Page 118 of Beautiful Agony

"Ah." That oily smile returns. "Is that what you think happened? That I simply... sold her?" He shakes his head with a condescending chuckle. "There is so much you don't know about your father, Vadim Petrovich."

"Enlighten me then."

"When Pyotr and I forced Savin into our service, he was already plotting against me in secret." Kirsan's pale eyes grow distant."It was only a matter of time before my Sayavochka became a pawn on his board."

There's something in his voice that gives me pause—a hint of genuine pain beneath the cultured accent.

"That was always Pyotr's nature," Kirsan continues. "He would smile and embrace you like a brother while sliding a knife between your ribs. What was I supposed to do? Sit meekly until the moment of betrayal comes?"

"You could have done the right thing," I tell him, though the words feel hollow even as I say them.

He turns those predatory eyes to me again, but this time there's something else there—a deep, festering wound that's never quite healed.

"The right thing?" He repeats my words with a bitter laugh. "Tell me, Vadim Petrovich, what would you have done in my position? What would you do now, if someone threatened your unborn child?"

Applause erupts around us as the announcer introduces Eleftheria. The first models emerge onto the catwalk, but Kirsan's eyes remain fixed on me.

"Look at me, Vadim Petrovich."

I turn to face him, even though every instinct screams to watch for Lacey. His pale eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"I agreed to give my Sayavochka to Pyotr's heir because I thought that's what it would take for her to be safe." His voice cracks with genuine emotion. "And you... I tried to treat you like the son I never had. I truly believed that you would be different fromhim."

He lets out a bitter laugh that sounds more like a sob as his face twists with grief and rage.

"How did my Sayavochka die? What were her final words to you?"

I clench my jaws, remembering the way Sayanaa begged me to spare her life at the end, the desperate pleas of her love for me in her voice as she begged uselessly after she'd tried to make Lacey become as twisted as she was.

"Well?" Kirsan whispers.

"She tried to tell me that she loved me."

"And how did you repay her love?"

"Your daughter was never capable of love," I tell him, keeping my voice low and controlled despite the burning rage in my chest. "Not after you turned her into a shield to keep yourself safe."

Kirsan leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Look up at the catwalk, Vadim Petrovich."

My eyes snap to the runway where Lacey has just emerged. She looks breathtaking in the dress hugging her curves, but something in her expression changes as our eyes meet.

A flash of shock crosses her face, and my heart stutters at the fear I see there.

Kirsan embraces me, and leans in until his lips are pressed at my ear.

"Remember this moment," Kirsan whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Think about how much you love your unborn child. That love you feel right now? It only grows stronger with eachpassing year. Every smile, every tear, every triumph and failure. Those will only make that love deeper, more desperate, moreconsuming."

His words send ice through my veins as understanding dawns. Before I can react, white-hot pain pierces my belly.

"You took my child from me," Kirsan hisses as he drives the blade deeper. "So I will make you watch as I do the same to you."

Another stab. The pain is excruciating but distant somehow, overwhelmed by the horror of watching Lacey's face as she realizes what's happening.

Her mouth drops open in a scream. But I don't hear it over the sudden roar as bombs start going off all around us.

The first explosion rocks the venue before I can react. More follow in rapid succession, each deafening blasts drowning out the screams of panic.

Blood soaks through my shirt where Kirsan stabbed me. Every breath sends fresh agony through my core. But none of that matters as I watch him rise from his seat, pale eyes fixed on the catwalk where Lacey stands frozen.

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