“Some nights, I was gambling,” he admits. “Some nights, I was in bars drinking. Other nights—”

“You were terrorizing young women and selling them into prostitution?” I ask bluntly.

His eyes jerk to mine. There’s definite shock in his expression, but I’m not sure what to make of that. Is he shocked that I know, or is he shocked that I would accuse him of something so heinous?

Even as I make the accusation, I feel a shudder of uncertainty. What if I’m wrong? What if the man that Angela described to me was not Adrian?

“J-June…” he stammers. “How can you even think I would be capable of doing something like that?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “My own brother… I mean, shit. We’ve always had our differences. But I never thought he would stoop so low.”

I draw in a rattling breath. “So it’s not true?”

“Of course it’s not true! I would never hurt a woman.”

“You hurt me,” I remind him softly. “You hit me. You even left a mark. With that ring, as it so happens.”

He nods. “I remember.”

“Was that also part of your elaborate fake death plan?” I ask.

I hate how I sound—bitter and broken. But it’s what I feel. It’s what I am.

Adrian gulps. “I thought that if you… if you hated me at the end, it would be easier for you to process my death.”

“Ah,” I say with an effusive nod. “I get it. You were being kind when you slapped me across the face. How thoughtful. How fucking noble of you.”

He shakes his head. “I’m an asshole. Is that what you want me to say, June?” he asks. “I’m a worthless bastard who doesn’t deserve you. Never did. Never will.”

“I’m not trying to make you say anything, Adrian.”

He stands up and takes a step towards me. “This is torture for me,” he says. “Having you look at me like that. Like I’m a stranger.”

“You are a stranger.”

“Because my brother filled your head with lies about me—”

“Leave Kolya out of this!”

His eyes go wide before he schools his expression back to neutral. “I heard about the wedding,” he says softly. “I guess I assumed you were being forced into it. But now, I’m not so sure… Were you, June?”

If I avoid his eyes now, I’ll give myself away. So I square my shoulders and jerk my chin out in defiance.

“You’ve lost the right to ask me that question.”

That vein pulses again. His knuckles are white through his skin, his jaw clenched as hard as it can go. I can sense the storm about to break, about to unleash on me—

And then it just… doesn’t. He nods, and it all recedes back below the surface. Maybe it was never even there at all.

“You’re right.”

“Things can’t just go back to the way they were, Adrian,” I tell him with a painful swallow. “Not least of all because the way things were wasn’t healthy for either one of us.”