Page 9

They had Jay taken to a hospital. At least, that was what he assured me—the man of midnight and ice. The only man that dared to slap me across the cheek. Remembering it now, I patted the smooth skin. It didn’t sting then; it just momentarily left me stunned.

For all his ruthlessness and calculated cruelty, something in his voice told me he wasn’t lying about getting my brother the care he needed. It’d been a week since the scare, the car accident, and I’d learned to read him over the last few days. Though he was an evil man by anyone’s measure, I could sense a strange, unsettling honesty in his tone. At least I could be somewhat relieved for Jay; he was alive and was getting medical help.

Like the past few days, today, it rained. Unlike what we’d been used to, however, the shower was light, with no dark skies or thunder. Instead, it drizzled, with white, puffy clouds floating in the blue heavens above.

I stood in one of the guest rooms of Timur’s mansion, staring out the window at the vast estate sprawling below me. If I’d needed any verification to confirm the Russian’s untold wealth, the view before rendered such thought unnecessary. It was impossible to deny the beauty of the land, the long stretches of green fields and orderly gardens giving way to dense clusters of trees along the edge of the property. The horizon felt so far away here, as if this place existed in a world of its own, untouched by everything beyond its borders.

In the time that had passed, my mind had slowly begun to accept the new reality. No more David, Salome, or Angela. I no longer had my life. Strange that there was a calmness now, a sense of resignation settling over me, wrapping around the memories and dulled emotions that had once pulsed so strongly. Here I was, safe and isolated within his mansion’s grand, silent walls.

Both a cage and a refuge.

Because he’d left me no other choice, I accepted it for what it was.

But the weight of silence pressed down on me; my thoughts spiraled into darker and darker places. I couldn’t stop wondering: What would they do to me now? The question gnawed at the back of my mind, feeding off my fear and insecurities, each new thought more terrifying than the last.

Would they traffic me, selling me to the highest bidder like some faceless item on a black-market list? The thought made my stomach twist. Or maybe they’d shove me into some sleazy brothel, forcing me to work until I was drained of everything I had left to give. I wouldn’t put anything past that man.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the images that flooded my mind. The pit in my stomach grew heavier, as though it was filled with stones, each new terror weighing me down further. He’d mentioned something about harvesting organs.

Oh, my God.

What if they sold me off to some desperate buyer in need of a new heart or kidney?

While I would have loved to help a dying patient, there had to be another way.

My heart raced, pounding so loud that I could hear it echoing in the empty room, almost drowning out my thoughts.

I pressed a trembling hand over my mouth, trying to quiet the fearful whimpers that slipped through, but it was no use. I couldn’t shake the memory of the ice in his voice and broad shoulders or how dark he looked when he said those words, words that now haunted me like a curse.

“I own you now. You’re stuck with me for good.”

That phrase echoed over and over in my mind, wrapping around my thoughts like chains, binding me to fear. No matter how much I wanted to sleep, to escape even briefly into the quiet refuge of dreams, those words chased away any hint of rest. Every time my eyes began to close, they’d flash open again, wide and filled with the images of all the horrific possibilities that his promise implied. Sometimes, I didn’t know how long I lay there, trapped in that endless loop of fear, helplessness, and the suffocating dread that made sleep feel like an impossible luxury.

I was sitting by the window when a gentle knock came at the door. My heart skipped slightly. It wasn’t unusual to hear a knock around that time; typically, it was just the maid bringing up breakfast or fresh towels. But this knock was different—heavier, more calculated.

“Yes? Come in.”

The door creaked open, and an unfamiliar maid stood there. She wasn’t like the others; she had an air of experience, with silver strands threaded through her tight bun and a gaze sharp enough to command a room.

Looking at me intently, she offered a simple introduction: “I am Klavdia.” Her voice was low and calm, as if she were used to carrying secrets.

That was it. No, “What’s your name?” or anything else followed after. I nodded, unsure of what else to do, more out of reflex than anything, taken slightly aback.

