Chapter 156 Chapter 156 Vacation
I should have stayed home, but I needed to dispose of the gun. Dimitri watched me take it apart like it was some kind of performance. I don’t know how I knew what to do—how to slide each piece loose, how to break it down so cleanly—but my hands didn’t hesitate. It felt instinctive, like muscle memory from a life I don’t remember living. He didn’t ask questions. He just leaned back, arms crossed, that crooked smile on his face, more than amused.
When I was done, I concealed each piece separately, wrapping them and tucking them into different compartments of my bags. On my way back home, I made sure no part of it stayed with me for long. At every layover, I got rid of something—one piece in a bathroom bin, another behind a vending machine, one dropped into a gutter like it meant nothing. By the time I reached Sofia, only the final piece remained. I threw it away in a trash can at the train station. Gone. All of it. No one will ever find it.
The train screeches to a halt, metal grinding sharply. I sit on a bench under the awning, watching people pour out—families, couples, tired travelers dragging their lives behind them. No one notices me. Soon they’ll call passengers to board, and in two hours I’ll be in that small mountain village again.
It’s bittersweet being here alone. The kind of alone that settles deep in your chest. I almost asked Dimitri to come. I even typed it once, then deleted it. He has to stay. There’s too much happening.
Ivan did not get bail.
Because of who he is. Because of his father. Because of the money and the multiple citizenships that make it easy for him to disappear. They call him a flight risk. I call it fucking bullshit. Dimitri and Illia Sr. are working with Ivan’s lawyer, trying to get the charges reduced. The weapon in question is missing.
And because I had something to do with that… no one will ever find it.
My phone dings as they call passengers to board. I grab my luggage and move quickly inside, finding my cabin. Once I’m settled, I pull out my phone.
It’s Dimitri.
The district attorney is looking to make a name for himself. We go to trial. They are pushing to make it happen sooner. You will need to testify.
I read it again. And again.
Something inside me twists, sharp and ugly. I am going to lose Ivan. I can feel it coming like a storm you can’t outrun. And worse—I know he will hurt me. Maybe not in a way anyone else can see, but he will.
And I let him back in anyway.
Stupid girl.
The train starts moving, slow at first, then faster. I press my forehead to the window, watching the city fade into countryside. The scenery shifts—mountain tops in the distance, green hills rolling endlessly, wildflowers scattered like spilled paint. Massive trees stand tall, ancient and unmoving.
It’s beautiful.
A fairytale.
And I don’t belong.
At the station, the air feels cleaner, quieter. Maria, the caretaker of the villa, is waiting for me. She lights up when she sees me.
“Elena!” she calls. “This way, my dear. My nephew will drive us.”
I drag my bags toward her, something about her feeling familiar, though I can’t place it.
She leads me to the parking lot where a black BMW is parked. A young man leans against it, arms folded. He reminds me of Dimitri—light brown hair, blue eyes, a jaw sharp enough to cut. Clean-shaven, put together, and he smells fucking amazing even from a distance. But his clothes give him away. City boy.
“This is Atanas,” Maria says. “My nephew. He is visiting from Sofia for the summer to help out.”
I offer a small smile but say nothing. He steps forward, taking my bags and loading them into the trunk before opening the door for me.
Maria and I sit in the back. I watch him as he adjusts the mirror. His eyes land on me within seconds.
Oh boy. Another one.
At least I’m not wearing anything revealing. Just jeans, a sweatshirt, tennis shoes.
As we begin the drive up the mountain, Maria talks nonstop, filling the silence with details about the villa, the animals, the land. There’s a small house on the property where she lives. She tells me everything has been cleaned, dusted, prepared.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” I say, glancing out the window. “I’m excited.”
Maria reaches over, taking my hands in hers. Her grip is warm, firm.
“Are you going to move here? Soon?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
“I have a year to finish my master’s at the university,” I say, maybe a little too casually. “And then the baby and I will move.”
Her eyes widen instantly.
“Baby?” she asks.
I see Atanas shift in his seat, his attention snapping back to me instead of the winding cobblestone road. The villas scattered along the mountain are breathtaking—historic, hidden behind tall walls and ancient trees. The road twists deeper into the forest, and I know mine is waiting somewhere ahead.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
I can’t tell her the truth—that I’m adopting. She’ll look at me differently. People always do. A pregnant single woman is easier for them to understand, easier to judge in predictable ways. Adoption invites questions I don’t want to answer.
Now I have to lie.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she says quickly.
But she does. I can see it in her eyes. She reminds me of those babas in the city, the ones who sit outside their apartment blocks all day, watching, listening, collecting stories that aren’t theirs to tell.
“Is it Ivan Pavlov’s?” she asks. “Your boyfriend?”
It clicks.
The last time I was here, Ivan and I were photographed together. There are pictures—my sister’s wedding, our fathers side by side, the kind of event people talk about. Stanislav told me it’s practically common knowledge.
She isn’t wrong.
It is his.
I’m just not the one carrying it. Because I can’t. Because my body is missing the necessary parts to do the one natural thing women have done since the beginning of time.
“Yes,” I say simply.
I don’t offer anything more, but it’s enough. She already thinks she knows the rest. She starts asking about his arrest, about whether I’ll be alone here, about everything and nothing all at once.
A million questions.
Until Atanas cuts in.
“Enough, auntie. Give it a rest,” he says, his tone sharp but not cruel. “Elena is here to relax. You are stressing her out, and it is not your business.”
Silence falls for a moment.
Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror again, but this time something has changed. His blue eyes are softer now, less curious, more… understanding.