Chapter 81 Marlena
The fight was quiet, which made it worse.
I didn't scream or throw things or let my voice rise above the carefully controlled tone I'd learned to use when I was so angry that losing control felt dangerous, and I sat across the table from Nikolai with the ledger open between us and spoke in a low steady voice that cut deeper than shouting ever could.
"You have been using my father's ledger as leverage this whole time without telling me," I said, and each word came out precise and measured, "you took it from his office and kept it hidden and used it as insurance against people who might come after you, and you never once thought to mention that I might want to know about it."
Nikolai sat very still across from me with his hands flat on the table and his eyes on my face, and he didn't interrupt or try to defend himself, just sat there and took it the way you take punishment you know you deserve.
"And the worst part," I continued, flipping through pages until I found what I was looking for, "the absolute worst part is that I'm in here."
I turned the ledger around so he could see the page I'd found an hour ago while reading through it alone in the bedroom, the page that had made my stomach turn and my hands shake and my vision blur at the edges.
"Marlena Rousseau," I read out loud, pointing to my name written in my father's careful handwriting, "age sixteen, collateral for the Petrov deal, estimated value two hundred thousand euros."
I flipped forward several pages.
"Marlena Rousseau, age seventeen, offered to the Kozlov syndicate as part of the Prague negotiation, declined due to age restrictions."
I flipped forward again.
"Marlena Rousseau, age eighteen, proposed trade to the Milan family in exchange for shipping routes, deal fell through when subject disappeared."
I looked up at Nikolai and his face had gone completely white.
"I am literally listed as property in my father's records," I said, and my voice was still steady but something underneath it was cracking, "I am documented collateral that he tried to trade three separate times, and you knew, you had this ledger and you read it and you knew my father had been planning to sell me and you never said a word."
"I didn't know your name was in there when I first took it," Nikolai said quietly, and his voice was rough like he'd been swallowing gravel, "I took the ledger for the government officials and the judges, for the leverage it would give me, I didn't read every page."
"But you found out later," I said, not asking, just stating the fact I could see written on his face.
"Yes," he admitted, "I found your name about six months ago when I was going through it more carefully, I saw the entries and I didn't know how to tell you."
"You had a hundred chances," I said, and now my voice was rising despite my efforts to control it, "you had every single day for six months to tell me that my father had documented his plans to sell me like livestock, you had countless moments when we were talking about Viktor or about the past or about trust, and you chose silence every single time."
"I know," he said, and the words came out barely above a whisper.
"That's it?" I asked, standing up from the table, "that's all you have to say, just I know?"
"What else is there?" he asked, and he looked up at me with something broken in his eyes, "I kept it from you, I read those entries and I knew they would hurt you and I chose not to tell you because I was a coward, there's no defense for that, there's no explanation that makes it better."
I stared at him and felt something inside me go very cold and very quiet.
"You're right," I said, "there isn't."
I walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Elena's room, and I opened the door carefully and crossed to her crib where she was sleeping on her back with her arms thrown up beside her head.
I picked her up as gently as I could and she stirred but didn't wake, just made a small sound and settled against my chest, and I carried her to the rocking chair in the corner and sat down with her in my arms.
The room was dark except for moonlight coming through the window, and I sat there rocking slowly and holding my daughter and thinking about how many times in my life I had believed in someone who was hiding something.
My father had hidden his entire criminal empire from me and my mother, had smiled at us over dinner while planning deals that involved selling his own daughter, had kissed my forehead goodnight while documenting my value in his ledger like I was merchandise.
Luka had hidden how sick he really was at the end, had pretended he was getting better when he knew he was dying, had smiled and joked and told me not to worry even as the cancer ate him from the inside.
And now Nikolai, who I'd started to trust again after everything, who I'd believed was different now, who I'd thought had learned to be honest, had been keeping my father's ledger hidden for months and hadn't told me my name was in it.
I looked down at Elena's face peaceful in sleep and thought about the world I wanted to give her, a world where people said what they meant and meant what they said, where trust wasn't something that got weaponized or hidden or used as leverage.
I didn't know how to build that world when I kept finding myself surrounded by people who couldn't tell the truth even when it mattered most.
I didn't cry because I was past the point in my life where betrayal made me cry, somewhere over the past year I'd cried myself dry and now pain just made me tired, made me feel heavy and old and worn out in ways that had nothing to do with my actual age.
Elena shifted in my arms and made another small sound, her tiny hand curling around my finger in her sleep, and I held her closer and rocked and listened to the old farmhouse settling around us.
Downstairs I could hear Nikolai moving around in the kitchen, the sound of dishes being washed and chairs being moved, and I knew he was cleaning up because that's what he did when he didn't know what else to do, found tasks to occupy his hands while his mind worked through problems he'd created.
But I didn't go down to him.
I stayed in the chair with Elena and watched moonlight move across the floor as hours passed, and when Elena woke up hungry I fed her there in the dark and changed her and put her back in the crib, and then I climbed into the narrow bed against the wall instead of going back to the room I'd been sharing with Nikolai.
The sheets were cold and the mattress was harder than I was used to but I lay there anyway and stared at the ceiling and thought about what came next, about whether this was something we could recover from or if this was the thing that finally broke us for good.
I'd forgiven him for so much already, for the contract and the blackmail and using me as bait, for getting me shot and costing me the first baby and dragging me into his revenge, I'd forgiven all of it because I'd seen him trying to change, seen him become someone different than the man who'd trapped me in that penthouse.
But this felt different somehow, felt like proof that underneath all the trying he was still the same person who kept secrets and controlled information and couldn't bring himself to trust completely even when trust was the only thing that mattered.
I turned on my side and pulled the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come because my mind kept turning over the same questions.
How many more secrets was he keeping, how many more things would I find out months or years from now that he'd known all along, how many times could I forgive before forgiveness became enabling and trust became stupidity.
I didn't have answers and the not knowing was its own kind of torture.
Downstairs the house went quiet and I knew Nikolai had given up on cleaning and was probably sitting in the dark wondering if I'd come back down, wondering if this was the mistake that finally made me leave.
I stayed where I was and listened to Elena breathing soft and even in her crib, and outside the window dawn started to lighten the sky in shades of grey and pink that I watched without really seeing.