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It’s a stupid thought, but I hold on to it because the alternative is standing in Lily Harrington’s hallway while waiting for him to arrive and decide what to do with me.

Irina keeps pacing near the dining room entrance, phone in hand, face tight with panic she is trying to turn into outrage.

“I cannot believe this,” she mutters. “I actually cannot believe this.”

“You’ve said that already.”

She turns on me. “Don’t start with me.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying repetition won’t make it less true.”

“You lied to me.”

“Yes.”

“You let me think Nikolai knew.”

“Yes.”

“You hid his daughter in my car.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you going to say anything other than yes?”

“Probably not anything you’ll like.”

For a second, I think she might actually slap me, but there are too many parents nearby, and Irina seems like the kind of woman who would rather die than look uncontrolled in public.

Kirill is across the room, close enough to see Anya without standing over her shoulder. He has already checked the house, spoken to Mrs. Harrington to make sure there are no security lapses and given me a look that made it very clear I am not his favorite person today.

Anya notices almost none of it.

She is with Lily and two other girls from school, laughing over something near the cake table, her blue dress moving around her knees as she turns. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair ribbon is already slipping, and she looks happier than she has looked all week.

That’s the only thing keeping me upright.

I know I lied. I know I had no right to do it. I know Nikolai is going to make sure I understand every possible consequence before this day is over.

But I look at Anya laughing with her friends, and some stubborn part of me still thinks she needed this.

Nikolai arrives twenty minutes later.

The front door opens, and for a moment Mrs. Harrington stops speaking to one of the mothers beside her. I follow her gaze before I can stop myself.

He steps inside with Sergei behind him and another man carrying a wrapped gift in pale pink paper.

He’s furious, I know he is furious, and he still remembered Lily’s present because Anya would have been embarrassed if she arrived at a birthday party without one.

He goes straight to Kirill.

They speak near the hallway in low voices. Kirill keeps his hands in front of him and answers everything directly. I cannot hear most of it over the children yelling near the cake table, but I see Nikolai’s face while he listens. He is calm, which somehow makes me more nervous than if he had walked in angry.

Mrs. Harrington comes forward, smoothing her dress with both hands. “Mr. Volkov,” she says, a little too brightly.

Nikolai turns to her at once. “Mrs. Harrington. I apologize for the disturbance. Thank you for letting Anya stay.”

“Oh, of course,” she says. “The girls are very happy she could come.”