Page 108 of Blood & Snow

"Holy…" My voice cracks, though I already know the answer.

Irina emerges from the kitchen, her face a mask of controlled fury.

Dark hair pulled back severely, hazel eyes narrowed to slits.

She holds a dish towel in her hands, wringing it between her fingers.

"Welcome home," she says, her tone deceptively calm.

The children continue their excited chatter, oblivious to the tension crackling between their mother and me.

Anya tugs on my coat, pointing to a particularly large box wrapped in silver paper.

"That one's for you, Aunty Nadya. It's huge!"

I kneel to her level, forcing a smile that feels foreign on my face.

"Did anyone see who brought all these beautiful things?"

My hands are shaking and I pray that Xander hasn't made himself known here.

That if by some tiny miracle of achance he did this without being seen.

But her response sickens me further.

"A man in a black coat," Mikhail says, mimicking adult seriousness.

"He had helpers. They said Ded Moroz wanted to surprise good children who missed their babushka."

The mention of our mother twists the knife already lodged in my chest.

Xander knows exactly how to strike at the heart of what we've lost, how to make his generosity feel both blessing and curse.

I find myself growing as angry as Irina at the thought, because he knows how I fear upsetting her.

I've told him a dozen times already, and this crosses the line.

"Children, go wash your hands for dinner," Irina commands, her voice cutting through their excitement.

I rise slowly and stand there staring at that godforsaken tree in shock and horror.

My palms are sweating, heart racing, and my sister closes in on me.

They protest briefly but obey, disappearing down the hallway toward the bathroom.

The moment their footsteps fade, Irina rounds on me.

"How much debt are you in?"

"What?"

I hiss, spinning to take her in as I shut the door.

I'm feeling defensive instantly because Xander's grand gesture has left me in a position I can't defend.

It's like he's pushing me to just tell the truth and that's the worst idea in the world.

"The tree alone costs more than you make in two months cleaning hotel rooms."