chapter 19

ANA

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d pop in to see my favorite sister-in-law.”

I look up from my desk, and my face instantly brightens at the sound of Yelena’s voice. She’s like a breath of fresh air, completely opposite to her stone-cold brother, Dmitri.

My husband.

“No, no,” I wave her in, shaking my head. “You’re always welcome. What brings you to the city?”

Yelena strolls in, dropping onto the chair opposite me with a dramatic sigh, a bag clutched in her hand. I can see the neck of a bottle peeking out, and judging by the size of the bag, there’s more than just champagne in there. This is Yelena, after all.

It’s been a week since she moved in with us, and the house has never been livelier. Every time she goes out, she returns with some kind of gift. Dresses, shoes, even random trinkets she thought I’d like. It’s sweet, in a way. A little overwhelming, sure, but sweet.

She flashes a mischievous grin. “Okay, so I lied about being in the neighborhood. I was bored at home. Didn’t feel likeshopping, didn’t want to deal with my friends. So, I figured, why not hang out with you?”

“Oh.” I nod, smiling. “That’s fine. I’m working on a closing statement—it’ll take me a couple of hours. But if you want to stick around, I’d love the company.”

She pulls out the champagne bottle and two glasses from her bag like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Say no more.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “As much as I’d love to join you, I can’t. Work rules.”

Yelena waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry. One glass is for me, and the other is for me after I finish the first one.”

Her grin is infectious, and despite myself, I chuckle. She’s a force of nature, but one I can handle. I mean, give me Yelena over her brother any day. At least she doesn’t make me want to tear my hair out every time she walks into the room.

“You don’t have to entertain me,” Yelena says, settling in comfortably. “I’m just here to keep you company. I’ll quietly send you good vibes.”

Nodding, I turn back to my screen, trying to focus on the case in front of me. The closing statement I’m drafting should be airtight, but I can’t shake the feeling that the plaintiff’s attorney might have a trick up her sleeve. I just need to go over it one more time to be sure.

But then, Yelena’s face pops up in my peripheral vision. “I still don’t know why you married my grumpy brother.”

I freeze for a second, my hands pausing over the keyboard. Here it comes.

“You’re fun, smart, beautiful,” she continues, leaning in like we’re sharing a secret. “No offense, but I always thought if Dmitri was going to get married, it would be to someone...well, like him.”

I rest my chin on my hand, smiling faintly. The truth teases the edge of my tongue, but I hold it back. As much as I likeYelena, as much as we’ve bonded, she’s still Dmitri’s sister. There’s a line I can’t cross. And anyway, it’s not my story to tell. Not fully.

Still, a part of me wonders how she’d react if I told her that her dear brother forced me into this marriage. That I’m paying the price for a crime my father supposedly committed.

Yelena’s voice softens. “Or . . . is it true?”

I tilt my head slightly, studying her. “True?”

Her eyes dart around nervously, and for the first time since I’ve known her, she seems unsure of herself. She bites her lower lip, hesitating.

“I heard something through the grapevine. But it’s not my place to ask.” She scratches at her chin, clearly uncomfortable.

I keep my face neutral, but my mind is racing. Does she know? How much does she know? I don’t want to confirm or deny anything by accident, so I tread carefully.

“What is it?” I ask, keeping my tone light.

She shifts in her seat, her discomfort obvious now. “It’s probably nothing. You know how rumors can be. I must’ve had too much to drink one night and started believing the nonsense people talk about.”

I nod slowly, giving her a way out. “Right.”

Yelena waves her hand like she’s brushing off her own words. “Forget I said anything! Honestly, it’s just silly talk. You get back to work, and I’ll just sit here and enjoy my champagne.”

She picks up her glass, but the way her eyes avoid mine tells me she’s holding something back. There’s more she wants to say, but for now, she’s keeping quiet.

I glance at her as I try to refocus on the statement. There’s something about her expression that sticks with me—like she knows more than she’s letting on but doesn’t want to admit it. Maybe she’s heard whispers about my arrangement with Dmitri. Maybe she’s putting the pieces together.

She knows. Or at least, she suspects.

But she’s not ready to say it. And honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Grateful? Apprehensive?

I sigh softly, telling myself I’ll figure it out in time. For now, Yelena’s the closest thing to a friend I have in this house. I’m not going to risk that over a conversation neither of us is ready to have.

“Let’s go for a drink.”Yelena grabs my hand as we head out of the office.

“Are you sure you can have more?” I ask, giving her a sideways glance.

She nods enthusiastically. “Yup. I only had three glasses, and that was hours ago. You know,” she leans her head against my shoulder, her voice dropping, “when you go through something that messes with your head just enough, you build up a tolerance pretty quickly.”

Her tone takes on a strange wistfulness that makes me pause. I turn my head slightly to study her expression, but her gaze is far off, fixed on some distant point. There’s sadness in her eyes that I hadn’t noticed before, a heaviness she hides well under her usual brightness.