Vengeance

CHAPTER 19

"Anatoly mentioned that he would be out of state for a while," Tabitha said softly as soon as they entered the house. Mikhail, who was keeping the keys on the table, turned to face her.

"Did he now?" he asked, his tone calm but with a knowing edge.

Her brow furrowed in curiosity. "You have something to do with it, don’t you?" she asked, her voice cautious but laced with suspicion.

"Yes. I told you I’d make sure he’d be too busy to harass you."

"But how?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing as her curiosity deepened.

"I have a couple of clients who need a good IT guy," Mikhail explained, leaning against the edge of the table. "Even though I might no longer like my brother, he is good at what he does, at least that’s what his credentials say. So, I recommended his name. I knew Anatoly would never turn down a lucrative opportunity, and my mother? She would follow his tail wherever he goes."

Tabitha’s brows furrowed, a pang of guilt hitting her. "How long will this go on? It’s not fair to you," she said, her voice tinged with worry. Mikhail had gone out of his way to shield her from his brother.

"Tabitha, as much as I’m doing this for you, I’m also doing it for myself," Mikhail admitted, his tone thoughtful, his gaze drifting away as if lost in the labyrinth of his own mind. "I need to know more about those two—Anatoly and my mother—and with them out of the way for now, I might finally get the chance to uncover what I’ve been searching for."

"What do you mean?" she asked, stepping closer, her concern growing.

"That’s nothing you should concern yourself with," Mikhail stated firmly, his tone low and steady. "You already have enough to deal with, and I won’t drag you deeper into my family’s mess. You need to rest. I’ll ask Maria to bring you some food."

To his surprise, Tabitha didn’t press him further, though the unease in her eyes remained. She hesitated for a moment, her hands fidgeting slightly. "Anatoly will find out I’m staying here," she said softly, her voice tinged with worry. "I’m sure he’s hired someone to watch me."

"I know," Mikhail replied, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed his uneasiness. "But he’ll only hear what I want him to. Don’t worry about that." His gaze lingered on her face, searching for any signs of deeper harm. "Did Anatoly hurt you badly?" he asked, his voice quieter now, though a silent prayer echoed in his heart that Anatoly hadn’t crossed an irreversible line.

Tabitha shook her head, though her expression remained haunted. "No. But he’s dead set on making my life miserable," she said, her voice trembling as she forced herself to continue. "He… he wants to be my boyfriend in the truest sense." The words slipped out, barely audible, but enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Mikhail’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The thought alone was enough to stir rage deep within him, but he held it back for her sake. "He won’t," Mikhail said firmly, his voice low and laced with a silent fury. "You are and will be safe from him. I won’t let him touch you, Tabitha."

Tabitha quietly retreated to her room. As she pushed open the door, a wave of disbelief washed over her, her eyes darting around the space. Everything she bought from her home was here, seamlessly organized.

Her books were neatly stacked on the table alongside her papers. The cosmetics and toiletries she used daily were arranged perfectly on the dressing table and in the bathroom. Even her clothes were crisply hung in the cupboard, ironed, and organized in a way she had never managed to do herself.

How in the world had Mikhail accomplished this? When had he done this? And, most importantly, why?

It wasn’t long before Maria entered the room, carrying a tray of food.

"Thank you," Tabitha murmured as she watched Maria carefully set the tray down.

"Are you alright, honey?" Maria asked, her concern palpable.

Tabitha forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yes," she replied quietly.

Maria lingered for a moment, her expression gentle. "Call me if you need anything else."

As Maria turned to leave, Tabitha called out to her. "Maria, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, dear?" Maria stopped and turned back, her attention fully on her.

"Did you place my belongings?" Tabitha asked, her voice soft but curious.

"No, but the staff did," Maria replied, her tone kind.

"Thank you," Tabitha said, though her words felt heavy. "I’m sorry for causing so much trouble."

Maria gave her a warm smile. "Do not thank me. I was just doing my job, following Mikhail’s instructions."

She quietly nodded, feeling a sense of resignation settle in her chest. She wasn't sure if she could even express how dissatisfied she felt with the life she was leading.

To her utter surprise and disappointment, Mikhail hardly showed his presence over the next few days. True to his words, Anatoly didn't contact her. Mikhail had kept his distance, as promised, and avoided crossing paths with her. He had given her the space she hadn't even known she needed. But she wasn't sure if she appreciated his action because she missed him.

He left before she had the chance to wake up and returned later after she had already drifted into a deep slumber. It was during these quiet hours that she knew he had stayed the night, though not by his words, but by the way she woke. Each time a nightmare pulled her from sleep, she found herself nestled against him, wrapped in his warmth. It was a comfort that anchored her in the midst of her turmoil.

However, as the morning light crept into her room, Mikhail would be gone, but his scent lingered in the air. An affirmation that he was not a dream but a reality.

But this dreamy reality begins to fade away. She hated the fact that Mikhail was deliberately hiding from her, retreating into the shadows of his own home. She was feeling dejected and more alone than she had ever felt. She hated it even more because, deep down, she knew she was the reason he felt like a stranger in his own home.

