Page 69 of Forbidden Vows

“Eileen,” he exhales sharply as we pull away from embracing.

My heart thunders as I see the tears pooling in his eyes. “Paddy, what’s wrong?”

“It’s your father. Ciara wanted to call you, she wanted to tell you herself, but she’s already overwhelmed by all the preparations that need to be handled.”

“What about my father?”

I already know. I can hear it in the tremor of his voice. I can see it in his eyes. The grief. The heartbreak. Instinctively, I reach out to Laura, needing someone to hold on to for the awful words that I know I’m about to hear.

“He passed away this morning, Eileen. I’m so sorry,” Paddy says.

Standing still, I take a deep breath as the news hits me. I would’ve been shocked had I not seen Dad’s health declining over the past few months. The grief is still unbearable, though.

“My condolences, Eileen,” Ian says, coming closer and placing his hand on my shoulder. His voice is soft and gentle, his gaze oddly comforting as I look at him. “Truly a terrible loss. How can I help?”

“I… I don’t know.”

It’s the truth. My mind is drawing a complete blank. I want to cry. I want to scream, shout, and curse at the universe. But my babies are counting on me to take care of both my mental and physical health. They cannot be collateral victims of the burning grief that is itching to consume me.

“We should let Anton know,” Laura suggests. “And we should take you to see Ciara.” She looks at Paddy. “I assume she’s at home?”

Paddy nods. “Aye. Ciara wants to hold the wake tomorrow and the funeral on Saturday.”

“Yes, I need to see Ciara,” I manage to say.

It’s all I can manage.

Chapter 25

Eileen

I’m numb.

I’ve been numb since my father’s wake.

I sit quiet and still while the chaplain talks about my father, sprinkling a few bible quotes in here and there before the family tosses their final roses and handfuls of dirt on top of his casket.

I shudder when it’s finally over and my father is laid to rest. I stare at the fresh flowers left on his grave—an abundance of white lilies—his and my mother’s favorites. My eyes are puffy from crying, and I have a headache, but Anton has been my rock, my comfort, my everything, through it all. He stands beside me, his hand resting on the small of my back.

“They had lilies at their wedding,” I tell him in a low voice.

“Your parents?”

I nod slowly. “I saw the photos in the family album when I was a kid. A sea of white lilies. My mother seemed lost among them in her white bridal dress.”

“Maria was a beautiful woman. I doubt the lilies outshone her that day.”

“You remember her?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Bits and pieces, really. But yeah, I remember her. Maria’s passing sent a shockwave through the Bratva families. I know Ivan loved her deeply. How’s your stepsister doing?” he asks after planting a kiss on my temple.

I look around and spot Ciara bidding a few people goodbye—members of the Fedorov family who came to pay their respects. My stomach churns as our gazes lock, and I can see the fear and anger in her eyes. “I’m not sure. Ever since Dad died, it’s like Sergei took over the Donovan family. We barely said two words to each other at the wake. Every call I’ve made to the house has been rejected. I was told to leave a message.”

“He’s hovering, even now,” Anton mutters.

We watch as he shakes hands and smiles at the dwindling guests. The leaders of the Russian dynasties, to be specific. He looks confident and downright perky, but whenever Ciara looks up at him, he puts on his grieving face. I can see right through the curtain, and it sickens me.

“I’m worried about her, Anton.”

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