Page 41 of Tainted Empire

Reluctantly, I pull away and open the car door. As I step out, I look back at him, trying to offer a reassuring smile. “I love you, Mikhail.”

“Love you too, Malyshka,” he replies, his eyes filled with a mix of love and worry.

Taking a deep breath, I head into the safe house. The moment I step inside, I notice the change in atmosphere. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Lee is quieter than usual, her usual energetic demeanor replaced by something more reserved.

“Hey,” I greet her, trying to keep my voice casual. “How’s it going?”

She looks up, forcing a smile. “Hey, Gabi. It’s all good. Just a long day and it’s not even noon.”

“I hear you,” I nod, dropping my bag on the couch and bracing myself for the next conversation. “Listen, Mikhail and I have talked things through and I’ve been thinking…that it’s time for me to move back home.”

Lee’s expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something I can’t quite place crossing her features. “Really? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I am,” I say, holding her gaze. “If we can’t trust those close to us, then who can we trust? It’s time I stopped hiding and actually work on my marriage.”

She nods, though I can tell she’s processing this new information. “Alright, if that’s what you want. Just make sure Mikhail knows you’re not the same woman you were before.”

I smile, thinking about this morning. “He does, trust me.”

We chat for a bit longer, but the conversation feels strained, the easy rapport we once had seemingly frayed at the edges.

If we can’t trust those closest to us, who’s left to trust? What I said lingers as I talk to her, a haunting reminder of the precarious game we’re all playing.

As I head to my room later, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. Lee’s reaction was a bit too controlled, too measured. But right now, my priority is to get back home, back to where I belong.

With Mikhail.

As I close the door to my room, a sliver of sadness pierces my heart. Lee has been there for me since this all started, but now she may not be trustworthy? I hate this life, hate that you cannot even trust those closest to you.

I move to the window, peering out into the garden, searching for something, anything, that might offer a hint of normalcy in this twisted game we’re playing. But the answers won’t be there, I know this.

I pull out my phone, sending a quick text to Mikhail. Just three words, but they carry the weight of my world: “I miss you.” I know he’s probably working now, his mind as troubled as mine, but I need him to know that I am thinking about him.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my mind replaying the last few days. Every conversation, every glance, searching for clues I might have missed. Lee’s behavior is troubling, but I can’t jump to conclusions. Not yet. We’ve been through too much to let paranoia win without a fight.

My phone buzzes, Mikhail’s response lighting up the screen: “Miss you more.” A small smile crosses my lips and I feel like a high school girl who just received a text from her crush.

I know what I need to do. I need to stay alert, keep my guard up. I can’t let my feelings for Mikhail cloud my judgment. But at the same time, I can’t let fear dictate my actions. We’ve come too far to give up now.

I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the shadows playing tricks on my eyes. Sleep feels like a distant dream, but I know I need to rest. Tomorrow will bring its own challenges, and I need to be ready.

As I finally drift off, my last thought is of Mikhail. His strength, his love. They’re my beacon in this darkness, guiding me home. And I know, no matter what happens, we’ll face it together. We have to.

The morning light filters through the blinds, casting a soft glow in my room. I wake up feeling slightly more rested, the brief respite of sleep giving me a renewed sense of determination. As I get ready for the day, my thoughts are focused on one thing: finding out the truth about Lee.

Breakfast is a quiet affair. Lee’s there, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. It’s forced, a mask she’s wearing, and it doesn’t escape my notice. I keep the conversation light, talking about mundane things, but I’m acutely aware of the tension in the air.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” I comment, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Yeah, beautiful,” she replies, but her voice lacks its usual warmth. Something’s definitely off.

After breakfast, I decided to do some snooping around. If there are answers to be found, I need to find them, and fast.

As I’m going through some books in the study, a piece of paper falls out from one of the encyclopedias. It’s a receipt for a large sum of money, and the name on it sends a chill down my spine.

Liadan Vittori.

My heart races as I piece together the implications. This could be the evidence I need to prove she’s not to be trusted. But I can’t jump to conclusions. I need more proof, something concrete.