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She stepped toward me, her eyes glinting with malice. "Gennady needs a woman who gets his world, not some naive little girl. You should be glad you learned the truth in time."

"Ginnie." Gennady's voice was a warning growl, his eyes never leaving mine. "Shut up."

"Why?" She spun to him, smirking. "Did I say something wrong? She deserves to know who she's been sleeping with."

Her words were knives, each one sinking deeper. "Tell me, Cassie," she said, her voice venomous, "what's it like, knowing the man you've been screwing every night is the son of the guy who killed your dad?"

The words sliced into me. I looked at Gennady, his face pale, his eyes drowning in pain.

"Enough!" he roared, storming toward Ginnie. "I warned you!"

He stepped between us, shielding me, like he was still trying to protect me, even now.

That gesture made my heart twist. He was still the man who'd fight the world for me, who'd put himself between me and danger.

But it only made this hurt worse.

"Gennady." My voice broke. "Don't."

He turned to me, his eyes so full of pain it stole my breath. "Cassie, please." His voice trembled. "Give me a chance to explain. Don't go."

I looked at him, the man I loved. I wanted to forgive him, to erase everything, to fall back into his arms. But I couldn't.

"Explain what?" Tears streamed down my face. "How your father killed mine? How you could love the daughter of the man he murdered?"

"I didn't know!" His voice was raw with desperation. "I didn't know it was your father! I knew nothing!"

"But you saw it!" I was nearly screaming, my voice breaking. "You saw a father's life taken!"

"Yes!" he admitted, his eyes brimming with agony. "I saw it! I've lived with that guilt every day! But Cassie, I love you! I love you more than my own life!"

His words shattered me. I felt his sincerity, his pain, and it made everything so much harder, so much worse.

"I know," I whispered, tears falling endlessly. "I know you love me. That's why this hurts so much."

I dragged the suitcase toward the door, each step carving a fresh wound in my heart.

"Cassie, don't go!" he shouted, his voice thick with desperation. "We can fix this! We can—"

"Some things can't be fixed," I said, stopping but not turning back, afraid I'd lose my nerve if I saw his face. "Some wounds are too deep to heal."

My voice cracked. "I love you, Gennady. I still love you. That's why I have to go. This love—it'll destroy me. It'll destroy—"

I almost said our child, but I caught myself. "Both of us," I finished.

I opened the door, and Chicago's November wind hit me like a slap.

"Goodbye, my love," I whispered, more to myself than him. "Goodbye."

I climbed into the car, glancing in the rearview mirror. He stood in the doorway, not chasing me, his eyes full of despair. My heart broke into a million pieces.

"Where to, miss?" the driver asked.

"Airport," I said, my voice trembling.

The car pulled away, his figure shrinking in the distance. My hand rested on my stomach, tears falling like rain.

"I'm sorry, baby," I thought. "Mommy has to take you away."