Consumed by Deception (Deception Trilogy #3) - Rina Kent Page 0,5
she learns about everything, it will prepare her in case something happens.”
Yan holds him by the shoulder. “Fucking finally! That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”
I stare back at Lia. They think I’m doing this to keep her in the dark, when everything I’ve done was to protect her.
Her childhood wasn’t the best and I know how she feels about my world, so I’ve been trying my fucking hardest to keep her as far away from it as I can.
That, and I didn’t want her to meet my mother’s fate if her true identity is discovered.
I halt tapping my finger. “How about the other one?”
“The other one?” Yan frowns.
“The fake Lia.” I give him a glare. But on the bright side, even he couldn’t tell her apart from my Lenochka.
“Her name is Winter Cavanaugh, twenty-seven, American,” Kolya starts. “She’s been homeless for a few months after having a stillborn. The child’s father is unknown. She has an alcohol addiction and she comes from a lower-class background.”
“Is there more information about her parents?”
“Not really, but I’ll look further into it.”
“How about her medical condition?”
“She’s in a coma.”
“Keep her in the guest house until I figure out what to do with her. I don’t want Lia’s lookalike roaming the streets.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Lia’s fingers twitch in my hand and her eyes move beneath her lids before she slowly opens them.
“Call Dr. Putin,” I order, then lean forward as Kolya gets out of the room.
My wife blinks a few times, and as I witness life slowly creeping back into her, I make a vow to get her back, to make things right.
Somehow.
“Hey.” I stroke her chin and cheek. “How are you feeling, Lenochka?”
She stares at the ceiling, blinking slowly, but shows no signs of hearing me.
“Lia. I know you’re mad at me, but look at me.”
She doesn’t.
Instead, she’s limp, her numb expression making her blue eyes muted, almost like a haze has covered them.
“Lia,” I call again.
No sound or movement.
“There’s something wrong with her, Boss.” Yan is on the other side, watching the rapid rise of her heartbeat on the machine, which beeps at an alarming rate as she remains still, staring at nothing.
Her lips twitch and she releases a sound. I lean over to be able to hear her words. They’re low, haunted, and stab me straight in the fucking chest.
“Winter… My name is Winter…”
Then her eyes roll to the back of her head and she loses consciousness.
3
Adrian
Winter.
Lia said her name is Winter.
Not only that, but she also didn’t say anything beyond those five measly words. She’s been going in and out of consciousness for the past three days.
And when she comes to, she stares at nothing, not even acknowledging my—or anyone else’s—presence.
Dr. Putin said it’s purely mental at this point and that her bodily reaction is related to that.
I called in her shrink, or more accurately, I threatened her so she’d come to check on Lia. Dr. Taylor is a small brown woman with short black hair and an upright posture, who insisted on talking to my wife alone.
But that doesn’t stop me from watching through the glass window. Surprisingly, Lia is talking to the therapist, and she doesn’t seem to be repeating the fact that she’s Winter over and over again.
Kolya remains silent by my side after I send a grumbling Yan back home to look after Jeremy. I’ve had to go back for short intervals during the past few days to keep him company before putting him to sleep. He cried the first time I told him his mother had gone on a trip and would return for him soon. Then he refused to sleep anywhere but on my lap and in my company.
Jeremy has always been used to having his mother around, and I have no fucking clue how to ease him into the change of circumstances. For now, he needs to believe that she’s away and will come back.
Because she will come back.
Even if I have to threaten and coerce all the doctors and psychotherapists.
Dr. Taylor smiles at Lia, then walks to the window and pulls the shutters to block my view of them.
I’m about to barge inside, but I’m halted when the therapist steps out and closes the door behind her.
“Why did you do that?” I ask in a calm that’s laced with deep-seated anger.
The fact that Lia doesn’t talk to me, let alone recognize me, has been like being pricked by tiny needles. The sting isn’t sharp, but it’s constant and without reprieve.