Page 84 of The Russian's Revenge Bride

The room fell silent except for the sound of Ruth’s quiet sobs. I stood there, trying to absorb everything she’d told me. Twenty-one years of lies. Twenty-one years of wondering why I never felt like I belonged in that house, why William always looked at me like I was something distasteful he had to tolerate.

“That’s why,” I said quietly.

“What?”

“That’s why I never felt at home there. That’s why nothing ever felt right.” I looked at her through new eyes. “Some part of me always knew, didn’t it? Some part of me always sensed that William Beaumont wasn’t my father.”

Ruth nodded, tears still streaming down her face. “Children are more perceptive than adults give them credit for. You always gravitated toward Garrison when you were little, before I had to stop bringing you around him.”

I remembered. Vague memories of a man with gentle hands and kind eyes, someone who would lift me up and spin me around while my mother laughed. Someone who looked at me like I was precious.

“He wanted to be part of your life,” Ruth continued. “Even after I married William, Garrison never stopped asking about you. Never stopped wanting to know his daughter.”

“His daughter.” I tested the words, and they felt strange on my tongue. “Garrison Thatcher is my father.”

“Your biological father, yes. And Eleanor…he loves you. He’s always loved you.”

I closed my eyes, thinking about the man I’d seen with my mother. The way he’d looked at me with such warmth and familiarity. No wonder I hadn’t been angry when I saw them together. Some part of me had recognized him.

“Does he know? About the attempts on my life?”

Ruth’s face went pale again. “Oh God. No, he doesn’t. If he knew that William was trying to….”

“He’d probably try to kill the bastard himself.” I could picture it. The gentle artist transforming into something dangerous to protect his daughter. “Just like Maxim.”

“Is that why you married him? This Maxim?” Ruth studied my face. “Was it really just about revenge?”

I thought about Maxim. About the way he touched me, like I was something precious. About the way he’d killed for me, bled for me, claimed me as his own.

“It started that way.” I met her eyes. “But it became something else. Something real.”

“Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air between us. Did I love Maxim Voronov? The cold, brutal man who’d kidnapped me and forced me into marriage? The same man who’d held me while I cried, who’d made love to me like I was the only thing that mattered in his world?

I already knew. We’d both admitted our feelings to each other.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I love him. And he loves me too.”

Ruth smiled through her tears. “Then maybe some good came out of all this madness.”

“Maybe.” I moved to the window, looking out at the city. “But it’s not over. William’s not going to stop trying to kill me just because we know the truth now.”

“What are you going to do?”

I thought about Maxim, probably somewhere across the city, dealing with whatever Bratva business demanded his attention. My husband. My protector. My partner in this fucked up life we’d built together.

“I’m going to tell him the truth.” I turned back to Ruth. “All of it. And then we’re going to end this once and for all.”

“Eleanor, be careful. William is dangerous, and he has resources….”

“So do I.” I moved toward the door, then paused. “Mom? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why wait until now?”

Ruth looked down at her hands. “Because I was a coward. Because I was afraid of what it would do to you, finding out that your entire life was built on a lie.” She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “And because I was afraid you’d hate me for giving you up for money.”

I studied her face, this woman who’d raised me while loving another man. Who’d sacrificed her own happiness to protect her family, then finally found the courage to reclaim her life.

“I don’t hate you,” I said finally. “I’m angry, and I’m hurt, and I feel like my entire world just got turned upside down. But I don’t hate you.”