Page 197 of Cashmere Cruelty

But whatever he finds on our faces, it’s clearly not enough to insist.

So he takes a step back and bows. “Yes,moy pakhan.”

Then he goes to gather thevoryfor the announcement.

62

APRIL

The night after he breaks up with me, Matvey doesn’t show up for family dinner.

I suppose I should be glad. Honestly, I don’t think I could’ve stomached it. “Family” dinner. What a joke.

It was just another lie, wasn’t it? All that sad violin music about how important it was for him, and it was probably nothing but a tool all along. A compromise. A couple of hours for me, and then free run to fool around with Petra for the rest of the day.

God, Petra…

I can’t believe I fell for her act. The scorned business partner, the reluctant friend, the dashing defender. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she staged that break-in herself, just to gain my trust once and for all.

“Sisterhood,” my ass.

All day I’ve been rolling in bed with only these thoughts to keep me company. It’s like I can’t stop my mind whirring. How manylaughs did they have at my expense? How many secret glances did they share behind my back when I was in the room?

How many lies did they make me swallow?

“I love you.”

And those three words—they were the cruelest deception of all. Why even lie about something like that? Why lie about that tome?

I’d already resigned myself. I didn’t expect anything. All I wanted was a happy life for my child, a loving home for them to grow up in. A serene atmosphere for the three of us, one that wasn’t dominated by silence and wars of pinching, sneering cruelty waged in the shadows.

I never asked forlove.

So why pretend to give it to me?

“I love you.”

The worst part is, I can still hear his words in my head. Because maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe, out of all the lies, it was the one thing that was real.

Not that I’ll ever know.

And then there was that phone call.

“April? This is Dr. Allan…”

I’m distracted from my thoughts by a now-unfamiliar sound: the doorbell ringing.

I drag myself out of bed exactly as I am. Because fuck it, you know? My hair’s a mess, my clothes all over the place. I didn’thave the strength to wear anything that required effort, just a pair of shorts and a stained, oversized t-shirt.

Too late, I remember who it belongs to.

“April.”

There he is: Matvey Groza, the root cause of my misery.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I don’t even have the energy to sound righteously furious, like I ought to. Just broken. Just a shell of a person.

Matvey’s face is the same impassive mask it was yesterday. No matter how hard I try, I can’t see what’s underneath it.

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