Page 99 of Ruthless Serenade

There, standing in the doorway like death’s own messenger, is a ghost made flesh.

My wayward half-brother, Maurice Korolev.

The one who disappeared seven years ago.

He steps forward, his eyes burning into mine like hot coals. "Maron," he nods, voice tight as a garrote wire. Another curt nod. "Timo." Then his gaze finds Mindy, and something shifts in his expression. "Mindy."

What in the fuck is this? A thousand questions explode in my head, each fighting to be first. I want to beat the shit out of him for vanishing. I want to grab him and demand where he’s been hiding. But most of all, I want to know how the fuck he’s standing here when we buried his memory seven years ago.

I force down the tide of rage and questions rising in my throat. There’s a time for that. This isn’t it.

Maurice’s eyes drift to our mother. Her labored breathing cuts through the tension like a knife, yanking us back to this moment. This ending. He moves to her side, gently pressing his lips to her temple. "Larissa," he murmurs. "Thank you for everything. You’re the best stepmother anyone could ever wish for. I’m sorry I didn’t always appreciate that."

Mother’s eyes flutter closed and a peaceful smile graces her lips. "It’s okay, my dear Maurice. All my three sons are here," she whispers, her voice barely a breath. "And my sweet Cordelia. I can go in peace now."

Her breathing slows, each inhale shallower than the last, like waves retreating from the shore. There’s no struggle, no pain carved into her features. Instead, a profound serenity washes over her face, erasing the years of confusion and torment that have haunted her. Her hand, still entwined with Mindy’s, offers one final squeeze before going slack.

And with a soft sigh, like a whisper carried away by wind, she’s gone.

The air in the room shifts, as if an invisible weight has lifted. All the years of suffering, the endless maze of her broken mind, the daily torment of watching her slip away - it all dissolves with that final breath.

My mother is gone.

She’s no longer with us.

And we just stand here, united in our grief, and strangely, a sense of relief. A family forged in loss.

"Goodbye,Matushka," Timofey’s whisper breaks the silence.

"Goodbye," I quietly repeat after him.

But she can no longer hear us. She’s no longer trapped in the prison of her failing mind and body.

She’s finally, truly free.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Maron

"We’ll be there in less than an hour, sir. Please don’t move the body."

I set the phone down, my eyes fixed on my mother's lifeless form. She looks peaceful now, almost serene, like she’s finally shed the weight of her illness. I smooth the duvet one last time then sink into the armchair beside her bed, the one her carer used to sit in.

She’s gone. A strange relief floods through me, followed immediately by guilt for feeling it. But she’s free now - no more confusion, no more illness, no more watching her fade away day by day.

I shut my eyes, letting years of carefully contained grief crack through my armor. All those emotions I buried under endless fucking logistics - private nurses, experimental treatments, specialist after specialist - finally break loose.

My life’s been a series of losses, each one cutting deeper than the last.

My father gone, when I was just a boy.

Then Cordelia, ripped away without warning.

And now, my mother.

And of course, there’s Maurice… fuck knows if I lost him or not. It’s so typically him to show up out of nowhere, right at our mother’s deathbed, seven long years after he vanished.

I also lost the first six years of my daughter’s life. Sharon.

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