Cara's POV
"Come with me," he had said after that earth shattering piece of news.
My mind echoed what he just said as I simply nodded and followed after him.
The hallway was unnervingly silent, our steps echoing faintly as I followed Alexei down the dimly lit corridor. My wrists still ached from where the chains had been placed, but I wasn't about to complain. Not when Alexei had removed them just moments ago, his gaze locked on mine as he warned me with his eyes; Don't try anything funny.
It wasn't like I could even try anything anyways.
Not when my mind was still reeling from the bomb he'd dropped on my lap.
He'd called me sister. Why? How was that even possible?
And why the hell would he put me in chains if I was indeed his sister?
He was either delusional or this was one big elaborate plot in his plan to torture me.
I wanted to demand answers, to scream at him until he explained himself. His hands were in his pockets and there was an easy, comfortable set in his shoulders. He whistled to himself as we walked down the halls, thoroughly at ease, enjoying the oppressive silence he had put me in that made my thoughts spiral wildly out of control.
I knew his easy-going charm was just an illusion, a mask. I've seen how easily he could switch to a bloodthirsty monster and I couldn't afford to let my guard down.
His sister…
The thought continued to spin in my mind, making my stomach tight with unease. I kept my eyes on his broad back as he strode purposefully ahead, his presence as commanding as ever, though now tinged with something else-something I couldn't quite name.
We stopped in front of a large door and Alexei reached for the handle, pausing briefly as though preparing himself, and then pushed it open.
I hesitated, glancing at him for some hint of what awaited me on the other side. His expression was friendly, almost soft, a lopsided grin tugged at his lips.
With a deep breath, I crossed the threshold, my heart pounding as I took in the room.
It was spacious, the walls lined with shelves full of books and maps. At the center of the room sat a man in a wheelchair, his dark blonde hair streaked with silver and his eyes fixed on me the moment I entered.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat as I wondered what this was.
The man didn't speak. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable-until his face crumpled. His lips trembled, and then, to my utter shock, tears began to roll down his cheeks.
"What…?" I stammered, the sound barely audible even to my own ears.
The sight was so unexpected, so unreal, that for a moment, I couldn't move. Was I hallucinating? Was this all a dream?
I turned to Alexei, desperate for some sort of explanation, but his face didn't really give much away.
"What is going on?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound composed. "Who is he?"
Alexei strolled further into the room. "This," he waved a casual hand at the blubbering old man, "is Ronan Mikhailov."
The name meant nothing to me, and the confusion must have shown on my face because Alexei's next words were even more pointed.
"He's my father," he said, then added pointedly, "and yours."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I staggered back a step, shaking my head fiercely.
"No," I said, my voice rising. "I'm not– It's not–"
Alexei's gaze was unrelenting. "It is."
"No!" I snapped, the word sharp and cutting. "You're lying. This is some kind of sick joke, a twisted ploy to use me against Luca."
Ronan wiped at his face, his movements slow and deliberate as he finally spoke, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Katya," he said softly, his eyes glistening as they met mine. "I finally get to see you again, my sweet daughter."
"No," I whispered, backing away further. "My name is Cara Torello. My father was Emilio Torello."
That name seemed to fill the atmosphere with something cold and poisonous.
"Who?" Alexei asked, all humour gone from his voice.
"M- my fath-"
"Chertov chert vozmi!" Alexei scoffed, his tone filled with disdain. "THAT'S the man who kidnapped you! Who robbed you of a family." he said coldly. "The man who sold you to the Colombians and told the world you were dead. That Emilio Torello?"
My knees wobbled, the room spinning as the weight of his words pressed down on me.
"This isn't happening," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.
Alexei stepped closer and gripped my shoulders, his voice low but forceful. "Look at me, Cara. Really look."
I turned to him, my chest tightening as I actually took in his features… It felt like something suddenly clicked in place. His blonde hair. The sharp angles of his face. The resemblance was undeniable, a cruel truth staring me in the face.
I reached up, touching my own hair absently, the motion almost involuntary.
No. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, forcing the image out of my brain.
"I don't believe you," I said, my voice shaking. "I can't."
Alexei's hands fell from my shoulders.
Ronan moved forward in his wheelchair, reaching for a drawer in the desk beside him. "I have something that will prove it," he said softly, his voice breaking. "Come. Please."
Against my better judgment, I took a hesitant step forward, then another, until I was standing in front of him.
He pulled out a small, weathered photograph and held it out to me with trembling hands.
I took it reluctantly, my fingers brushing against his for the briefest of moments before I looked down at the image.
My breath caught in my throat.
The woman in the photograph stared back at me, her face eerily familiar. Her blonde hair framed her face in soft waves, her piercing green eyes identical to my own. It was my face except that I had never taken a picture like this. The resemblance was uncanny.
"That's Katarina," Ronan said, his voice thick with emotion. "Your mother. She was everything to me."
I couldn't look away from the photo, my mind racing as I tried to process what I was seeing.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "This doesn't prove anything. Anyone could look like me. It doesn't mean I'm her."
"Of course," Alexei interjected, "that's why we carried out a blood test just to be sure."
I clutched myself in horror. "What?!"
Alexei shrugged, not seeing the violation in all of this. "It was the only way we could be hundred percent sure."
Ronan's voice was steady, despite the tears streaming down his face. "You were taken from us when you were just a baby," he said. "We thought you were dead. For years, I believed it. But you're here. You're alive."
"No," I said again, my voice breaking. "No… It's not true."