by Sienna Blake
“Oh, Natassia,” I breathe, “I’ve been such a fool.” My blood rushes with purpose, my veins swollen with clarity. “I need to find Dante.” I fling myself from my seat and begin to run, my soul feeling like it has remembered its wings, now taking flight.
I stagger back from the desk, the papers slipping from my hands, scattering like scared doves. The realisation of what I’ve done feels like death’s blow.
I have been the fool.
I had all these chances to listen to her—truly listen to her—but my ears rang with insult. I had all these chances to see the truth, but I kept myself blind with revenge, clinging onto my bloated pride. I had all these days to grab onto her, to reach for our future, but my hands were too filled with hate.
It’s not furniture and stuff that fills a home, but laughter and voices and love.
All those things had been in my grasp. I let them slip through my fingers. I let her slip through my fingers.
I’ve lost her.
I’ve lost her forever.
I have only myself to blame.
63
____________
Dimitri
I pull all the pages together and read the rest of the manuscript. It’s good writing. Raw and wild and passionate. It’s Alena all over. My heart squeezes with every page, my eyes sting with pride. I always knew she had it in her. Always.
“You can do anything, Alena.”
I read all the way to the last page in one sitting. After I finish I sink back into the chair that she once sat on.
In Alena’s story, “Ana” falls pregnant and has a boy that she names Dante Junior. She gets her money. The next time her husband is away on business, she takes her baby and “Emma” with her to the USA. She finds Dante, begs his forgiveness. And…
Ana gasps as she gazes up at me. “You…you forgive me?”
“Of course.” I brush my lips across hers. “After all, that’s what love is.”
This was what Alena dreamed of. This was what she wanted. Me, as part of her family.
What I wouldn’t give to have this fairy-tale ending. I would give my entire fortune. Everything I own.
Life is not like fairy tales.
I am not the prince who gets his princess. I am just a short-sighted fool.
There is a knock on my door. “You called for me?” Javier’s familiar voice fills Alena’s old office, where I now spend my days.
It still smells faintly of her. I run my thumb over the ink smudge on the wood. It’s the size and shape of Alena’s thumb. My thumb now rests where hers once did.
Javier stands in front of her desk. “Dimi?”
She used to call me Dimi. I look up. “How is she?”
He blinks. “Who?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you’ve been keeping tabs on…” I work my throat around the knot. “Alena.” Her name sends another stab of hurt through me.
Javier nods. “You know me too well.”
“So?”
“She’s doing okay. She has a job now, administration work at the school. It doesn’t pay much, but they’re getting by.”
I nod. “She’s a survivor.” She can survive anything.
Even…me.
Alena doesn’t want me anymore. I could not give her a family. I would be damned if I wasn’t going to give her the only other fairy tale she’s ever dreamed of.
“Javier, I need you to do something else for me.”
“Yes, sir?”
I nod to the pile of papers on the desk. “Find a publisher for this manuscript.”
Javier frowns. “You wrote a book?” He steps up to the desk. His eyes widen when he sees Alena’s name on the cover page that I printed out and placed on top.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn.
He shuts his mouth.
“When you get an offer—and only when—tell Alena. Give her the offer. Don’t tell her that I did this. Tell her… Tell her that you found her manuscript. That you found a publisher behind my back.”
“Dimi.”
“Whatever you do, do not tell her it was me. Understand?”
He pauses. I know what question is coming. “Why don’t you just tell her that you’re sorry? That you want to make it up to her?”
I wince as my heart throbs. “She doesn’t love me anymore, Javier. I made sure of that. I’ve caused her so much pain. I don’t want to cause her any more. The best thing I can do for her is to never let her see me again.” I turn towards the window and look out across the lonely moors, now drained of colour. “No amount of sorrys will ever redeem me for what I did to her. She deserves to be happy. I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens. I just…I can’t let her know. She’s so damn stubborn.” Despite my pain, I smile. “She’ll never accept my help if she knows it’s from me.”
“But wouldn’t—?”
I slam my fist on the desk. “I don’t pay you to question me, dammit, just fucking do it.”
Javier’s only reaction to my outburst is to smirk at me. “Actually, I think you do pay me to question you.”
I let out a groan. “Well, don’t. Not with this. Please.”
Javier studies me for a long moment. The bastard always thinks he’s so clever, reading into all the things I do.
Before I shout at him to fuck off, he nods. “Consider it done.” He heads to the door, manuscript in hand.
“And Javier?” I call after him.
“Yes?”
“Make the necessary preparations for us to move.” I turn to watch the wind playing across the moors, my thumb still playing with Alena’s fingerprint ink stain. “I can’t bear to live here anymore.”
64
____________
Alena
A few days later…
I walk alone along the road from school to our cottage. This way is longer but I like taking this route home because it’s more scenic. It has nothing to do with the fact that it passes by the low brick wall that runs along one side of Worthington Manor. Nothing. I don’t care to see Dimitri again. I just…like to check on the manor. To make sure he hasn’t burned it down in all his rage.
