The name Nikolai Sokolov lingered in my mind like a poison, but it wasn’t the only thing I had to worry about now.
Because as soon as we left Evelyn’s apartment, my phone rang.
An unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
But something in my gut told me to answer.
“Hello?”
A pause. A long, uncomfortable silence.
And then...
“Bela.”
My heart stopped.
I knew that voice.
I hadn’t heard it in years.
But I’d never forgotten it.
“Aunt Helena.”
Clara stiffened beside me, instantly catching the change in my expression.
The voice on the other end remained calm. Too calm. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
I swallowed, my grip on the phone tightening. “What do you want?”
A soft chuckle. “You always were so direct. Just like your mother.”
My stomach twisted. “Don’t talk about her.”
She ignored me. “We need to talk. In person.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Bela.” The amusement in her tone faded, replaced with something colder. More calculated. “You know better than to refuse family.”
Clara was watching me closely now, her hand gently brushing against mine, grounding me.
“I don’t have a family,” I said, voice steady. “Not anymore.”
Another pause. Then, a sigh. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
The call ended.
I lowered the phone slowly, my hands shaking.
Clara’s voice was soft. “Who was that?”
I exhaled sharply. “My mother’s sister.”
Clara frowned. “I didn’t even know you had an aunt.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I like to pretend I don’t.”
We drove back to the apartment in silence. I could feel Clara watching me, waiting for me to speak, but I wasn’t ready yet.
My mind was spiraling.
My mother had cut ties with her family years before she died. I barely remembered them. Just shadows in old photographs, whispers of a past my mother refused to acknowledge.
But Helena?
She was different.
She had always been the one pulling the strings. The one who wanted control.
And now, after all these years, she had decided to come back.
Why?
I didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
Because when we arrived home, she was already there.
Sitting on the steps in front of our building, wearing a perfectly tailored coat and an expression that said she had all the time in the world.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Clara tensed beside me. “Bela?”
Helena stood, smoothing down her sleeves as she met my gaze. “I see you got my message.”
I forced myself to breathe, to keep my voice steady. “You shouldn’t be here.”
She smiled. “Neither should you.”
We didn’t talk outside.
Helena insisted on privacy, so against my better judgment, I let her inside.
She took in the apartment with mild interest, her gaze lingering on the small details—the books on the shelf, the wine glasses left from last night.
She turned to me with a smirk. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
I crossed my arms. “Cut the act. Why are you here?”
She sighed, tilting her head. “So impatient. You never did like waiting, did you?”
I clenched my jaw. “I’m not playing this game, Helena.”
She studied me for a moment, then finally sat down. “Fine. Let’s be direct. Your mother may have turned her back on the family, but that doesn’t mean the family turned its back on you.”
I scoffed. “That’s exactly what it means.”
A flicker of something passed through her eyes. “We gave your mother a choice, Bela. She chose wrong.”
My stomach twisted. “You mean she chose me.”
Helena’s expression didn’t change. “And look where that got her.”
Something inside me snapped. I took a step forward, my hands clenched into fists, but Clara grabbed my arm before I could do anything reckless.
Her voice was calm but firm. “If you came here to threaten her, you should leave now.”
Helena’s gaze flickered to Clara for the first time, studying her like she was something to be analyzed, dissected.
“Clara, is it?” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve read about you.”
Clara didn’t flinch. “I bet you have.”
Helena turned back to me, her amusement fading. “I didn’t come here to fight, Bela. I came to offer you an opportunity.”
I frowned. “What opportunity?”
Her lips curled into a smirk. “To come back.”
I laughed. A sharp, bitter sound. “You think I’d ever want to be part of this family again?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
The air in the room shifted.
Clara stiffened beside me, sensing the threat beneath those words.
I forced myself to stay calm. “I always have a choice.”
Helena leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you?”
A beat of silence.
Then, she slid something across the table toward me. A small, sealed envelope.
My pulse pounded in my ears.
I didn’t want to open it.
Didn’t want to see whatever trap she was setting.
But I did.
And what I found inside made my blood run cold.
A single photograph.
Of my mother.
Taken weeks before she died.
Helena’s voice was soft. “She was trying to tell you something, Bela. Something important.”
I stared at the photo, my fingers tightening around the edges.
My mother had known something.
Something I never got the chance to hear.
And now, Helena was dangling it in front of me like bait.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice dangerously low.
Helena stood, adjusting the lapels of her coat.
“To finish what your mother started.”
Then she walked out, leaving me with nothing but questions.
And a growing sense of dread.
Clara sat beside me after Helena left, watching me carefully.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. “No.”
She placed a hand on mine, squeezing lightly. “We’ll figure this out.”
I nodded, but my eyes stayed locked on the photograph.
Because if my mother had been trying to tell me something before she died.
That meant her death wasn’t an accident.
And that changed everything.