Page 66 of Vendetta Crown

"Do you remember what you told me in that alleyway when we first met?" I ask. "About how the hero has to empower her to face it head-on?"

I take both her hands in mine, feeling the delicate strength in her fingers.

"Let me do that for you, Aurora."

Her eyes search mine, vulnerable yet resolute.

"Playing your mother in this documentary is your chance to reclaim your story from Kristofer." I squeeze her hands gently. "No matter what happens when you step onto that set, I'll be right there beside you. Every moment. You won't face this alone."

She looks away, blinking fiercely. When she turns back, I expect there to be tears, but I see something different.

A spark of determination pushing through the fear.

"Okay," she whispers, nodding slowly. "I can do this."

"Should we take a break?" I offer, concerned about pushing her too far, too fast. "We've been at this for hours."

Aurora shakes her head firmly. "We can rest later. We need to get the set built as soon as possible. Tamara, Semyon, and Kristofer won't be resting, so neither should we."

She turns back to the computer screen, and squares her shoulders.

"The kitchen had these outdated appliances from the nineties. Mom always hated them, but Dad said they worked fine so why replace them."

I watch her with love swelling in my chest, marveling at her quiet strength. Most people see only her vulnerability, her fear. They don't see the steel beneath her softness.

"The counter space should always be cluttered," she continues, her voice steadying. "Mom kept a ceramic rooster cookie jar on the left side, right by the stove."

I jot down every detail Aurora shares, making note of the ceramic rooster cookie jar in particular. The image seems to calm her, bringing back a gentler memory before the horror.

"This is all great,zarechka," I tell her, tapping my pen against the notepad. "Do you think we can actually find some of these items? Any specific brands or details the props department might be able to source?"

Aurora closes her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment, she's somewhere else entirely—back in that Kansas City home before everything fell apart.

"I can picture it all so clearly," she says, eyes still closed. "The rooster cookie jar was from a shop in downtown Kansas City. I could sketch it. The wallpaper pattern in the dining room had these specific roses with tiny blue forget-me-nots between them." Her eyes flutter open, and I see a flash of confidence I haven't seen before. "Give me a few days. I can find these things."

A small smile tugs at her lips, the first one I've seen since we started this painful excavation of her past.

"Remember, I actually know what I'm doing when it comes to props," she says, playfully nudging my shoulder. "It was literally my job before all this."

I smile back at her, grateful for this moment of lightness.

"I haven't forgotten."

My relief is short-lived. Aurora's expression shifts as she realizes what we need to discuss next.

The set on the night of the murders.

I reach for her hand. "We can stop if you need to."

"No." She shakes her head firmly. "I need to do this."

Aurora's eyes close briefly, and I watch her gather herself, shoulders squared, and jaw set in determination. When she opens her eyes again, they're clear but haunted.

"When I came home that night," she says, her voice suddenly hollow, "the front door was slightly ajar. I remember thinking it was strange because Dad was always telling us to close the door."

She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around mine.

Then, her finger draws an invisible line across the living room on the floor plan of the house, hand trembling.

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