Page 15 of All The Pretty Little Lies

My heart rate quickens, cutting through the fog of grogginess. I know instantly who it is: Oscar. I hesitate for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keypad. Throwing caution to the wind, I type back:

We need to talk. In person. It's safer.

The response comes almost at once:

Open the door. I'm on the balcony.

My pulse races as I struggle to my feet. I stumble to the French doors leading to the balcony, my hand trembling as I reach for the latch. Taking a deep breath, I pull back the curtain and peer into the darkness beyond.

As I pull open the door, the cool night air rushes in, bringing with it the scent of jasmine from the garden below. My vision swims, and I blink hard, trying to focus on the two shadowy figures standing before me. Oscar's tall frame is easily recognizable, but as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize with a jolt that he's not alone. Zaire stands beside him, his broad shoulders tense, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What the hell?" I hiss, my words slurring slightly. The room sways around me, and I grip the doorframe to steady myself. "Zaire, what are you doing here?"

Zaire takes a step forward, concern etched across his face. "You don't look well."

"I'm fine," I snap, even as I struggle to keep my balance.

A wave of nausea washes over me, and I sway dangerously. Zaire reaches out to steady me, but I flinch away from his touch. "Don't," I warn, my voice low and dangerous despite its unsteadiness.

"Vesper, please," Zaire pleads, his eyes wide with concern. "We can explain everything, but first, let us help you."

The world tilts again, and this time I can't stop myself from stumbling. Zaire catches me before I hit the ground, his strong arms wrapping around me. I want to push him away, to maintain my anger and suspicion, but my body betrays me, sagging against his chest.

“I think they’ve drugged her,” Zaire comments as he holds me up.

"Drugged?" I mumble, my thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.

“Did you eat or drink anything?”

"The tea…,” I point the empty cup on my nightstand. “My mother sent it.”

Oscar curses under his breath in Russian, but I have no idea what he said. He and Oscar go back and forth, talking as if I am not in the room. I try to focus on their words, but they seem to be coming from far away. Zaire's voice rumbles through his chest as he speaks, and despite my anger, I find the sound oddly comforting.

"What are you saying?" I ask, my words still slurring slightly as I struggle to focus on Oscar's face. The world around me seems to pulse and sway, the edges of my vision blurring like watercolors left out in the rain.

Oscar runs a hand through his hair, his usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of urgency. "It's my uncle,"he says, his voice low and tense. "He's changing the plan. There won't be a wedding here in the States, Vesper."

A chill runs down my spine, cutting through the fog of whatever drug is coursing through my system. "What are you talking about?" I demand, trying to push away from Zaire's steadying grip. My legs wobble beneath me like a newborn colt's, and I reluctantly allow him to keep his arm around my waist.

Oscar's eyes meet mine, and the anger in them makes my heart stutter. "He's planning to force your father to send you to Russia tomorrow," he says. "He's threatening to cut the alliance.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, and I sway dangerously. Zaire's arm tightens around me, and I can feel the tension radiating from his body. The night air suddenly feels too thin, and I struggle to draw a full breath.

"But...but the wedding," I stammer, my mind reeling.

Oscar shakes his head, his expression grim. "It was all a smokescreen, Vesper. A way to keep you complacent while they finalized the real plan. Our Uncle has far bigger plans than what a political marriage can give him."

I close my eyes, trying to process this information through the haze of drugs and disbelief. The scent of jasmine from the garden below wafts up, a mockery of sweetness in this moment of bitter revelation. When I open my eyes again, the world seems sharper, my senses heightened by the surge of adrenaline coursing through me.

“This doesn’t make sense. Why would they do this?”

“They’re blaming it on your brother, but it’s much more than that.”

"My brother?" I say, my voice stronger now.

Zaire and Oscar exchange a look that sends a fresh wave of fear through me. It's Zaire who answers, his voice gentle but laced with tension. "We think he tried to intervene.”

The pieces start to fall into place - Luca's cryptic messages, his warning not to contact him again. My brother, always the protector, tried to save me and paid the price. Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. There's no time for weakness now.

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