<b>Chapter </b><b>130 </b>
Elena’s POV:
“As long <b>as </b>you ask me to. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, Malishka,” Niki said, his voice low and intense, his dark eyes holding a depth of emotion that momentarily made my breath catch in my throat.
A shiver traced its way down my spine. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady the erratic rhythm of my heart.
Was this normal, though? This bizarre offer of unwavering support from the man who was still technically my husband, the same man whose brother I was now asking to help me find evidence against<b>, </b>evidence that pointed towards a potential involvement in a woman’s death. Morally… it felt inherently wrong. If I were to imagine my own mother evermitting a crime, or even Dad… even if Niki, in some unimaginable scenario, asked me to help him get the crime evidence, I would never, and I mean never, help him.
To me, my family, wed as they might be, would alwayse first, would always be worth protecting above all else. But maybe that <b>was </b>the crucial difference here. My family was worth being shielded, no matter what. Could the same unwavering loyalty be said for the Vetrovs? Or even just for Dmitri, the man whose actions had set this whole terrible chain of events in motion?
I slowly set down my emptytte cup, the ceramic clicking softly against the worn wood. I stood up. Niki’s gaze silently followed my every move, and I could sense the anticipation radiating off him. He was waiting for me to ask. Waiting for me to finally break and beg him to help me uncover the truth.
But I wouldn’t. Not yet. Not like this<b>. </b>
Even after everything that had transpired between us in the past few weeks, even after his apparent remorse and his adamant derations of being in the wrong, even after his apologies … it didn’t magically erase the fundamental breach of trust. The Elena who had once relied on him, however foolishly, was gone.
“Alright then,” I began, my voice steady, meeting his gaze across the table. He subtly shifted closer, a flicker of hope in his dark eyes, clearly anticipating my next words. I finished the sentence, “I am asking you… to stay out of my way, Niki.”
With that said, I grabbed my bag from the back of the chair, not breaking eye contact with him for even a single second. Then, I turned sharply on my heel, the worn leather of my boots scuffing slightly against the café floor. “Good bye,” I said.
I didn’t wait for his reaction, didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing any lingering vulnerability. I simply walked out of the café and into the cool evening air.
He could interpret that sentence however he wanted to. I wasn’t going to diminish my own self–respect any further by begging him for help, not again.
That didn’t mean I didn’t n on investigating Mielle’s death. Of course, I did. The nagging feeling in my gut… it wouldn’t let me rest.
How exactly I was going to aplish that, with my limited resources and knowledge was a daunting question that remained unanswered for the moment. But I would figure something out. I had to. I believed that, even if a small<b>, </b>terrified voice in the back of my mind whispered doubts.
The next thing I did was hail a cab and made my way home. The entrance to our home greeted me with the warm smell of caramel, and I knew instantly that Aunt Rose was baking something again
“Elena?!” I looked at Fiona, bound down the stairs with a wide smile. She bounced on the balls of her feet beforeunching herself into a hug, catching me slightly off guard. Astonished but genuinely touched, I hugged her back tightly.
“Oh God, Elena! I missed you so much!” She eximed, squeezing me tightly, and I smiled softly, a genuine warmth spreading through me despite the heavy weight in my chest. “Your exams are finally over?” <b>I </b>asked, pulling back slightly to look at her face.
She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes heavenward. “I’m practically half–dead from studying, Elena. I don’t even want to hear the word ‘exam‘ ever again. Honestly, I don’t even know how I’ll ever manage to be a doctor.” She finally pulled away, a rueful smile on her face, and I took off my boots as we made our way into the small living room where I found Mom perched on the sofa, her brow furrowed in concentration <b>as </b>she worked on herptop.
She took off her reading sses<b>, </b><b>a </b>relieved smile gracing her features <b>as </b>she got up to hug me. “How are you feeling, honey?”
I felt my smile <b>crack</b>. “I’m alright, Mom,” I said, the lieing easily to my lips.
She rubbed my back in a soothing, familiar gesture<b>, </b>and Fiona frowned, her gaze perceptive. “Right. Sorry, Elena. You just got back from a friend’s funeral, right?” Her voice trailed off, acknowledging the somber asion.
I nodded, a lump forming in my throat at the mention of her name. “Her name was Mielle. I doubt you would have known her.”
Fiona frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then shook her head slowly. “Mielle…” She trailed off again, her fingers flying across the screen of her phone as she pulled it from her pocket. After a few rapid taps, she turned the phone my way. “You mean her?” My heart skipped an uneven beat, <b>a </b>cold dread washing over me as I looked at the image disyed on her screen. It really was Mielle.
Mielle, smiling softly, her head tilted back like she was intoxicated, standing in what looked like a kitchen. Food in bowls on the counter. It seemed like <b>a </b>house party.
“Where did you get this, Fiona?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper <b>as </b><b>I </b>scanned the picture.
“I got it from our private university group chat, Elena…. you know Daniel? He’s close friends with Michael.” She said, and I could tell from the subtle shift in her expression that there was more to the story. A sense of unease settled in my stomach.
“Do you… do you have more?” I asked, my voice low and hesitant. She pursed her lips, her eyes flicking towards Mom before returning to mine, a troubled look in their depths.
“I don’t think so,” she said, but I knew instantly that she wasn’t telling me the whole truth.
“Come on,” I said. I then turned to Mom. “I’ll just take a quick shower and thene down to help you with dinner, okay?” Mom
Mom nodded, her gaze knowing, clearly sensing the underlying tension in the air. I climbed the stairs, Fiona following close behind. As soon as I closed my bedroom door, I turned to face her, and her facade crumbled, her expression mirroring my own growing anxiety.
“Elena… what exactly was your rtionship with Mielle?” Fiona asked, her voice soft but probing. I frowned, unsure how much to reveal. “She was a friend, Fiona. A close one… it’s a long story.”
She bit her lip, her gaze filled with concern. “I think you should probably distance yourself then, Elena… she’s… not really like you. People might start circting nasty rumors about
you…”
I snorted, cutting her off with a harsh, humorlessugh. “Fiona, in most people’s minds, I’m already a slutty bitch. I betrayed‘ my fiancé and married his billionaire brother. Honestly, I don’t really care what people think of me anymore. Please, just… show it to me.” I said, my voice firm. Fiona swallowed, her eyes widening slightly at my bluntness, before nodding slowly, a sigh escaping her lips.
A minuteter, my blood was boiling, a cold fury gripping me as I watched the grainy video Fiona reluctantly shared. It depicted Mielle, clearly intoxicated and vulnerable, lying half–naked on some worn–out lounge area couch. The camera zoomed in cruelly, lingering on her exposed skin.
That bastard. Dmitri had not only taken advantage of her, he had filmed it and allowed it to be spread around like some cheap trophy.
It was sickeningly clear who was involved in the filming. Both Lazar and Dmitri’s faces were visible in the background, their drunken smirks and callousughter echoing in the small bedroom.
It had been those other guys, the ones who always followed Dmitri and Lazar around, and most probably Michael. A wave of nausea, far stronger than the morning sickness, washed over me.