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“When Ark kissed you in the doorway of our home, did he ask first?”
I’m tempted to lie, but I can’t. “No, he didn’t.”
Tillie smiles in gratitude for my honesty. “Because you wanted him to kiss you as much as he wanted to kiss you.”
“Til—”
“Just say it, Mom. Admit he wanted to touch you.”
“I… I…” I’ve got nothing, so I revert to a tactic I will always use to get my way. I remind her that I am her mother before anything else. “It is almost bedtime. Have you brushed your teeth yet?”
“No, but?—”
“No buts, young lady. Oral health is important.” I stack her magazines into a pile, announcing the end of her collaging for today, before nudging my head to the bathroom. “I will join you in a minute.”
She huffs, but that is as far as her protest goes.
As her stomps sound down the hallway, I rub at the kink my neck hasn’t been without the past week. It’s only been seven days since Ark pressed on the brakes, but it honestly feels like ten years.
I’m angry and hormonal and not fit for visitors, so why the hell is someone banging on my door like they’re about to conduct a raid?
I try not to let Tillie’s assumption that Ark dislikes Veronika so much he refuses to touch her quicken my steps, but I race for the door so fast I almost trip over my feet.
As my heart is hoping, an Orlov stands on the other side of my door. It isn’t the one I want, but thankfully, it isn’t the onewho could give Veronika’s claim that I was just a bump in Ark’s path validity.
“Riley… what are you doing here?” I peer past her to make sure she is alone before opening my door further, wordlessly inviting her inside.
She enters slowly, her footing unsteady. “Is Tillie here?”
Her concern for my daughter reminds me that the actions of others should never be placed on the shoulders of a victim.
I nod before gesturing my head to the bathroom. “She’s brushing her teeth.”
“Okay. Good.” She takes a deep breath before blurting out a ton of words without stopping for air. “Everything happening is my fault. When Ark came to see me, I pushed him to admit the truth and used you as an example about how telling isn’t always a bad thing. I thought I got through to him. The way he spoke about you and the things he said made me hopeful your relationship would get better, and then…” She stops, more to hold back a sob than breathe. “I ruined everything, and I don’t know how to make it right.”
“It isn’t your job to make it right.”
“Yes, it is,” she counters, her eyes wet and pleading. “He loves you, Mara, but instead of living his happily-ever-after with you, he’s going to propose to that witch to protect you.”
It hurts to hear that he’s planning to propose to Veronika, but I’m too confused to dwell on jealousy. “How will that protect me?”
For someone seemingly capable of talking underwater, it takes Riley several long seconds to whisper, “From what I overheard, Veronika is as bad as our mother…” Lines burrow in her forehead. “My grandmother.” She nudges her head to the door barely concealing the faint hum of a child brushing her teeth. “She has images and is threatening to expose the nature of Tillie’s conception to her millions of followers.”
I’m disgusted at the lengths some women will go. “She can’t do that. There are laws against naming underage victims of a crime.”
“Veronika doesn’t care. She thinks she’s untouchable.”
I almostpfftuntil I recall how much power she is currently yielding. She has a man as powerful and wealthy as Ark bowing at her feet. I’d feel above the law as well if I were her.
Riley’s hands shake when she gathers mine and squeezes them tight. “Please come to the party with me. You’re the only person capable of getting through to Ark. He will listen to you.”
“I can’t.” I want to believe her theory that I have more power over Ark than Veronika does, but I would be foolish to do that. “If I go and Veronika does as she’s threatening, it will hurt Tillie. She doesn’t know about her father?—”
I choke back a sob when a faint voice from behind whispers, “Yes, I do.” As my wet eyes bounce between a pair almost identical, Tillie slowly exits the bathroom. “You named me Matilda because that’s the team you wanted to play for when you went pro. You said they were the cream of the crop when you attended an international comp just shy of your fourteenth birthday.” A tear plops down my cheek when she says, “There was only one time a Russian female soccer team played in an international tournament. It was just shy of your fourteenth birthday.” She switches some of my sad tears to tears of happiness. “We look so alike Mrs. Lichard thought I had forgotten to tell her I had started playing soccer when she saw the article I searched up on my Nintendo.” She looks remorseful for my tears, and I hate myself for it. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have snooped. I just wanted to know who my dad was and why you never spoke about him.”
“Oh, baby. It’s okay. I should have never kept it from you.” I pull her into my chest so my shirt can catch her tears. “You didn’tdo anything wrong. I need you to know that, okay? I should have been honest. Then you wouldn’t have needed to snoop.”
God. I hate myself. The name on her birth certificate is heavily associated with charges filed against Dr. Babkin in the months following his death. Although he was dead, there was plenty of evidence for a civil suit.