THE FIXER

“I did this for you, you ungrateful brat!” My mother snarls. “We could have killed you for real in that car.” She jabs a finger at me. “That’s how I would take your money, if that had been my desire. It would’ve been far more simple. And Viktor would still be alive for me to enjoy it with!”

I stare at her, fighting back the weight of grief that washes over me. Not from this conversation, but from a lifetime of knowing subconsciously that my mother truly didn’t love me, except as an extension of herself. That I was a pawn in her game against Igor for his money. Nothing more.

She spreads her arms wide. “I did this for you. To free you of that man.”

“I didn’t want to be freed of him!” I shout. I look desperately toward Pavel, who stands at the door looking like he wants to leave but is incapable of looking away from this trainwreck between my mother and I.

“Please, you have to tell him. It wasn’t me. I didn’t want this.”

Pavel shakes his head in disgust. “I’m not telling him anything,” he says and walks out the door.

My mother turns and grabs her suitcase. “Let’s go. We have a flight to catch to Moscow.”

I can’t seem to move. I’ve never felt so lost or alone in my entire life. The desire to sink down into it-to gripe, complain, rebel-all the old stale tricks of my childhood surface, but I see how completely useless they are.Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

Maxim was right-power isn’t something someone grants you. It’s something you take for yourself.

“I’m not going.”

My mother freezes and then slowly pivots. “What?”

“I’m not leaving my husband.”

“Did you not hear? Your husband said if we ever show our faces again, they will strip us of the money.” She gestures with both hands. “We can’t live without that money!”

“Look at you,” my mother scoffs. “You’ve never had a job in your life. What would you do? How would you live? And for what purpose? Maxim isn’t going to take you back. I saw his face when he saw you were alive. You betrayed him once. You’re lucky he didn’t choke the life out of you right there for betraying him a second time.”

I wave my fists in the air like a lunatic. “I did not betray him a second time! You did! And I will make him see that.”

My mother’s eyes go wide. “Are you insane? You would wish us both dead, then?” She takes a step back, pretending to be hurt.

I suddenly see where I got the acting gene.

“Or just me?”

“No, Mama. He’s not going to kill you. He would’ve already done it. He spared you because he cares about me. That’s the part you missed. Maxim and I were falling in love. He bought me that car!” I gesture to the street as if my car was still out there and not blown into a billion pieces. I use the car as an example because money is all that matters to my mother. Of course, to me, it wasn’t the car. It was how he looked at me in the car. How he said it matched my eyes. How he walked to fuck me over the top of it. How he liked to spoil and then disrespect me in equal measures.

“I saw his face,” my mother says stubbornly. “He won’t forgive you.”

I straighten my spine. He forgave me once. I think he could do it again. Hopefully it won’t take eight years to heal this time.

“You go to Russia. I’m staying here.”

My mother puts down the suitcase. “I’ll wait. When he rejects you, we’ll go together.”

I don’t pretend she wants to be here with me. She’s staying because if I go back to Maxim, if I declare myself undead, the money is mine again.

Not hers.

When she was talking about being penniless, she was afraid for herself. With Vladimir alive, she would’ve been given a monthly allowance. Now that she killed him, she’ll get nothing. In fact, she’s probably not safe in Moscow at all. I don’t know if Vladimir had many friends, but it seems like someone would want her blood for what she did.

A knock sounds on the door. I walk to open it, but my mother whisper-snaps, “Wait!”

“What?” I whisper-shout back.

“Just because he said we’re free to go doesn’t mean we really are.”

I open the door a crack. It’s Nikolai with my suitcases. As soon as he sees me, he turns and walks away.

“Wait!” I call. “Please. I need to talk to Maxim.”

“That’s not going to happen, printsessa,” Nikolai says.

“He’s my husband,” I insist, as if that will mean something to Nikolai, who is already three-quarters of the way down the hall to the elevator.

“He’s a widower.” Nikolai doesn’t even turn as he speaks the words. And then he steps into the elevator and is gone.

Dammit.

I’ve never hated myself so much in my life. I did everything wrong with Maxim. My stupid, cruel lie about him trying to force me into sex as a teenager. Acting like a spoiled brat when he brought me here.

And I don’t know what I could’ve done differently with my mom, but I wish I’d done it. I shouldn’t have bought the burner phone and told her about my acting class. I shouldn’t have let her sow all that doubt about Maxim. I should have told her-convinced her-that I was happy with him. Then she wouldn’t have made this desperate move.

The one that just ruined my life along with hers.

I choke back a sob as I wheel my suitcases into the hotel room. “I have to see him,” I say.

My mother blocks my path. “We don’t have any money, Sasha. No credit cards, no cash. Nothing.”

“How did you get here?”

“Viktor,” she whispers.

Right. Viktor. Who is dead. My credit card-courtesy of Maxim-was blown up with my purse.