers.
The Zervas stipend and the old Nathan Craig funds still sitting in a local bank are more than enough money to start a new life. Monthly alimony is a tie to Ares I don’t want. Regardless of the dollars.
“Thank you. Please have those papers delivered to the penthouse by close of business. Today. Not twenty-four hours.” I don’t give her a chance to respond or argue.
I’m done.