A deep sense of dejection washed over her, a loneliness she hadn’t felt before. The silence between them had grown thicker, suffocating her. She let out a long, aching sigh. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away, but they refused to stop. They dropped one after another, accompanied by a surge of frustration.

She felt small, pathetic, and frustrated with how things were turning around for her. Was she really that bad of a person? Was that why everyone around her either wanted to use her for their own gain or simply didn’t want her at all?

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her. For the first time, she felt mental exhaustion overpowering all the physical exertion put together her entire life. Without thinking, without even grabbing a coat to shield herself from the piercing cold, she stood up. She had to leave. She needed to escape from the heaviness of the house, from the suffocating silence that had become her prison.

Meanwhile, Mikhail had just arrived home, the night stretching late into the hours. It was one-thirty in the morning, too late for Tabitha to be awake, but not too late for her nightmares to take hold. He knew the signs—at two-thirty, the shaking would start, the fear creeping in as her dreams turned dark. And though he was late tonight, he wasn’t worried. He knew he would be there, like he always was, to pull her out of the darkness, to offer her the warmth and security she needed.

A wave of emptiness swept over him the moment he opened the gate to enter his home. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t experienced since Tabitha had come to stay with him. Despite their strained relationship, her presence had filled the house with warmth. But tonight was different. A sense of unease settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the door handle. He hoped—no, he expected—to find her asleep in their bed. But as he stepped inside, his heart skipped a beat. The bed was empty. Panic gripped him, and his pulse quickened. He rushed toward the bathroom, his hands trembling as he turned the doorknob.

The room was empty. She wasn’t there.

His breath caught in his throat. "Tabitha!" he called out, his voice thick with desperation. He waited, praying for her to return his calls.

Unfortunately, he was met with silence. His hand twitched as he shakily dialed her number, but the server was unreachable. He tried to call her a couple of times but was met with the same response. In a panic, he called one of his trusted men, urgently demanding that they track her location. While he waited for a response, his mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. Grabbing his car keys, he stormed out of the house, determined to find her himself.

He briefly considered checking the rooftop first. It wasn't very long before she tried to kill herself, and he didn't want to put the money into her attempting to do the same once again.

Fortunately, before he could see for the worst, his phone buzzed with a location update from his man. It was only a twenty-minute drive away, but it was his sheer bad luck that it was the same location where she tried to end her life.

His stomach twisted into knots.

He pushed the accelerator harder, praying she wasn’t at that location for the same tragic reason. His mind raced through the worst-case scenarios, and the desperation to reach her overtook him. He could only hope he was quick enough this time.

A wave of relief flooded through him when he finally spotted her, sitting on the pavement, staring ahead as if lost in thought. His heart, which had been pounding with anxiety, steadied for a brief moment, but the dread still clung to him.

He parked the car haphazardly, barely registering the sound of tires screeching on the road, and rushed towards her, each step faster than the last. He had to make sure she was okay.

"What in the world are you doing here?" Mikhail panted, his breath visible in the cold night air. His heart was still racing, though seeing her there, alive and unharmed, brought him some semblance of peace.

Tabitha blinked, her expression slightly dazed, as if she had just been pulled out of a distant world. Slowly, she removed the earplugs from her ears and turned her gaze toward him. Her brows furrowed ever so slightly, her confusion evident.

"Mikhail," she murmured, her voice soft and distant, as though she hadn’t fully registered his presence.

"Yes, it's me, Mikhail." He affirmed, his voice edged with anger and frustration. Without wasting another second, he grabbed her hand with firm intent, ready to drag her home. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? We’re going home. I’m going to have to put you on a tight leash now. This is the second time—"

But Tabitha cut him off, her tone calm yet laced with irritation. "I’m not here to take my life," she said, rolling her eyes slightly. "I’m simply enjoying the wind and the view. It’s peaceful here, Mikhail."

"I don’t believe you," he shot back, his voice steely with authority. "We’re going home now."

As he tugged again, she yanked her hand free, standing firm and crossing her arms in defiance. Her eyes locked onto his, challenging him. "But I don’t want to go. You can go home alone."

"I’m not leaving you here. Not alone," he replied, his tone harsh.

"Your choice. I’m not stopping you from staying," she countered, turning her focus back toward the horizon, her voice calm but unyielding.

Mikhail stared at her for a long second, his frustration mounting. With a groan of resignation, he ran a hand through his hair and stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next.

"Christ!" Tabitha suddenly exclaimed, glancing at him. "Just relax, will you? I’m not that bad of a company."

"I never said you were," he replied, his voice softer now, though his arms remained crossed as if guarding himself.

"Then why the hell are you staring at me like a hawk? Just sit down," she said, exasperation creeping into her voice.

He sighed heavily and, after a moment, mirrored her position, settling down beside her. His gaze softened as he studied her profile in the dim light. "What are you truly doing here at this time of the night, Tabitha?"

"I don't know," she replied, her voice distant. "I just wanted to be anywhere but at your house."

