Elena didn’t close the suitcase, but she didn’t add anything else to it either. She sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
Alexander remained standing, the broken door still open behind him like a wound in the room. For a long moment he said nothing. When he finally spoke, the words came slower than usual, as if each one had to be forced past years of careful silence.
“I was twelve when my mother left,” he said. “No note that mattered. No explanation that made sense. One day she was there, the next she was gone, and my father decided the best way to handle it was to pretend she had never existed. He buried himself in work. I learned very quickly that needing anyone was a liability.”
Elena watched him. The cold, controlled man who had tied her down and ordered her to come was suddenly st
