He shuffles on his feet. He’s wearing his beard longer now. Annoyingly, it suits him. It gives him a kind of maturity, a gravitas that he lacked before.

But I’ve seen the man behind the beard. I’ve trusted that man. I’ve been burned by that man.

“I wasn’t the greatest boyfriend to you, was I?” he asks unexpectedly.

“No,” I tell him quietly as I slump back down to a seat. “You weren’t.”

He nods. Then he moves to the bench and sits down next to me. “I was so caught up in everything that was going on with my brother. I neglected you a lot.”

“You’re sticking to that story?”

He sighs and passes a hand over his tired face. “It’s not a story, June. It’s the truth. Kolya can be very charming when he wants to be, but he’s a bully. A bully with a fuck ton of power and money.”

I remember the home video that I stumbled upon when I’d first been brought to the mansion. I watched as Kolya attacked Adrian on his father’s orders. Beating a helpless little boy again and again as he screamed for mercy.

Kolya made me believe that he stopped listening to his father and started protecting Adrian. But now, I find myself questioning his story. Is it possible that Kolya skewed the narrative to make me think better of him?

Was he just manipulating me then?

Or is Adrian manipulating me now?

Where do the lies stop? Where does the truth begin?

“I’m repeating myself because you don’t seem to believe me.” He leans back and exhales. “We need to figure this out. We’re having a baby together, June.”

“I’m aware of that, Adrian. I have been for a lot longer than you.”

“If I’d known—”

“You wouldn’t have faked your death!” I practically yell, drowning him out, and getting to my feet. “Yeah, I know! You told me. I’m not interested in hearing it all again.”

A vein in his temple throbs. He looks down at his hands clasped tightly together in his lap. I follow his gaze, and when I do, I frown.

“You still wear it,” I whisper. “The ring. Why do you insist on wearing it?”

His voice is hollow when he answers, but he doesn’t look at me. “It’s a symbol of the world I left behind. It reminds me why I can never go back. Why I don’t want to go back.”

I get up once again and pace over to the wall, where I lean against it with my arms crossed and my eyes closed. Behind me, the laundry machine chugs along merrily. It’s a gross contrast to the tension in the air.

“Why don’t you sit down, June?”

“I’m fine right here,” I say sharply. “Tell me: all those nights you said you were ‘out with friends’ or ‘practicing’ by yourself… what were you really doing?”

“I was—”

“Don’t lie to me, Adrian,” I say firmly the moment I sense that he’s about to feed me one.