“So,” she says, brushing crumbs off her fingers, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Uh-oh.” I raise an eyebrow. “Is this a good ‘something’ or a bad ‘something’?”
Her expression turns serious. “Depends on how you look at it. The wedding date’s been set.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“Two months from today. Your dad and Lev finalized it while I was in the hospital.”
There’s an unmistakable hint of resignation to her voice, one that makes it clear she’d been hoping things might go differently.
And part of me feels the same way.
I nod slowly, forcing myself to keep a neutral expression on my face even as my thoughts spiral. Two months. That’s all the time left before Alexei marries my cousin.
He’s not changing his plans. My chest tightens, and I can feel my stomach churn.
“Isa?” Stephania’s voice cuts through my haze. “You OK? You look… I don’t know, weird.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, grabbing another pastry and taking a bite to give myself something to do. “I’m just glad you’re home.”
Stephania leans back in her chair and yawns. “I can’t believe I’m so tired after all the lying around I’ve done all week. I need a nap.”
“Are you kidding?” I say, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “You’ve been through hell. You deserve all the naps.”
She chuckles softly and stands up with care, like she’s t trying not to push herself too hard. I get up, too, pulling her into another hug.
“I’m so happy you’re back, Steph. Don’t you dare scare me like that again.”
With a final squeeze of my hand, she heads upstairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I plop back down on my stool and finish off my pastry as I stare at nothing in particular.
The quiet feels heavier now.
I need to do something. To get outside and think.
I wash my hands and head out to the garden, taking a deep breath of fresh air and trying to figure out my next move.
I stand there, hands on my hips, staring at the grounds surrounding me. The walls feel like they’re closing in, and I need out. Just for a bit.
Luckily, if there’s one thing I’m skilled at, it’s finding new ways to sneak out of the mansion. I glance above me, spotting my way out on the second floor and heading back inside.
A few minutes later, I’m pushing open the window in one of the rarely used guest bedrooms, the crisp city air rushing in. The ground below doesn’t look too far away. Easy enough, I tell myself.
This little path under this particular guest room window is in a blind spot for the security cameras. If I drop down and go dead straight, no one will see me leave.I’ve done it so many times before, I could even do it blindfolded.
Time to do it.
I swing one leg over, then the other, gripping the window frame for balance.There’s a generous ledge for me to work with, though.
“Here we go, Spider-Girl,” I say to myself. Then I slip out of the window, my feet gleefully scurrying along the ledge. From there, it’s a quick climb down the sturdy trellis.
When I land in the garden—on the other side this time—a burst of adrenaline rushes through me, and I grin. This is what I’ve been craving. A little rebellion. A little freedom.
I hurry through the garden, slipping past the fence and out into the street. The sun feels brighter, the air fresher. I can already feel some of the tension in my chest easing.
But then I hear it.
“Isabella!”