Page 151 of Nine Months to Love
“Thank you.”
She glances at the door, then back at me. “Could I speak with you for a moment? Privately?”
My stomach drops. “Of course.”
We step into the hallway. Stefan’s guards watch us but don’t interfere.
Dr. Heller reaches into her jacket and pulls out a sealed envelope. “Ms. Genevieve asked me to give this to you. She was very specific—it’s for you and you alone.”
I stare at the envelope like it might bite me if I reach for it. It feels like the universe taunting me, shoving this whole mess in my face. In the end, though, I have no choice: I take it.
“Thank you.”
Dr. Heller nods and scurries away.
I stand there for a moment, the envelope burning in my hands. Then I turn and head toward the nearest restroom.
Inside, I lock the door and lean against the sink. The envelope is thick, expensive. My name is written across the front in elegant cursive.
I tear it open. The note inside is short, written in the same perfect handwriting.
Olivia,
I’m so sorry about what happened with Elena. They were never meant to hurt anyone. They were just meant to break Mikayla out of her prison. Please believe me.
Meet me a week from now at the Eliot Hotel at 1 P.M. for lunch. We can discuss everything there.
— Natalia
I read it twice. Three times.
They were never meant to hurt anyone.But they did. Elena is lying unconscious in a hospital bed because of this. Because of me. No—because ofher.
I crumple the note in my fist, then flatten it out again. My hands are shaking. Should I go? Should I meet Natalia and try to fix this mess I’ve helped create?
Or should I tell Stefan everything right now and let him decide what to do?
The bathroom door rattles. “Occupied,” I call out.
I fold the note carefully and tuck it into my purse. Then I splash cold water on my face and take a deep breath.
When I return to Elena’s room, Stefan is back, sitting in the same chair with a cup of coffee cooling in his hands. He doesn’t look like he’s taken a single sip.
I sit beside him again. The note feels like it’s burning a hole through my purse.
“Taras called,” Stefan explains. “He’s been working on increasing security at the manor. Triple the guards, new surveillance systems. No one who doesn’t belong will get within a mile of the place.”
“Yeah. Good. Good.”
He finally looks at me. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m just worried about Elena.”
It’s not a lie. I am worried. But it’s not the whole truth, either.
Stefan sets down his coffee and pulls me against his side. I rest my head on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent of citrus and smoke.
“We’ll get through this,” he murmurs. “All of it.”
