Page 105 of Crowned

“We have arrived, Miss Aranova.”

“Hmm?” I look up and realize that we’re on a narrow country road outside a thatched cottage with roses lining the path to the door, and there are fields all around. “This place? Really?”

“Mr. Zhukov told me to tell you that Number Ten was waiting.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the solar plexus.

Number Ten.

Olivia, who was in the cell next to mine during the pageant. Who always had my back and became my friend, and who I had to say goodbye to forever when she escaped with the other women.

Olivia Sparrow, who gave the press conference and spoke with such bravery and power that it brought tears to my eyes. Who told everyone about me and said that she’d never forget me.

I’ve never forgotten her, either.

I stare down at Viktoria in my arms. The baby of one of the men who took Olivia captive.

“Drive around the corner, please,” I gasp suddenly, holding Viktoria to my heart.

I can’t think until we’re out of sight of the cottage. In a nearby lane, Juliet pulls the car over next to a field.

Juliet meets my eyes in the mirror, her brow wrinkled in concern. “You’re not going in?”

“I…don’t know if I should. An old friend lives there. So much has happened since we last saw each other.”

“Did you part on good terms?”

“Yes. But it’s complicated.”

“If she’s a true friend, she’ll welcome you with open arms.”

Olivia would do that, and I desperately need a friend. I gaze down at Viktoria. “Could—could I ask you a favor, please? Would you mind holding the baby for me?”

Juliet breaks into a smile. “Mr. Zhukov said you might ask. I would love to look after the baby. I’m normally a nanny, you see. Not a driver.”

I look up in surprise. Konstantin thought of everything.

With Viktoria cuddled in Juliet’s capable arms, I take a deep breath and walk back down the lane and around the corner to Olivia’s house.

What a beautiful place this is. A fresh breeze is blowing and there are wildflowers by the front gate. Olivia must be healing here. I pray that she’s healing, anyway.

I walk down the path and raise my hand to knock on the front door.

I hear Olivia calling cheerfully to someone as she hurries down the passage. She opens the door, a smile on her face.

It freezes in shock.

We stare at each other, and my heart is racing a mile a minute. She hasn’t changed. She’s still the tall, beautiful woman with dark hair and coppery eyes, radiating strength and charisma.

Olivia’s face crumples, and she bursts into tears. “Lilia. Oh, my God, Lilia.”

She lunges forward and wraps her arms around me, and I start crying, too. Then we’re laughing, touching each other’s faces, and talking over each other.

“Olivia?”

A woman is standing in the hall, gazing at us uncertainly. She looks a lot like Olivia, but a few years older, and with a sadder look in her eyes. Her oversized sweater is over her hands, and she clutches the sleeves like a child.

Olivia wipes her face, beaming from ear to ear. “This is my sister, Beatrix. Beatrix, this is Lilia. The woman I told you about.”

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