Page 60 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

“I…” I falter, my mind scrambling to defend a version of me I don’t remember. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.”

Lourdes leans forward, her voice softening again. “Do you remember the exercise they taught you on how to coax a memory?” she says. “You think: what would I do now?”

I nod faintly, my fingers curling into the blanket.

“I need you to be strong, Sandrine.” My sister says my name with a smile, like it pained her to keep this part of me in the shadows. “You’re still the same person. You still have the same heart. If you loved that man⁠—”

“Kirill,” I finish, the word slipping out before I could stop it. “When I woke up in the hospital, I remember Dad calling people, pacing, acting…frantic. He never mentioned Kirill. Why didn’t he tell me I was married? Or that I had a baby. Or let me see my baby?”

I calculate that Violet must have been an infant.

Lourdes’s mouth tightens. “Dad kept that part from me, too. He must not have wanted you with Kirill. Maybe that’s why you kept it a secret. And that’s why he changed your name. And never told you. To keep you apart.”

I hadn’t thought much about the life I had before. But that life found me.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” my sister lowers her voice. “If you want to leave here, Ares will make that happen. We underestimated Kirill. He found you when we took every possible measure to keep you hidden.”

Freedom. Escape.

But instead of relief, an icy dread settles in my chest. The image of the little girl flashes in my mind again. The way her nose wrinkled, I saw myself.

“That’s what Dad did!” I push myself out of bed and stand on my own two feet. “He hid me. I won’t leave my child again.”

“Where are her meds?” Lourdes shouts over her shoulder, getting to her feet as well so we’re eye-to-eye.

“No. Meds are not the solution to everything!” But the realization settles over me like a slow, inevitable tide. “Yes, I guess I did all those things you mentioned. I kept those secrets. I have to take responsibility for them. Here. Not hidden away.”

Lourdes watches me carefully. “Kirill said her name was Violet. It was your favorite color to paint. I can see you naming her that.”

I fumble for a response, but there’s a knock at the door. “Come in.”

As it opens, Ares strides inside. “How do you feel, Sandrine?” he asks.

“Weird,” I answer and sit back on the bed.

Lourdes whispers to her husband, but I hear it. “I offered to take her out of here. She wants to stay. She wants to get to know her daughter.”

Ares’s gaze shifts to me, assessing. “We can demand a DNA test.”

“No,” I say sharply. “Why would Kirill lie? Of all the people on the planet? Why pluck me out of a rehab in Arizona and tell me I’m his wife and the mother of his child?”

Ares thinks about that. “That is an elaborate scheme if it had no merit.”

Lourdes strokes my cheek. “Ares said, she has our eyes.”

Ares stands up straighter. “Kirill just spoke to a doctor at a place called Norridge.”

Lourdes nods. “That’s where she was before Lakeshore.”

“He will take you there tomorrow,” Ares continues.

“To stay?” Panic flickers through my chest. “I can’t⁠—”

“No,” Ares interrupts gently. “As an outpatient. On a trial basis. He agreed to let the doctors determine what is best for you.”

“I know what’s best.” I straighten my spine. “All that treatment in New York and then at Marlowe has made a difference. I’m strong. I can manage the headaches, the dizziness. My words don’t feel sluggish on my tongue as much anymore.”

Lourdes smiles. “You do sound like the old you.”