3. Aria
ARIA
The house is obscene.
That’s my first thought as the SUV pulls through iron gates that close behind us with a mechanical hum that sounds like a death knell.
The driveway curves through manicured grounds lit by landscape lighting.
There’s perfectly trimmed hedges, sculptural trees, and a bubbling fountain that probably costs more than I’ve made in the last eight years combined.
The house itself rises from the darkness like something out of a magazine. Three stories of pale stone and enormous windows. There are lights on inside, warm and welcoming, and I can see the ocean beyond it. The Atlantic stretches dark and infinite under the night sky.
Eight years ago, I would have been breathless at the sight of it.
I would have pressed my face to the window and marveled at the beauty, the luxury, and the sheer wealth on display.
Now all I see is the prison it is.
Security cameras are mounted at every corner. A high fence surrounds the property.
I glimpse guards in the shadows—three of them at least, maybe more. The isolation of it, set back from the road with nothing but trees and ocean for miles.
There’s no escape from here. Maksim has made sure of that.
Daniel stirs against my shoulder, waking as the car stops. “Mama? Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe, baby.” The lie tastes bitter. “Just rest.”
Maksim gets out first, and a moment later my door opens.
He’s there, silhouetted against the light from the house, and I have to force myself to move and unbuckle Daniel and gather him in my arms, even though he’s getting heavy and my back aches from carrying him earlier.
I won’t let Maksim carry him. I will not let those hands touch my son.
The front door opens as we approach, and a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and sensible shoes appears.
She says something in Russian to Maksim, who responds in the same language.
I catch maybe one word in three—my Russian is rusty and limited to the phrases I picked up working at the gallery in Brighton Beach all those years ago.
Inside, the house is even more beautiful than the exterior. Soaring ceilings, hardwood floors that gleam like glass, and modern art on the walls that I recognize from auction catalogs. A Rothko. Is that a Kandinsky? Pieces worth millions hanging like they’re nothing.
The woman—housekeeper, I assume—leads us up a sweeping staircase to the second floor. Maksim follows behind us, close enough that I can feel his presence like a weight on my shoulders.
We stop in front of a door near the end of the hallway. The woman opens it and steps aside.
“Your rooms,” Maksim says. His first words since we landed.
I step inside and stop. It’s not a room. It’s a suite.
The sitting area is bigger than our entire apartment, with plush cream carpet, a sectional sofa that could seat eight people, and built-in bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes.
A fireplace already flickers with gentle flames. French doors lead to what looks like a private balcony overlooking the ocean.
And toys. So many toys still in their packages. Building blocks, puzzles, action figures, art supplies, stuffed animals.
A fortune in toys scattered across a coffee table and the floor like someone went into a store and bought one of everything.
Daniel lifts his head from my shoulder, and I feel him tense as he takes it all in. His gray eyes go wide.
“Is this…for me?” His voice is small and uncertain.
“Yes.” Maksim’s voice comes from behind us. “All of it.”
“Mama?” Daniel looks at me, seeking permission, and something in my chest cracks.
“We can look later, baby,” I say, even though I can see how badly he wants to explore. “Let’s see where we’ll sleep first.”
There is are two bedrooms off the sitting area.
The first room is clearly meant for Daniel as it looks like something out of Pottery Barn Kids. There’s a full bed with a navy duvet, more toys, and a desk with paper and colored pencils already laid out.
The walls are painted a soft blue, and there are blackout curtains and a nightlight shaped like a rocket ship.
The second bedroom is mine. There’s a queen bed with white linens, a dresser, and a closet that’s huge. Everything is pristine, expensive, and completely impersonal.
The bathroom between the two bedrooms is marble and chrome, with a soaking tub and a shower that has more jets than I can count. Fluffy white towels are stacked on a warming rack.
Toiletries are lined up on the counter.
I recognize the expensive brands from department stores I could never afford to shop in.
It’s more space than Daniel and I have had in years. More luxury than I’ve seen since I left Brighton Beach. Everything a person could need.
And I hate it. I hate every beautiful, expensive inch of it.
Because it’s a cage. A gilded, gorgeous cage, but a cage nonetheless.
“I trust everything is satisfactory.” Maksim is standing in the doorway of the sitting room, watching us.
“It’s fine,” I say shortly.
