But he didn’t think it would come in such a way. He hadn’t thought it would rip his heart out like this and leave him gasping.
That it would wreak on him an avalanche of hurt and inadequacy and pain.
He had thought Dmitri uncharacteristically foolish to even indulge Alex Ralston’s demand to talk to Stavros. Yet, he had just disconnected the call with Alex, a video call that the thug had insisted on.
Nausea whirled in his gut at the things Alex had said about Calista. It was like hearing stories about a stranger, not his sister at all.
All he had known of Calista had been a front, a lie. A lie that had been neatly supported by Leah for so many years. Because Leah had known it all.
And in the sinking morass of his grief, that betrayal cut the deepest. Leah had known and hadn’t whispered a word to him. Even when he had asked it of her.
“Stavros?” Dmitri nudged him.
“Locate him, Dmitri.” He stood up with such force that the desk rattled. “He can’t go to the media with this. Theos, this is Calista... I don’t want her name besmirched like this.”
“I will stop him. Stavros...it’s not your fault. Calista...whatever Ralston told you about her, you couldn’t have known. You did everything you could to help her.”
“I should have known. All along, she had so many problems and I...” A growl escaped his throat.
“Have you ever thought that some of us are beyond help, Stavros? Too broken to be fixed? Giannis said she was just a child when your mother walked out. Whatever Calista needed, you didn’t have it.”
“She needed to be loved, Dmitri. And I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know how. Not then, not now.”
He was the one in pain, and yet Dmitri looked pale. He kept shaking his head as if he could see into Stavros’s head. “Her behavior is not your fault.”
“I wish I could forgive myself as easily as you, Dmitri,” he said, hating himself, hating Dmitri for being so understanding.
He couldn’t numb the gnawing in his gut as the truth solidified. He had never had what it took to begin with.
Was that why he had clung so tightly to doing what was right? Because he hadn’t possessed, hadn’t ever known, his heart?
Beneath Leah’s betrayal, beneath the shock of learning his sister’s truth, only one thing remained.
You are made of stone.
How right Leah had been... If he had ever known it once, he didn’t remember. He didn’t know if he had buried it deep so that his parents’ indifference, their negligence didn’t hurt.
He had never understood Calista, never saw past the facade his sister presented because he had never understood her fears, her pain, her joy. Every time she had mentioned their parents, every time she had expressed her confusion, he had only pushed her to move on, had brushed her away believing that they were better off without them.
Because he hadn’t wanted to dwell on it, because it would mean acknowledging all the wrongs they had done to them, it would mean letting them be a part of who they were.
Again and again, he had closed himself off to her grief, her pain. Until she had decided that he would never understand? Until she had decided, like Leah, that he didn’t have the capability to understand? The capability to love?
In the end, his parents had robbed him of everything.
Even if he forgave Leah’s lies, what did he possess to give her? How long before she would realize the truth? How long before she realized that he had never known and would never understand love?
That he would never know how to give it and take it.
It was two hours before Stavros returned to their suite, two hours in which Leah had become half-crazy wondering what was going on. One look in his eyes, and her heart skidded to her gut.
“Pack your bags. You’re catching a flight to New York in a few hours.”
“What? The fashion week isn’t for another fortnight...”
He stood only a foot away, yet it could have been a thousand miles. Why wouldn’t he look at her?
“It is better for you in New York rather than here with Ralston around. Apparently, he’s very much interested in hearing how I’ve mistreated you.”
“But all my stuff is...” She stopped, his words slowly registering with her.