Chapter 7
Veloura pulled the white sheet over Austin’s face with her own hands.
That’s when she realized she’d lost her shoes somewhere in that nightmare–her feet were raw and bloody, caked with dirt.
She collapsed on the hospital floor, grabbing tissues to clean the mess, but the blood just smeared around, mixing with grime until her feet looked worse than before. That’s when something inside her completely shattered.
She clawed at her chest, mouth opening in a silent scream that wouldn’t come. No sound. Just tears pouring down her face like a broken faucet.
She sat there falling apart on a hospital floor for God knows how long.
Finally, she dragged herself home, showered off the horror, and put on clean clothes. Even did her makeup–Austin deserved better than watching his sister look like a corpse at his funeral.
She got his death certificate. Took him to be cremated. Didn’t say a fucking word the entire time.
When they handed her that small wooden box containing everything left of her baby brother, she started laughing. Actually laughing, with tears streaming down her face. Maybe this was better. Austin wasn’t trapped anymore, wasn’t suffering. Now she could take him anywhere.
She bought the most expensive plot she could find and had a proper headstone made. Austin’s spirit needed somewhere to come home to in Manhattan.
Veloura sat by that grave for twenty–four straight hours, talking to him like he could hear her. Told him every childhood memory she could think of. All the things she’d never gotten to say while he was dying in that hospital bed.
When sunrise came, she picked up his ashes and walked away.
Back at the penthouse, she could hear them fucking before she even reached the door. Her hand froze on the keypad.
She almost turned around. Almost.
Instead, she punched in the code and walked into her own personal hell.
The place looked like a war zone. Clothes ripped and scattered everywhere. Anneliese’s torn lingerie hanging off Veloura’s Christmas tree like some sick joke. Empty condom boxes tossed in her grandmother’s fruit bowl.
The whole place reeked of sex and that cheap perfume Anneliese always wore.
And there they were on her couch–Anneliese riding Nikolai like her life depended on it, covered in bite marks, putting on the performance of her lifetime.
“Fuck, Nik, harder! You’re so fucking good at this!”
Veloura walked right past them. Up the stairs. Into her room. Her dead heart felt absolutely nothing.
They went at it for hours. Nikolai sounding like he was having the time of his life while Anneliese switched between screaming in ecstasy and sobbing from overstimulation.
Eventually, her door opened. Nikolai strolled in, fresh from the shower, smelling like expensive soap. His shirt was buttoned wrong and couldn’t hide the claw marks down his neck.
One look at him and Veloura’s stomach lurched. She covered her mouth and started dry heaving.
“What, I disgust you now?” His voice was ice–cold.
Her face said everything.
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him, leaning in to kiss her. When she tried to pull away, his grip tightened until she couldn’t move.
17:15 O
Go Play Your Duet with Your Mistress: My Life’s Melody is Going Solo on My Own
Chapter 7
“I get that you’re pissed off. I’ll make it up to you when I’m done having fun. But if you keep being a brat, your brother’s gonna suffer for it.”
Veloura’s whole body went rigid. Austin was already gone–what the hell else could he do? Dig up his ashes and scatter them?
But Nikolai didn’t know Austin was dead. And suddenly, she realized something that almost made her laugh again.
She had no weakness left. Nothing he could threaten. Nothing he could take away.
For the first time in years, she had power.
“Nik, please. Just let me go. I’m breaking apart here.” She let her voice crack, let the desperation show.
His eyes lit up with satisfaction. He loosened his grip but kept stroking her face like she was his pet. “Don’t be dramatic, baby. Where would you even go? You’ve got nothing without me. Just be good and stop pissing me off.”
“You need me. And I’m never letting you leave.”
Veloura remembered something from years ago–some guy who’d tried to screw Nikolai over in a business deal. Nikolai had locked him in the basement with a room full of snakes because the man was phobic. The screaming had gone on for hours until the guy passed out from pure terror.
He wouldn’t do that to her, but he’d never just let her walk away either.
She looked down, playing the broken wife perfectly. “You’re right. I need you.”
Nikolai smiled like he’d won something. He kissed her forehead with fake tenderness. “Get some sleep. Our anniversary’s in a few days and I want you looking perfect.”
“Okay.” The lie tasted like ash in her mouth.
“Babe, are we going to that gallery thing or not?” Anneliese’s voice from the doorway, impatient and entitled.
Nikolai’s whole face transformed. He practically bounced over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
The second they left, Veloura’s phone rang. Her residency cancellation was complete.
She moved fast after that. Packed one bag–just the absolute necessities–and Austin’s urn. Finalized her new identity paperwork. Opened a bank account under her new name. Bought a one–way ticket to Moscow.
At the airport, sitting in that departure lounge with Austin’s ashes in her lap, Veloura felt something she’d forgotten existed.
Hope.
Freedom.
She wasn’t Nikolai Virellic’s broken doll anymore. She wasn’t anyone’s victim.
She was finally, finally free.
And she was taking her brother home.
