chapter 16

I walk into the living room and spot Maxim immediately. His face lights up, arms open wide in that fatherly way of his—one of the few people left who hasn’t put distance between us.

“Anastasia. It’s been a while.”

There it is—Anastasia. Maxim’s the only one who still calls me by my full name and hearing it from him is like a warm hug I’ve been needing. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until now, how much I’ve missedhomein all the ways that matter.

“Maxim,” I say, managing a small smile. “I came to see Papa. Is he around?”

At my words, his expression changes, his warm demeanor faltering. He shifts on his feet, looking uncomfortable. Something’s up, and I’m already tired of the secrets.

“Ah, Anastasia,” he says, his voice softer. “Your father is unavailable right now. Perhaps it’s best to come back another time.”

I narrow my eyes, already suspicious. “Maxim, what’s going on? Out with it. What are you hiding?”

Maxim glances around, his gaze flickering nervously. Without another word, he gently takes my elbow and leads me into a quieter corner of the room, out of earshot from anyone else.

My heart starts racing. Did something happen to my father? Is he sick? Worse?

Once we’re alone, Maxim lets go of my arm, and I turn to face him, squaring my shoulders. “What happened?” My voice is sharper than I intended, but I can’t help it. I need answers.

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his thinning gray hair. “Your father doesn’t want to see you. Not yet, at least.”

My stomach drops, the floor seemingly disappearing beneath me. “What?” The word comes out harsher than I mean. “Is this Dmitri’s doing? Because if he?—”

Maxim shakes his head quickly. “No, no. It’s not Dmitri. Your father doesn’t want to see you because he can’t bear to face you after what happened.”

I stare at him, the confusion twisting into frustration. “What do you mean ‘after what happened’? What did he do?”

Maxim looks at me with a deep sadness, like he’s been carrying this weight for too long. “Ever since your marriage to Orlov, your father’s been beside himself. He blames himself, Anastasia. For letting you carry his burden, for putting you in a position where you had no choice but to marry him. He’s been trying to find a way to make things right, but… he can’t face you until he feels like he’s done that.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My father—my Papa—has been avoiding me, not because of Dmitri, but because of his guilt?

“He thinks I’m angry with him,” I mutter, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. “But I married Dmitri because it was the only option. We both knew what had to be done.”

And now, after everything, he’s just going to disappear and leave me to deal with the consequences alone?

“I thought we were past all that,” I say, my voice rising, heat building in my chest. “I agreed to marry Dmitri so Papa wouldn’t have to pay the price for his mistakes. Now he’s going to push me away? Abandon me? After everything?”

My emotions are spiraling now, years of pent-up frustration crashing against the surface. I tried not to feel this way—I really did—but now it feels like I’m drowning. I was forced into this life, into this marriage, and now my father is too ashamed to face me?

“After everything I’ve sacrificed for him, the least he could do isstand by me!” I snap at Maxim, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “He’s the one who left me to deal with the fallout of all this. And now I’m supposed to just accept that he’s refusing to see me?”

Maxim sighs heavily, his hand resting on my shoulder again. “Anastasia, I understand how you feel. But give him time. Your father is a proud man. He can’t face you until he feels he’s made things right.”

I laugh bitterly, shaking his hand off. “Time? I’ve already given himtime. I’ve done everything I can to protect him, to save him from this mess. But if he can’t face me now, after all of this, then maybe I’m better off without him.”

I take a step back, anger and sadness swirling together in my chest, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away quickly.

“I won’t reach out again,” I say firmly, my voice cold. “If he wants to talk to me, he knows where to find me. But I won’t be waiting.”

Before Maxim can say anything else, I turn and walk away, my footsteps echoing through the quiet house. Each step feels heavier than the last, but I refuse to stop. I refuse to let the tears fall.

I’ve never felt this alone before. But I’m strong, stronger than this fucked up situation.

I am still Anastasia Petrov. No matter what, I refuse to lose myself.

And they’ll see that. One way or another.