I stop today at the wall near the top of a small hill. From here I am mostly hidden. I can see the front of the massive building, the driveway, and the road that the driveway turns onto. I frown. The windows of the manor look dark. All the curtains have been drawn. There’s a cluster of cars in the circular driveway and people swarming about. I squint, trying to make out what they are doing. Two familiar figures step out of the front door. I would recognise Dimitri’s figure anywhere. The other must be Javier.
I gasp and duck behind the wall. Stupid, Alena. He can’t see you from there. Why did you duck?
I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt and slowly stand. He’s gone. Where did he go? The car in the front of the convoy sets off down the driveway. The other cars are still there. They’re packing up the cars full of suitcases and boxes.
The first car is now almost to the end of the driveway. Dimitri is in there, I know it.
He’s leaving. Dimitri is leaving.
No. Before I realise what I’m doing, I’m running. I’m running for my life towards the road. My heart thunders in my ears, my legs scream with effort. I’m not sure why I’m running, I just know if I don’t, I will regret it.
I’m almost at the small gate that separates the school grounds and the road. I’m almost—
The black car flies past, Dimitri in the back seat. I see him.
He doesn’t see me.
He doesn’t hear me either as I scream for him to stop! Because he doesn’t stop.
I scrape my hands on the low brick wall separating us. I tear my skirts climbing over. As I tumble to the gravel road on the other side, the back of Dimitri’s vehicle disappears around the bend.
I’m hit with shock and not just from my fall.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to get to the road before he passed. He was supposed to see me. I was supposed to stop him
from leaving, he would confess that he’d been a fool, like in all great love stories.
You silly romantic, Alena, you naïve dreamer. Life isn’t like your novels.
That’s it, then. He’s really gone.
This thin thread of hope that I’ve clung to snaps. Dimitri—the Dimitri I love—won’t find a way to fight out of the rubble of his anger and come back to me. He gave up. He’s gone.
It’s over.
It’s really over.
I collapse to my hands and knees as my body overflows with repressed anguish, painful regret spilling out as tears into the dirt. How can a heart hold this much pain and still keep beating?
65
____________
Alena
Three months later…
I still think of Dimitri every day. The sharp pain of his loss has dulled to a throbbing ache. Hopefully over time it will dull further. Perhaps dull enough so that one day, I can go without thinking about him. I still miss the old Dimitri, the one I used to know. But I no longer cling to my naïve hopes of our two souls finding our way back to each other.
Worthington Manor is all closed up. Dimitri hasn’t been back since that day I saw him drive away. I wonder if he has gone back to America. I wonder if he’s happy. I hope so.
Emily, Edgar, and I have moved into a larger two-bedroom cottage in the village nearby. I still share a room with Emily but at least the space is bigger. She has begun working at the local café.
Edgar has stopped drinking. He’s trying to put together a business deal with an old friend who contacted him out of the blue. We have a strange, amiable relationship now but no sex.
I am finally taking responsibility for myself. I don’t earn much through my administration job but I’m putting money aside. My goal is to save up enough money to convince my husband to let me out of my contract. I know a hundred thousand pounds is a lot. I’m hoping he’ll take less. Besides, I must have a goal to keep me getting up every morning.
This evening, I am at home alone. Emily is working. Edgar is meeting up with this old contact of his. I get a knock on my door. It must be Richard. He’s the only one who stops in here for me.
I fling open the door without checking through the peephole. I blink rapidly when I see it is not Richard on my doorstep.
“Javier!” Dimitri’s right-hand man smiles at me from my doorstep. He’s wearing a dark brown suit, his hair longer than the last time I saw him. I look past him, my heart skipping a beat. There’s no Dimitri to be found. I clear my throat and smile. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s good to see you again.” He looks past me. “May I come in?”
I step aside for him. He enters the tiny living room. It’s not even the size of my old bedroom, and barely a quarter as grand, but I pay rent for it so my chin remains lifted. “It’s not as nice as what you’re used to living in, but…”
Javier turns on his heel towards me, no judgement on his face. “Trust me, what I am used to…this would be considered a palace.”
My curiosity fusses inside me. Why is he here? I study Javier, standing there with his hands folded behind his back, a twinkle in his eye. I’m not sure whether I should be scared or hopeful. Did…Dimitri send him?
“You’re wondering why I’m here,” he says.
I nod. “I thought you had left England,” I say, hoping for a hint at where Dimitri might be living now.
“I did. I’ve been in America. I’m just back for a few days on business.”
Of course, they’re living back in America. The only reason Dimitri came to England was to ruin me, and he did that.
I let out a nervous laugh. “What business does Dimitri still have with me?”
Javier gives me a sad look. “I’m afraid I've come here of my own volition. He…doesn’t know that I’m here.”
Javier doesn’t even dare to say his name in front of me, as if it might cause me to have a breakdown. Well, I won’t have anything of the sort. “Oh. Right.” I sniff. Why would I care whether Dimitri sent him or not?
