What Happens To Esther In The Endless Steppe: Growing Up In Siberia?

Ten years after my wealthy family took me back, I died in the rental house my billionaire parents had dumped me in. My son was three. Just to mess with me, the kidnapper gave me three chances to call for help. If even one person was willing to come see me, he'd spare my child. The first call was to my father, the man who'd spent fifteen years searching for me. He was busy directing the staff as they set up my adoptive sister's birthday party. When he picked up, he barked, "Estelle Emerson, seriously? Can you go one week without causing a scene? It's your sister's birthday. I'm busy. Don't kill the vibe." The second call was to my mother, the woman who brought me home and changed my name from Dixie to Estelle. But Vera snatched the phone and laughed so hard she could barely get the words out. "Estelle, seriously? If you're gonna make something up, at least make it believable. You look so broke you probably don't even have fifty bucks. What kidnapper would pick you?" The third time, I called Luca's father, my legal husband. He said he was in a meeting and didn't have time to play games with me. He also said that if I behaved myself, he'd agree to take me home for dinner next week. After the final call ended, I looked at the grinning kidnapper in despair and sent the last two messages of my life. A photo of myself covered in blood. And a short message, every word sincere. [I'm really going to die. In my next life, don't bring me home.]

BLURB “Unchain me.” I say through gritted teeth as I glare angrily at Dimitri. “You know what I want to hear, Malyshka.” Dimitri growls, leaning into me and effectively invading my personal space. “I will never, ever submit to you, nor will I ever call you master.” I say angrily. I lean farther back in the bed, wishing I could become one with the headboard if only to escape Dimitri's ruthless glare. “Challenge accepted, Malyshka. Never say never.” Dimitri says with a self assured smirk I have a strong desire to wipe off his face. —————————— Finding out that the man she loved and was pregnant for already had a wife was the most devastating thing that happened to the young and soft hearted Anya. With Dimitri's betrayal fresh in her mind, Anya escapes with her unborn child with the help of Dimitri's sworn enemy. With the intention of leaving her past behind and starting a new life, Anya forms an alliance with Dimitri's enemy. But Dimitri kidnaps her and her child and refuses to let them go. He would follow her to hell and back if it meant she would always be by his side. He bulldozes his way back into her life, refusing to let anything keep him away from his Anya. Not even Anya herself. She belongs to him. Always and forever. Checkmate, baby girl.

For our graduation trip, the three of us traveled to Iceland to watch the aurora borealis. During the trek, my best friend Chloe Bennett’s scarf was swept away by the howling wind. Without a second thought, my boyfriend Valen Vance stripped off his own heavy scarf and wrapped her up tight in it. Turning to me, he said, “Hurry up and help Chloe fetch it. You know that’s her favorite scarf.” I braved the biting, freezing wind alone, chasing it for a long time. By the time I finally retrieved the scarf and turned around, the northern lights had already vanished from the sky—and Valen and Chloe were no longer where I left them. My phone buzzed with a text from him: “You were taking too long. Chloe is afraid of the cold, so I brought her back to the hotel first.” Stranded in a foreign country, I stood at the crossroad for six grueling hours, waving down over twenty passing cars. Finally, someone took pity on me and gave me a ride. When I stumbled back into the hotel well past midnight, shivering and entirely frozen to the bone, I found them curled up under a thick blanket, huddled close together as they looked over the photos they had taken that day. They were laughing and chatting about photography and the northern lights—a conversation I was permanently locked out of. Noticing me, Valen merely frowned. “What took you so long? I made a mug of hot tea for you over there. Go warm yourself up.” I wrapped my numb fingers around the mug. The tea inside had gone ice-cold hours ago. At that moment, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion settled deep into my chest. Fine, then. I booked the earliest flight out, canceled the rest of our hotel reservations, and decided right then to leave. The northern lights I spent a lifetime chasing were never meant for me. There was no need to chase them anymore.

There are no grown men in our village. When girls turn 18, they participate in a coming-of-age ceremony in the ancestral hall. Dressed in ceremonial clothes, they line up to enter, and when they come out, their faces show a mix of pain and joy. When my eldest sister turned 18, Grandma forbade her from attending. However, one night, she snuck into the hall. When she came out, she was limping, and blood was dripping between her legs.

The day we moved into our new house and my adopted sister took my bedroom, I decided to leave. That morning, Mom posted the floor plan in our family group chat. There were three bedrooms. One for my parents. One for my older brother. And the largest, sunniest room was labeled Sophie’s Room. My name was nowhere on the plan. Ten years earlier, Sophie’s father had drowned while trying to save my brother. Since then, my family had treated every sacrifice as something I owed her. When I asked where I was supposed to sleep, Mom barely hesitated. “You’ll leave for graduate school soon. Giving you a bedroom would be a waste.” Then she turned back to Sophie and helped her choose pink curtains. My brother carried in her new furniture. My boyfriend of three years built her bookshelf. I sat on a moving box and finally understood. They had not forgotten me. They had decided that Sophie deserved my room, my family, and even the man who was supposed to love me. Since they had already decided there was no place for me in this family, I decided to leave them exactly what they wanted. I opened the classified research contract on my phone and signed it. Ten years. No visits home. In ten days, I would disappear from their lives for good.

My wife, Elena Shaw, brought home a baby girl and told me she was the orphaned daughter of a distant cousin. She asked me to raise her as my own. However, I knew the truth — the girl’s biological father was the man who killed my father. I wanted to throw her out. Then, Elena showed me a single photograph. The moment I saw it, I accepted the child without another word. For twelve years, I washed her clothes, cooked her meals and sent her to an elite private school. I never scolded her, even when she pointed at me and called me a pathetic coward. Our relatives all said that I had lost my mind. Then, on her thirteenth birthday, Elena asked me to sign over my shares of the company. My mother fell to her knees and begged me not to sign, but I simply smiled and took out that same photograph. She looked at it only once before pressing her thumbprint onto the document herself. The entire room erupted into chaos.