Page 144 of Cruel Juliet

I ran because of you.

I disappeared because of you.

I let my mother think I was dead, let my brothers mourn me, lost the only family I’d ever had?—

All because of you.

“Then Maksim found you.”

He pats my brother’s back, but Maks doesn’t look proud of himself. His gaze keeps darting away from mine. I can read the shame on his face, the second thoughts. I know, because I’ve been there, too. Making choices, facing regret.

“Unfortunately, he didn’t have the presence of mind to tell me. He told Anatoli instead. I assume you know how that turned out.”

I do. I wish I didn’t, but I do.

And yet, the alternative would have been worse. If I hadn’t told Petyr what Anatoli was planning, it would have been my husband dead on those docks. I couldn’t let that happen.

“Then Feliks picked up your trail,” Father continues. “He thought he’d go a different way. Get you last.” He clicks his tongue. “Again, that didn’t end well for him.”

His lips curl with disappointment. Not grief—disappointment. Like Feliks got himself killed for nothing and that was an inconvenience. A nuisance rather than a tragedy.

If I ever needed a reminder of why I ran, Dad is doing a spectacular job of giving it to me.

“So I had to step in.” His cold eyes finally find mine. “And I had to find out what you did.”

“WhatIdid?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he roars, his composure suddenly gone. “You married the enemy. A Gubarev. And just to spite me a little more, you whelped for him. Had his ugly little bastard.”

“My daughter isn’t a bastard,” I growl.

And she sure as fuck isn’t ugly,I want to add, but my father cuts me off.

“She’s not a Danilo, that’s for sure.” He glares at me like I’m dirt. A stain on his perfect track record. “And neither are you.”

“Finally, something we can agree on.”

The slap comes before I can even blink.

Pain bursts across my cheek, bright and electric. My balance falters, and I hit the floor hard. The cold marble knocks the air out of me.

Terror floods my chest. He might actually kill me this time. And all I can think—stupidly, hopelessly—is that I’ll never see Petyr or Lilia again.

“Father!” Maksim’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. He shoves past one of the guards and crouches beside me. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Stay out of this,” our father snaps. “You think she’s family? She’s a traitor.”

“She’s your daughter,” Maksim protests. “My sister. She’s alive—isn’t that good news?”

“No.” His tone freezes us both. “She became a Gubarev bitch. I’d rather she was dead.”

It shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does. Shouldn’t sear through me like a knife through the heart, but God help me, it does.

Because this is my dad. The first man who should have protected me from the world. And he’s saying he’d rather have his daughter dead than married to the enemy?

Is that how little he loves me?

I don’t know why I’m surprised. Maybe, stupidly, part of me was hoping my father would act differently. That age and time would have softened his edges enough to let him see the error in his ways, make him want to change.