Page 161 of Unhinged

She’s Polina’s mother. The woman that adopted her. I freeze, when a warm hand moves to the nape of my neck and gives a gentle squeeze. “Relax,” Matvei says in my ear. “You’ll like her. I promise.”

Polina goes to open the door, then gestures. “Mama, there’s someone special I want you to meet. Anissa, this is Ekaterina Romanova. My mother.”

Ekaterina smiles and extends a hand.

“Anissa. I owe you an apology.”

There’s a sigh in her chest, as if she’s been carrying this moment for too long. Her eyes grow soft—sorrowful—but there’s steel beneath the sadness.

“I believe I owe you all an explanation.”

The words hang heavy in the air, thick as storm clouds.

The room swells with tension as Zoya, always the gentle soul, attempts to soften the sharp edges. “May I bring some tea and refreshments?” she offers, her voice light but tremulous.

Rafail gives a small nod of permission, and I watch her scurry off like a dove trying to calm a battlefield.

I wish she could.

Zoya lays a tray of tea between us, Ekaterina finally speaks.

Her fingers tremble on the delicate cup as she places it back on its saucer.

Her eyes find mine.

“I’ve explained to the Kopolovs, but you’re owed an explanation as well, love. I fear some of this…” her voice catches, but she pushes through, steadying herself, "…is my fault."

My throat tightens.

She swallows and lifts her chin, choosing bravery over shame. “I wanted a daughter," she confesses. “More than anything. My husband resisted for years. Daughters..." She swallows, her voice brittle with old wounds. "They’re not born to rule in our world. Sons secure power. Daughters secure alliances."

Mmm. Indeed. Tell me about it.

Her hands knot together in her lap.

"And then one day, he brought me Polina."

Her gaze softens as it settles on me, a sad smile pulling at her mouth. "A miracle," she whispers. "She was my miracle."

My chest aches.

She presses on. "I didn’t know—I swear to you, I didn’t know—until years later, that she had a sister. That you were separated. No one told me until it was too late."

She blinks back tears, but one escapes, sliding down her cheek.

"The adoption was closed. Sealed. They wanted no contact." Her voice hardens, not with cruelty, but with the pain of helplessness.

Her breath shudders as she releases it.

"I was afraid," she admits, her voice almost too soft to hear. "Afraid of what I would find. Afraid that if I pried too hard, I would lose you both."

For the first time, I see the full measure of her fear.

"I let fear guide my choices," she says, not looking away from me. "And for that, Anissa, I ask your forgiveness."

Ekaterina’s voice trembles but does not falter. "I was wrong."

Silence stretches. Every eye in the room is on me.

---