Page 92 of Hunter

“Where’s Maxim’s letter?” I push again, hoping she’ll answer this time.

“Ay dios mío, when you latch onto something?—”

“Mom, please. Just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“It’s in the same box I put yours in.”

“Thank you.”

“Adiós, Sophia.”

She hangs up before I can say goodbye. I release an exasperated breath and slump into the chair. That conversation was draining, with so much left unsaid. But I’m not unpacking it now. I’m exhausted, and I feel like I have more questions thananswers. Why didn’t Jenny get a letter? What happened between my parents that made my mom resent Dad so much? What is she hiding? Why did Dad leave Maxim a letter, and what does it say?

Curiosity gnaws at me. I rummage through the box until I find an envelope with Maxim’s name on it. I hold it in my hands, staring at it as if somehow, magically, I’ll be able to read its contents without opening it.

I don’t know how long I sit there, torn between opening it and respecting Maxim’s privacy. It feels like a cartoon moment, with an angel and devil arguing in my head.

It’s a letter from your dad, giving you the right to read it, but it’s not for you. It’s for Maxim. What if it says something you’re not supposed to know? But Maxim will tell you what’s in it eventually, won’t he?

I groan, slamming the letter down on the desk. My mind is made up—I won’t open it. If it were me, I wouldn’t want anyone reading my letter before I had the chance. I won’t cross that line, disrespecting his privacy. If he tells me, great. If not, I’ll have to live with that. Some things are better left unsaid.

I pause, reflecting on my earlier argument with him about being open. It makes me a hypocrite. He doesn’t need to tell me everything. Some things belong in the past. God, I’ve been so hard on him.

Just then, my phone vibrates, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s probably Maxim, wondering why I hung up. I grab my phone and answer.

“I’m sorry I hung up. I’ll explain everything as soon as you’re done,” I say.

“Sophia.” Wait—this isn’t Maxim’s voice. It’s a woman’s. I freeze, and my breath catches in my throat. My heart races. It’s Elena.

“What do you want?” The words come out harsher than I intend, but I can’t help it. She has to know I know about herbetrayal—feeding information to the person who kidnapped me, who set me up. How dare she call me?

“Sophia, please. I need your help.” Her voice is frantic, breathless.

“Why mine?” What could I possibly do for her now?

“You helped me once.” Yeah, I helped her once when I thought she was just a lost, broken woman who had her whole world flipped upside down by an unplanned pregnancy.

“I’m sorry, Elena, but there’s nothing I can do for you.” I go to hang up, but what she says next stops me cold. My heart starts pounding as if it wants to escape my chest.

“I wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for your family.”

My stomach tightens, nausea spiraling in my gut. “What do you mean?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it. How is my family involved?

“Meet me, and I’ll tell you.”

It’s most likely a trap, a ploy to use my family against me. And, damn it, it’s working. Curiosity kills the cat, after all.

“Where do I meet you?” I ask, resolve to settle over me. I’ll text Maxim when I’m in the car.

“I’m waiting for you in your clinic.”

“I’ll see you in thirty.”

“Sophia?” she calls my name just before I hang up.

“Yes?”

“Do not tell Maxim or Andrei.” She says it with finality and hangs up.

---