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“Ms. Tryst?” a voice calls out from behind me. Startled, I turn to find a young driver dressed in a crisp black suit, his expression betraying a hint of nervousness. “I’ve been instructed by Mr. Cassius and Mr. Nikhil Volkov to take you back to the mansion.”
What is this? They’ve never had a problem with me walking before.
“Oh no, that’s okay.” I wave my hand dismissively and start walking.
But the man quickly stops in front of me. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
I want to push him out of my way. If I make a big enough fuss, he’ll be forced to let me go, but then what will Nikhil and Cassius do?
I’ll get there a lot faster if I let him drive me.
“Of course,” I say, trying to suppress the sudden lump in my throat. “But there’s somewhere else I need to go first.”
“I wasn’t told about any additional stops, ma’am,” he replies, his brow furrowed.
“Listen,” I begin, desperation seeping into my voice, “Cassius and Nikhil know about this. It’s urgent, and they authorized it. You can call them if you want to confirm, but we’re already running late, and they won’t be happy if we keep them waiting.”
My words aren’t the truth, but from the look on the driver’s face I think they’re working. He hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his eyes dart between me and his car. I can sense his confusion, his desire to follow orders clashing with his fear of angering the Volkov brothers. Exploiting the driver’s inexperience is risky, but there’s no way I’m not visiting my sister’s grave today.
“Alright,” he finally concedes.
“Thank you,” I breathe, relief washing over me like a tidal wave. As I climb into the back seat, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for manipulating the young man. However, in a world as dark and twisted as the one I’ve been thrust into, sometimes deception is the only way to survive.
“Where are we going, then?” the driver asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
“First, I need to stop at a flower shop,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “And then, to the cemetery at 4825 Oakwood Drive.”
“Understood,” he replies, his voice hushed as if sensing the gravity of my request. As the car pulls away from the curb, I catch glimpses of my own reflection in the darkened windows—a woman lost in thought, her green eyes haunted by memories she can’t escape.
It doesn’t take long for us to pull up in front of a quaint little flower shop nestled between two towering buildings. I leave the car and hurry inside, but the driver follows right behind me.
Have they told him not to take his eyes off of me?
The scent of fresh flowers envelops me as I enter the shop. I quickly select a bouquet of delicate white lilies, feeling an odd sense of peace wash over me as I cradle them in my arms.
“Beautiful choice,” the cashier remarks, wrapping the flowers carefully. “They were my sister’s favorites.”
Mine too.
As I make my way back to the car, I can’t help but wonder what Mikayla would think of the life I’ve been forced to live—a pawn in a deadly game between powerful men. She never would have let herself get into such a mess.
“Thank you,” I say again as the driver opens the door and helps me inside, carefully placing the bouquet on my lap. “To the cemetery, please.”
“Of course,” he replies, his tone respectful as he starts the car and guides it toward our final destination.
“Here we are,” the driver announces as we pull up to the entrance of the cemetery. I nod, unable to speak, and exit the car slowly, my steps heavy with the weight of grief.
He starts to get out too. “Can I have just a moment alone? This matter is a bit sensitive.”
He eyes me warily. “Just a moment. Stay where I can see you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before making my way through the wrought-iron gates.
The cemetery is eerily quiet as I navigate the familiar path to Mikayla’s grave, each step bringing back the pain of losing her. When I finally reach her resting place, my heart constricts painfully.
“Hey, Mikayla,” I begin, my voice choked with emotion. “It’s been a while, huh?”
I kneel down and gently place the lilies at the base of her headstone, my fingers trembling as I brush away the fallen leaves that have gathered there.
