Chapter Eighteen: Game Over

Irina glanced at her watch, a contented smile spreading over her face. Any minute now, the minister ought to be pronouncing that her daughter and Michael were now Mr. and Mrs. Michael Vaughn. She had asked Sydney to call when the ceremony was completed, but God knew how those things went. Newlyweds in a tropical paradise. They wouldn't have to have much imagination at all to find something to distract them from calling the bride's mother.

The engagement party had been lovely. Sydney had worn a fabulous little black dress, and Michael had been dashing in a perfectly cut tuxedo. Everyone who was anyone in Irina's organization had toasted the happy couple, and then they had danced until it was time for Sydney and Michael to leave for the airport. Both of them had hugged Irina and thanked her for the party, but there had been a fear in their eyes that Irina had found hilarious. Both of them had looked at her that way the entire week-- like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well, they were fools, both of them, if they thought Irina had any interest in stopping their little wedding. Oh, she hadn't loved the idea of their marriage at first, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that things couldn't have worked out any better if she'd planned them herself.

Yes, she'd been foolish, too. She'd thought luring Michael into bed with Brooke would be a good way to control him? Please. If you wanted to control a man, you didn't give him one night of pleasure with a beautiful woman and threaten to tell his girlfriend about it. No, if you wanted to control a man, you simply stayed out of it.

You stayed out of it and you watched as he became engaged to the woman he loved. You wished him and his bride-to-be well. Threw the happy couple a party and gave them enough money for the wedding and honeymoon of their dreams.

Later, you'll suggest they move out of your headquarters. Tell them you've found them a beautiful house with a white picket fence. You'll watch as they pack their belongings and buy furniture and move into their new home. Always with the fear in their eyes. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

What the happy couple didn't know was, it already had. Because you've given them something they've craved more than anything else in the world. Not each other's love-- no, they already had that. You've given them hope. Hope for a happy home with children and a dog and family dinners every night at seven.

Normalcy. Domesticity. Things you've known your daughter so desperately wanted since the day you saw the light in her eyes when she told you how she'd done Michael's shopping and made Michael's dinner and Michael Michael Michael. That was what Sydney had wanted. What Sydney had never dreamed her mother could deliver to her.

And when her mother did deliver, that was when she had control. Because Sydney had something to lose now. Something more than her soul, more than Michael's. She had a family and a husband and the life she'd always dreamed of.

And that was when the game ended. Turn the scoreboard off. Fans, go home to your happy lives. You don't want to play with Irina Derevko.

She's already won.

Game Over