Page 85 of The Russian's Revenge Bride

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet.” I opened the door, then looked back at her one more time. “Because now comes the hard part. Now we have to figure out how to survive William’s reaction when he realizes his carefully constructed world is about to come crashing down around him.”

I left her there in her sunroom, surrounded by broken ceramic and the truth that had finally been set free. As I rode back to Maxim’s mansion, my mind raced with everything I’d learned.

Garrison Thatcher was my father. The gentle man with kind eyes who’d probably spent twenty-one years wondering about the daughter he’d been forced to give up. William Beaumont was nothing more than a bitter man who’d bought a wife and gotten stuck with a child he never wanted.

And somewhere in the middle of all this fucked up family drama, I’d found something real. Something worth fighting for.

Maxim was going to have questions when I told him. Hell, he was probably going to be furious that I’d gone to see my mother without telling him first. But he’d understand. He had to understand.

Because now that I knew the truth, everything changed. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This wasn’t just about William trying to send a message to my mother.

This was about a man so consumed with his own image, his own sense of control, that he was willing to murder an innocent woman just to prove a point.

Chapter 24 – Maxim

I sat in my office, staring at the empty bottle of vodka on my desk. The silence felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, heavier than the blood under my fingernails, heavier than the memory of Dmitry’s brains painting that hotel wall.

I’d fucked up. Royally, completely fucked up.

Rafael was going to want answers about Dmitry’s disappearance soon. Questions I couldn’t answer without admitting I’d executed one of his most trusted men in a goddamn hotel suite. No proof. No evidence. Just my word against a dead man’s reputation.

The smart move was to run. Take Eleanor and Anya, disappear into the night, and never look back. But running meant leaving Rafael exposed, meant abandoning the only family I’d known since my parents died. And it meant looking like exactly what Dmitry had accused me of being—weak.

No. There was only one honorable way out of this mess.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Rafael’s number.

“Maxim?” His voice was cautious. “It’s late.”

“I need to see you. Tonight.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” I closed my eyes, thinking about Eleanor sleeping upstairs, about Anya who’d already lost too much because of my choices. “Rafael, I need you to promise me something.”

“What kind of promise?”

“The brotherly kind. The kind that matters.”

A long pause. “Be here in forty minutes.”

After I hung up, I walked to the window overlooking the garden where Eleanor liked to sketch in the mornings. She’d made this place feel like home in a way I’d never thought possible. And now I was about to lose it all.

The door opened behind me. Lev walked in without knocking, as usual.

“You look like shit,” he said, settling into the chair across from my desk.

“Feel like it too.” I turned to face him. “Lev, I need you to promise me something.”

“Christ, not you too. What is it with everyone wanting promises tonight?”

“When I’m gone, look after Anya and Eleanor.”

His face went serious. “Gone where?”

“Gonegone. Dead gone.” I moved back to my desk, fingers tracing the edge of a photo Eleanor had insisted I keep there. “You know I killed Dmitry last night. Rafael’s going to want justice.”