“There are clothes in the closets. They should fit.” He pauses. “If you need anything, press the call button by the door. Someone will respond.”
“How considerate.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t take the bait. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
He leaves, closing the door behind him, and I suddenly realize I haven’t checked the most important thing.
I set Daniel down on the sofa and walk to the suite door. I go to turn the handle.
It doesn’t move.
I try again, pulling harder. Nothing.
Locked. Of course it’s locked.
“Let me out.” I keep my voice level, aware of Daniel watching. “Open this door right now.”
Maksim is still nearby, because all I hear from beyond the door is, “No.”
My stomach bottoms. “You can’t keep us locked in here like prisoners.”
“I can, and I will.” His voice is hard. “Until I’m sure you won’t try to run with my son. This is your home now.”
“This isn’t a home,” I snap, hating the tremble in my voice. “It’s a prison.”
“Call it whatever you want,” he says coldly. “The door will remain locked at night. During the day, you’ll have access to the house and grounds, but there are guards, cameras, and alarms. If you try to leave with Daniel, you’ll be stopped.”
I gape at the door. “You can’t—!”
“I can. Good night, Aria.” I can hear him start to walk away.
“Maksim!” I’m gripping the door handle so hard my knuckles are white. “You can’t just—”
He’s gone. His footsteps recede down the hallway, then a door closes somewhere in the distance.
I lean my forehead against the door and try to breathe while also trying not to scream. I can’t break down in front of Daniel, who’s already been through too much tonight.
“Mama?” His voice is small behind me. “Are we stuck?”
I turn and force a smile. “Just for tonight, baby. Just until morning.”
“Why did we come here?” He’s hugging his stuffed rabbit, looking at me with those too-knowing gray eyes. “Why did that man make us leave?”
Because I made choices eight years ago that have finally caught up with me.
Because I ran from his father and thought I could hide forever.
Because I was stupid enough to think love could save me from reality.
“It’s complicated, sweetheart.” I cross to the sofa and sit beside him, pulling him into my lap. “But I promise, I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.”
“I’m scared.” He curls against me, and I feel him shaking.
“I know. I’m scared too.” At least that’s honest. “But we’re together, and that’s what matters. Okay?”
He nods against my chest, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. He’s seven years old and already too smart and aware of when adults are lying.
It takes an hour to get him settled in the new bedroom.
He doesn’t want to let go of me and doesn’t want to sleep alone in the unfamiliar bed.
Finally I lie down beside him, still in my clothes, and hold him until his breathing evens out and his grip on my hand loosens.
I slip out carefully and go back to the sitting room.
I try the door again, even though I know it’s useless.
I consider the balcony, but when I check it’s a straight drop to the ground—at least twenty feet, maybe more.
Even if I could get down, there are guards.
Cameras. Alarms.
Maksim has thought of everything.
I end up in my bedroom, sitting on the edge of the too-soft mattress, staring at nothing.
My mind is racing, trying to find a way out of this, trying to think of some escape that doesn’t involve putting Daniel in danger.
There isn’t one.
We’re trapped. Completely, utterly trapped.
And the worst part—the part that makes me want to scream—is that Daniel is finally in a place where he has toys and comfort. Where he’ll have enough to eat. He won’t have to wear secondhand shoes or go to bed hungry.
All the things I couldn’t give him, Maksim can provide without even trying.
I’ve failed as a mother. I’ve failed to protect my son from this world, to keep him safe and happy and free.
The shame of it sits heavy in my chest as I finally change into the pajamas left in the dresser. They’re soft and exactly my size because of course Maksim knows my size and I climb into bed.
I don’t sleep.
Morning comes too soon and not soon enough.
I hear Daniel stirring in his room and go to check on him. He’s sitting up in bed, clutching his rabbit, looking small and lost in the big room.
“Morning, Danny boy.” I sit on the edge of his bed and smooth his hair back. It’s sticking up in all directions. “How’d you sleep?”
“Okay.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Mama, I’m hungry.”
My stomach twists. Of course he is. He barely ate yesterday except for those sandwiches on the plane, and that was hours ago. Growing boys need food, need calories—
“We’ll have breakfast soon,” I promise, even though I have no idea how that’s supposed to work when we’re locked in. Didn’t Maksim say I could push a button if I needed anything? “I’m sure someone will—”