“Before I give you the good news, I first need to beg your forgiveness.”
“My forgiveness? For what?”
“When we were packing up the manor, I…I found your study. Your manuscript.”
My cheeks burn. I had only remembered my writings after I left the mansion. I couldn’t bear the idea of turning back and begging Dimitri for them. He would only use it as a way to hurt me, probably tearing the pages to shreds or burning them in front of me.
“Did you come to return it?” I frown. He doesn’t have my manuscript with him. Just a small envelope I hadn’t noticed he was holding before.
“Something… hopefully even better.” He hands me the envelope.
It has my name on the front. “What’s this?” I open it and take out the single sheet of paper inside.
“I thought your manuscript was…inspired. I took the liberty of …” The rest of his words go fuzzy as I read over the first line of the letter.
Dear Alena,
We happily offer you a publishing contract for your book, Beautiful Revenge.
The rest of the letter turns into a pool of white and black. My mouth goes dry. My heart hammers in my ears. This is not possible.
I look up to Javier. He has a broad expectant smile on his face. Could he be so cruel as to manufacture a joke like this?
I am almost terrified to ask. “Is this…real?”
“Very real.”
“I can’t… You…” Words fail me. I do the only thing I can. I throw myself into his arms.
He laughs even as I nearly squeeze the life out of him. “You deserve it, Alena.”
I pull back from him, wiping under my eyes. “Oh, Javier, you are the most wonderful man. I can’t believe you would do this for me.”
He shuffles uncomfortably. There’s a sliver of guilt in his eyes. Some whole truth not told.
“Or did Dimitri…?” My voice cracks a little at his name.
“He doesn’t know,” Javier says. “I did this behind his back.”
I sag a little. That’s why Javier looked guilty. He is hiding this from Dimitri. “Are his businesses going well? No, I don’t care about that. Is he okay? I mean, is he still angry? Is he…happy?”
Javier tilts his head. “He has found…a kind of peace.”
I nod, sadness welling up inside me. Dimitri was the first person I ever told about my dream to be a writer. He was the first person I ever let read my writing and the first to encourage me. I wish more than anything that he could be the first person I told. He would understand just how much this means to me.
I brush off this sadness. I can’t dwell on the past. I’m going to be published. I am going to be a writer!
Tears of happiness rim my eyes again. I press the offer letter to my chest. “Thank you, Javier, from the bottom and the top and all the widths of my heart, thank you.”
He grins. “You’re welcome. But you haven’t read the best bit.”
“What bit?” I snatch the paper from my chest, holding it out so I can read it again.
Javier laughs. “The bit about your advance.”
My eyes scan the page. I find it…that magical number…
Holy shit.
A week later, my publishing contract is signed. Tonight, Emily is out with a friend she’s made from work. I’m home alone with Edgar. I knock on his bedroom door and enter when he calls for me to come in. I hold two very important pieces of paper in my hands.
He’s sitting at his cramped desk shoved in the corner of his tiny bedroom. “Oh, Alena,” he says when he sees it’s me. His eyes are twinkling with more life than I’ve seen in them for months. “I have such news to tell you.”
“Of course, Edgar, but me first.”
I hand him the divorce papers I had drawn up and he lowers his reading glasses onto his nose. “You and I have never been in love,” I start to say what I spent hours preparing. “I think we owe it to each other to find someone who can make us happ
y.”
Edgar lowers the divorce papers and opens his mouth.
“Please let me finish,” I say, before he can interrupt. “I know that I haven’t fulfilled the terms of my marriage contract. I’m offering to buy you out.” I take a deep breath and hand over the second piece of paper—a check for the amount he paid for me.
A hundred thousand pounds.
His mouth drops open. “Alena… how…?”
“It’s the exact amount of my publishing advance,” I say quietly. I still have my job in administration, this cottage is cheap. I can support Emily and me until the royalties come in. Besides, this is just the beginning. For the first time in a long time I have more ideas for future books than I have in a long time.
He blinks at me. “I can’t take your money.”
Oh God. He won’t let me out of my contract. “But, I—”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “I won’t take your money. But I will sign the divorce papers.”
My mouth pops open and shut as I struggle for words. “W-why?”
Edgar smiles. “It’s what I was going to tell you. I just agreed to a deal with an old business partner. I’m back in business, baby.”
I smile, then laugh, because sometimes life is magical. Sometimes wishes can be bought with the light of the stars. And dreams become more than mist and smoke.
We hug. “Congratulations, Edgar.”
“And to you too.”
I pull back. For a moment we stand awkwardly in front of each other, two ex-partners, amicably split. If only all relationships could end this well. I think about how things ended with Dimitri and me. My heart lets out a mewl.
“I was never a good husband,” Edgar says quietly.
“No, you weren’t,” I say truthfully, no malice in my voice. “But it’s not too late to be a good father.”
He nods.
He places the papers on the desk and signs at the bottom with a flourish. Then he hands them to me. “Happy divorce day, my dear.”
