Page 103 of Sweet Deception
So I left.
I had written him a letter. I had laid out the plan. I hoped he understood.
But deep down, I knew Gleb never let go of something that was his.
If he thought I had betrayed him...
No.
I pushed the thought aside.
He would understand. He had to.
I hoped.
I had walked away from him. I had done it for him. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t breaking apart inside.
The closer we got to my childhood home, the harder it became to breathe. I clutched the seatbelt, my nails pressing into my palm.
The Rolls-Royce pulled into the familiar driveway of my childhood home.
Stefano stepped out first, opening the door for me.
As I emerged, the front doors swung open.
My mother stood on the porch. Tears streaked her face. Behind her, my two aunts watched with expressions of carefully measured grief.
“Anna,” my mother whispered, stepping forward. “I thought I would never see you again.”
She pulled me into an embrace.
I didn’t move.
The last time I had been in this house, my entire life had changed. They had first tried to take my leg from me, and when that didn’t work, they sent me to Moscow, knowing exactly what would happen to me there.
And now she was crying?
I let her hug me, but I felt nothing.
“You should go inside,” Stefano murmured.
I nodded, stepping past my mother and into the house.
“Your father is waiting for you,” she said, wiping at her eyes.
I didn’t answer.
Inside, my father was seated alone in the grand living room, a newspaper spread across his lap. A pair of reading glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose.
He didn’t even look up at me.
“Papa.”
Silence.
Then, carefully, he folded the newspaper and set it aside.
“You hurt me, Anna.”
