Page 162 of His Darkest Obsession
The pieces slot together with horrifying clarity. Amara's panicked call after the gala. Her telling me about the men following her.
I'd assumed it was Bennet's people or Valentina.
But it was Lola.
Amara was followed because she was looking for me.
My sister was in danger because of me.
I'm so sorry, Amara. I'm so, so sorry.
The familiar guilt floods my chest—the same crushing weight I've carried since that summer internship two years ago. I thought I was protecting Amara by keeping her at a distance from all this, but instead, I put a target on her back.
She wouldn't have been looking for me if I'd just told her the truth from the beginning. I should've warned her properly on that first phone call.
"And after I saw you at the gala," Lola continued. "I kept wondering. Just what it is about you that made my Tolya choose you over me."
Maybe it's the fact that I'm not a psycho bitch!
"So much so," she keeps talking. "That he put his fucking baby in your belly."
What?
How? How does she know that? Howcanshe know that? The only people who might know are Svetlana and Amara, and I know neither of them would've told.
As if she can read my thoughts, Lola reaches into her purse and pulls out a crumpled receipt, holding it between two perfectly manicured fingers.
"Four pregnancy tests. Must have been desperate."
The café bathroom. The trash can. We didn't think?—
Lola leans forward, her face inches from mine, and her smile grows wider.
"So here's what's going to happen, Amelia. Iwillget what I want: Anatoly ismyhusband. As he was always meant to be." Her voice drops to a whisper. "And if not."
She glances over at Grisha. “Pretty girls like Amara will always fetch a good price.”
Something snaps inside me. "You're sick!" I scream, lunging at her. "You're fucking sick!"
Lola doesn't even flinch as she closes her hand around my throat and slams me against the door of the car.
"I'm sick?" she hisses. "That's rich coming from the whore who stole my husband."
"I won't let you hurt my sister." I struggle against her grip. "I swear to God, if you touch her?—"
"I thought you might say that. Which is why I'm going to make this easier for you."
She extends her hand, and Grisha starts rummaging through her purse. A few seconds later, he pulls out a small orange box, and places it in Lola's hand.
Her green eyes drill into mine, and I can practically taste the malice dripping from them as she shakes the box in front of me.
"You recognize this, don't you?"
My blood turns to ice when I see what it is. I do recognize it.
Mifeprex.
The last time I saw it was two years ago.
