Page 33 of The Russian's Revenge Bride
“And you stayed with him anyway?”
“I stayed for you. Because leaving would have meant giving up custody, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone with him.”
The casual way she accepted it, the complete lack of shock or horror, told me everything I needed to know aboutmy parents’ marriage. About the world I’d grown up in without realizing it.
“Did you know about Prague?” I asked quietly.
“What about Prague?”
“The ambush. The men who died because of Daddy’s betrayal.”
Ruth’s face went very still. “No. I didn’t know about that.”
But something in her eyes suggested she wasn’t entirely surprised.
I stood up, suddenly needing distance. “I can’t do this.”
“Eleanor, wait. Let me help you. We can figure out a way to get you out of this.”
“I don’t want out.”
The words surprised me as much as they surprised her. But as soon as I said them, I knew they were true.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I like it here. This house, this life, even Maxim…. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt like I belonged somewhere. Like I mattered to someone.”
“You matter to me.”
“I know you love me, Mom. But this is different. Here, I’m not just William Beaumont’s disappointing daughter or the fashion designer who’ll never be quite successful enough. I’m Eleanor Voronov. I’m someone’s wife, someone’s family. And maybe it started as a lie, but it doesn’t feel like one anymore.”
Ruth stared at me like I was a stranger. “He’s changed you.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he just helped me become who I was supposed to be all along.”
I moved toward the door, then paused. “You can stay the night if you want. Mrs. Kowalski will make up a guest room. But I won’t be coming back to Dad’s house. Ever. This is my home now.”
I left her sitting in the living room, probably trying to figure out where she’d lost her daughter. But the truth was, she hadn’t lost me. She’d finally found me.
For the first time in my life, I was exactly where I belonged.
Chapter 10 – Maxim
Cassandra burst into my office without knocking, tablet clutched in her hand like a weapon. Her usually perfect composure was cracked around the edges, which meant whatever she was about to show me was going to ruin my fucking day.
“You need to see this,” she said, slamming the device down on my desk.
The video was already playing. William Beaumont stood behind a podium at what looked like a hastily arranged press conference, his face a masterpiece of paternal anguish. Designer suit, perfectly styled hair, the kind of controlled emotion that played well on camera.
“My daughter Eleanor is a victim,” he was saying, his voice thick with manufactured grief. “She’s been brainwashed, isolated from her family and friends by a dangerous criminal who has somehow convinced her to participate in this sham marriage.”
My jaw clenched as I watched him perform, every gesture calculated for maximum sympathy.
“The ceremony that took place was illegal, conducted without proper documentation or witnesses. Eleanor was coerced, possibly drugged. This man has taken my little girl and turned her against everything she was raised to believe.”
Little girl. The fucking bastard hadn’t called Eleanor in three months before I took her, had publicly disowned her when it served his purposes. Now she was his little girl.
“I’m offering a five-million-dollar reward to anyone who can provide information leading to Eleanor’s safe return,” William continued. “My daughter needs help, and I won’t rest until she’s back where she belongs.”
