Page 58 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

“How much time?” she presses, sounding sad.

“A few more days,” I answer, kissing her forehead. “I’m making her better. For you. So she can be your mommy.”

Violet considers that, her gaze drifting toward the hallway leading to the stairs, as if she might run back up there anyway. “But why did she ask who I was?”

The question sets off a bomb in my head. I pull her closer, holding her there while I search for an answer.

“She’s confused,” I say. “She will remember you next time.”

Because she has to.

Chapter 17

Sandrine

“Jess?”

A voice pulls me back from somewhere else.

I turn my head and almost cry. “Lourdes?”

Sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, she strokes my cheek. “I’m here, Jess.”

Kirill said she was on her way. But she’s so tense, her knuckles have gone white. She looks different than she did in Arizona a few weeks ago. She looks terrified because of me. I don’t like this. I’m done with all of this.

“What… What happened?” My throat feels dry, like I’m breathing in hot stones.

“What do you remember?” She deploys the therapeutic tactic.

It makes me want to scream, but a little face comes into my head. God, remembering that young child feels like stepping onto thin ice that may crack any second.

“I was in the library.” I don’t mention the child calling me the same name that Kirill had been calling me.

And that her mother has the same name.

“You had an episode,” Lourdes breaks it to me gently without judgment.

The careful way someone speaks around someone fragile. I am so tired of being fragile.

When I say nothing, she continues, “But it’s okay. You’re okay now. I’m here.”

As she has been for the last six months. But it’s time to take care of myself.

I swallow and push myself up slightly against the pillows, taking back my agency. For the first time, I’m careful about what I say. I’ve let Lourdes choose what she thought was best for me for five years. First, she moved me from Lakeshore to the facility in New York. Then she moved me to Marlowe Rehab in Arizona.

Then Kirill brought me back here to Chicago.

I am done being dragged around.

“Jessica, look at me,” Lourdes urges me back.

“Jessica,” I whisper, shaking my head. “That’s not my name, is it?”

Lourdes goes still and bites her lower lip in anger. “I’m sorry. Dad changed your name. He never told me why. We had been working with the doctors to prepare a transition for you. A gentle one, with all of us around you. Me, Ares, Elodie. But that… That man just stole you from us, from your care. He ruined everything.”

“It’s okay.” Now, I’m consoling her. “He said my name is Sandrine.”

She exhales and smiles. “I’ve been waiting to tell you.” Gripping my hand, she kisses my fingers. “I’ve been wanting to tell you who you really are.”