Her words struck him like a blow, a sting that burrowed into his already wounded heart. He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure. "Why?" he asked quietly, his voice barely audible, disheartened.

"It's lonely?" Her words came out as a question. "I hate that you avoid being in your own house because of me."

A small wave of relief coursed through Mikhail. It felt unexpectedly comforting to hear that she didn’t want him to avoid her. “Tabitha…” he began softly.

“Don’t deny it,” she interrupted, her soft gaze strongly pierced into him, daring him to lie. "You’re only there when I’m asleep. I may not be fully conscious, but I can sense you. I can feel your presence beside me when I’m having a nightmare.”

"It's for your own good. After everything that took place, I know that you are not comfortable with me. Plus, it definitely doesn't help that I have the same face as Anatoly."

Tabitha tilted her head slightly, her voice calm as she stated an obvious fact, "He’s your twin."

"Not by choice," Mikhail mumbled under his breath, bitterness creeping into his tone.

She gave him a small, wry smile. "Cheer up. One cannot choose their family."

He let out a dry laugh, a hint of frustration simmering beneath it. "Who says? Sure, we don’t get to choose the family we’re born into, but we absolutely have the choice to pick the family we want to build—people we want to spend our future with."

His eyes bore into hers, softening with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. It was hard to pull herself away from his stare, which reflected so much warmth and love. Tabitha felt her breath catch, uncertainty tugging at her as she teetered on the edge of something unfamiliar, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to explore.

She didn’t say a word, but somehow, Mikhail understood. There was a quiet, unspoken chemistry between them—inevitable and undeniable. He knew, deep in his soul, that she was the one for him. Yet doubt gnawed at the edges of his certainty. He had always sensed she might feel something for him too, but the weight of his past and the tangled complications of their present stood like immovable obstacles. His biggest regret was not being honest with her from the start.

"For what it's worth, I am truly sorry," Mikhail said, his voice low and tinged with regret as he broke the gaze that seemed to hold them both captive.

"As you should be. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?"

"I wanted to. I swear I did. But fear... fear makes you do the wrong things. It clouds your judgment and makes you believe the lies you tell yourself. And now, I’m not proud of what I did because it made me realize..." He paused, "That I’ve lost the most important thing I could ever have."

Tabitha’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she listened to his words, each one laced with regret.

"Tabitha, I am truly sorry for everything. I know I should have told you the truth right away instead of misusing your trust. It was wrong of me—unforgivably so. But..." He hesitated, his gaze searching hers. "What if I had told you? Would you have even considered being in the same room with me?"

She remained silent, giving his question the weight it deserved. The truth was, she didn’t know. She wasn’t sure what her reaction would have been if he had confessed everything from the start.

"I know the answer is no," Mikhail continued after her silence, his tone heavy with certainty. "You wouldn’t have listened to my side. You would have instantly demanded to meet Anatoly. And even if you had listened to me, you might have not believed me."

Tabitha tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "And I would have still been trapped with him, without knowing about his intentions," she murmured. "So maybe... whatever happened was for the best."

"Was it, really?" Mikhail's voice carried a mixture of skepticism and sorrow. His gaze bore into hers, searching for an answer she might not even have.

She shrugged. "I suppose. It does feel like I would have been happier if you hadn't come into my life at all. But then again, would I have truly been? Anatoly and Anastasia were playing me. So, I do have to thank you for that."

Mikhail didn't share her emotions. "Are you feeling alright at home? Is there anything you need?" His question hung in the air, a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Tabitha hesitated before answering, her eyes avoiding his. "Not really. But what I do need," she paused, taking a breath, "is for you to stop avoiding me. It makes me feel...." She trailed off, the weight of the words pressing on her chest.

“Feel what?” Mikhail asked gently, his eyes searching hers for the truth she struggled to voice.

"Crap. Unwanted." The words left her slowly, but they carried the heaviness of all the loneliness and uncertainty she’d been carrying for so long.

“Oh, Tabitha…” Mikhail’s voice broke with regret, his heart aching for her. “That was never my intention.”

She remained silent, her eyes avoiding his as if the weight of his words wasn’t enough to erase the hurt she felt.

“I just wanted you to feel comfortable,” he added, his tone soft but full of sincerity.

“I know,” she whispered, but the words felt distant as if they couldn’t reach the part of her that was still so unsure of everything.

“Come on,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion. “Let’s go home.”

She shook her head, her resolve stronger than ever. “I don’t want to.”

“But…” He paused, the heaviness of her words settling between them, unsure of how to reach her when she felt so far away.

To his surprise, she rested her head on his shoulder, and for a brief moment, he froze, shock rippling through him. The softness of her sigh, the way she let herself lean into him, filled him with a warmth he hadn’t expected. It was a quiet but undeniable sign that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate him. His heart clenched with the fragile hope that they would find their way back to each other.

With a deep breath and gathered courage, Mikhail decided to embrace the moment. Tentatively, he looped his hand through hers, his grip gentle but firm. For once, he allowed himself to enjoy the simple connection, feeling something shift between them, something that, for the first time in a long while, felt like peace.