Page 13 of Broken Embers

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh and shake my head. “You both married Leonid Zorin?”

Yelena’s lips twitch, an attempt at humor so dry it almost scratches the air between us. “Obviously not at the same time. Even here in Russia, that is illegal. I was married to him first.”

My fingers tighten on the edge of the table as my mind spins, trying to piece together this twisted family tree. “So that makes my sister also my cousin,” I say, my brows lifting. “That’s… kind of fucked up.”

Yelena’s face hardens instantly. “I cannot believe my sister would tolerate such language from you or your sister,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain.

“My mother uses the same language, I assure you,” I shoot back dryly, loving the way disbelief flashes in her cold blue eyes.

“Never,” Yelena denies, shaking her head sharply. “My sister was a lady.”

“Then we’re really not talking about the same woman,” I murmur under my breath.

I lean back in the chair, the white scrubs feeling too tight around my shoulders. “Why did they leave Russia? Change their names? Was it because they allegedly stole Tara from you? Did you and my father have some vicious custody battle or something?”

Yelena’s hands fold more tightly, the knuckles whitening. “They fled to protect you and Lidiya. They fled because I told my sister what was about to happen… on the day you were born.”

“Me?” I echo, my heart thudding hard against my ribs.

She nods again—that fucking nod I’m already starting to hate—so calm, so certain.

Some twisted part of me wants her to shake her head just once, to tell me this is all a mistake. That someone’s going to jump out from behind a two-way mirror and yell,you’ve been punked!But the air is heavy with the kind of truth that can’t be unsaid.

“Okay,” I say, folding my arms. “I’ll bite. What was going to happen to me?”

Yelena leans forward slightly, her gaze sharpening. “We were working on a project,” she says carefully. “Your mother and I. A project that Lidiya was part of… from before birth.”

Cold spreads through my veins like black ice. “What kind of project?”

Her lips curve ever so slightly. “We’re geneticists working in a black ops site, Sabina. What kind do you think?”

“Mad scientist shit,” I say flatly, feeling my blood start to run cold.

“Breakthrough research,” Yelena corrects smoothly, “that could change the lives of many people.” She tilts her head, studying me. “And Lidiya was part of that… until Leonid and Carla stole her. They stole my Jewel.”

“How deeply was my sister involved in all this?” I ask, the bile rising thick in my throat.

“From the moment she was conceived,” Yelena says, her eyes softening slightly, as if remembering something precious. “She was perfect. Everything about her from the very beginning. She excelled at every developmental milestone. I knew… she was destined to become the new Jewel of Russia.”

My stomach turns over.

“Are you trying to make another Anya Novikov?” I ask, disbelief lacing my words. “The Jewel of Russia? The woman they call the most intelligent mind in the world?” I think my jaw must be hitting the floor right about now. “You’re trying to make a superhuman? You are a fucking mad scientist.”

Yelena’s face darkens. “She is not the jewel—she is not the jewel anymore,” she snaps, her control slipping for the first time. “Anya is washed up. My Jewel… My Lidiya… she is far greater.”

I sit back, stunned by the venom in her voice. Fuck, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was looking into the face of Dr. Frankenstein’s daughter.

“You must have witnessed it firsthand,” Yelena says, pulling the file from the bottom of her pile and opening it shuffling through papers that I can tell as school and college transcripts. Tara’s transcripts. “I couldn’t retrieve all of Lidiya’s records, but her grades. All a-pluses. Her debates, all the clubs she resided over, show how she was being so held back.” She turns some more pages before looking at me. “Didn’t your parents know she needed a school for the gifted. One that could push her to her full potential?”

“Tara didn’t want to go to a special school,” I say carefully, watching Yelena’s reaction. “She wanted to be normal. Have normal friends.”

“There is nothing normal about my Lidiya,” Yelena breathes, her face alight with an unsettling fervor. She flips open another folder and taps a document. “I just couldn’t find anything on her sports participation.” She looks at me questioningly. “What was she like at sports?”

“Tara didn’t do sports,” I tell her. “She hated them. I mean she does jogging, hiking, and Pilates to stay in shape but not team or any other sports you have to compete in.”

Yelena blinks, genuinely thrown. “I don’t understand.” Her brows knitted tightly together. “She was supposed to excel in every area of life,” she says, and I’m not sure if she is speaking to me or herself.

“She loved music,” I add, feeling a little thrown by how rattled the cool, poised Yelena is getting over Tara’s lack of physical prowess when it came to sport.

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