Page 145 of Royal Bargain

I’m looking at him.

Anatoly.

He hasn’t said a word since I mentioned Miranda’s name. He just stood there, staring at the floor, muttering like a man trying to exorcise a ghost.

But now—now his shoulders are stiff. His mouth tight. His eyes… distant.

He knows something.

I can feel it.

The way his expression shifted, the way his whole body went still—it’s not shock. It’s recognition.

He knows her.

My stomach turns.

Could it really be her? Could Miranda Voss—the poised, polished woman who pulled Ana out of the shadows and handed her a microphone, who helped Darcy with her book, who pushed Clary to go to fashion school, who introduced Rory to SenatorBurns—have been integrating herself into our family this whole time?

I only suspected.

But Anatoly’s face tells me I’m right.

And then, Anatoly speaks.

Quiet. Clear.

“Miranda Voss isn’t her real name.”

Everyone freezes.

His gaze is fixed somewhere far off—like he’s seeing another time, another life.

“I knew her once. But not as Miranda.” He swallows hard, the name catching like ash in his throat. “She went by something else back then. A name I haven’t heard in over forty years.”

He looks at Ana.

Then at me.

Then past all of us.

“I knew her as Mira Cross.”

A beat of stunned silence follows.

My blood runs cold.

“I knew I recognized her,” he murmurs. “Same eyes. Same mouth when she smiles like she’s got a secret.”

He exhales, low and bitter.

“Mira is my stepsister.”

A fresh wave of stillness ripples across the room—shocked and jagged, like everyone just realized the floor beneath us is rotten.

“And it seems…” Anatoly says slowly, voice like rusted steel, “she’s been playing us all.”

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