Her eyes scanned the room briefly before she turned over her shoulder and called out, “Hurry up.”

I looked over my shoulder, particularly at the door where she poked her head through. This had to top the chart of another strange encounter I’d experienced. An older woman walked into my room and asked invisible people to hurry up.

Before I reacted, brief moments later, two more maids slipped into the room, almost soundlessly, like shadows gliding over the floor. They were each gripping the edge of a long, pristine white cloth, their steps careful and reverent. It took me a moment to process what I was seeing, but as the fabric unfurled, a stunning dress took shape.

A wedding dress.

I felt my breath hitch.

There it was, resting in their hands like a secret too big to be kept. Layers of delicate lace cascaded down the cloth, catching the light from the window and reflecting it in a soft, fairytale glow.

Klavdia handed me the dress, her gaze stern yet filled with an odd warmth. “Try it on,” she said, her voice brooking no argument. I hesitated, glancing at the folds of the fabric. The dress looked…expensive. Almost ceremonial, but that made no sense.

There was no way it was for me. No way.

A saw or experimental table would have been more like it, not a wedding dress.

“Why?” I asked, searching her face for clues.

Her lips tightened, and for a moment, she almost looked pained. Then, with the firmness of someone delivering a final verdict, she said in the thickest Russian accent I’d ever heard, “Because Mister Yezhov is marrying you.”

The words hung in the air, twisting around me until I barely recognized where I was.

Marrying me?

My head shook on its own, a reflex of sheer disbelief. I couldn’t have heard that. She’d probably said something else.

I blurted, my voice sounding smaller than it ever had, “You can’t be serious, ma’am—”

“Klavdia. That is my name.”

“Klav—look….” At the moment, I didn’t even have the patience to get her name out. My ears were ringing with the word marriage . “What do you mean, marrying me? How is that even possible?”

Mister Yezhov. Timur Yezhov. A man whose shadow seemed to swallow up light, whose eyes held more threat than kindness, was to be my husband?

“No,” I said louder, gathering what was left of my voice. “I can’t marry him. I won’t marry a monster.”

At my outburst, Klavdia’s expression shifted. Quicker than I could blink, she motioned to the other maids in the room, dismissing them with a subtle wave of her hand. I could hear their soft footfalls and whispers as they scurried out, the door clicking shut with an ominous finality.

Klavdia turned back to me, her face resolute. “That should never come out of your mouth again, especially not when others are around. They can twist things and get you into trouble.”

I clutched my chest, her words barely registering. I was hyperventilating.

Sighing, she stepped forward until her gaze met mine directly, the weight of her words heavy between us. “Serena,” she began, calling my name as if we’d known each other longer than a few minutes. Her voice was low, almost compassionate. Almost. “You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky?”

Did she say lucky? To marry a man who talked about harvesting organs like he talked about having breakfast?

“Do you know what it’s like for some girls like you? Do you know what it means to be sold off, discarded, or sent to work until they can’t work any longer?”

I tried to look away, but she caught my chin in her fingers, her grip gentle but unyielding, drawing my gaze to hers. “You are being married—respectfully, at that—to a man of means. Look around you.” She gestured to the grand room, the rich drapes, the chandeliers casting their warm glow, the heavy scent of perfume and polished wood. “This estate—every stone of it, every acre—will be yours. And you think this is a bad fate?”

Her words slid into me, filling the hollow left by my shock with a creeping dread.

Would this really be my life?

Freeing my chin from her grip, I sank into the chair, shoulders heaving as I pressed my fingers over my mouth, stifling the sobs that clawed their way out. “That man is…. He’s a cruel man, Klavdia,” I managed, my voice trembling as I searched her face for understanding, for someone to confirm the knot of fear tightening in my chest.

But she just watched me in that measured, intense way she had, her sharp eyes softened by some long-buried warmth. She took a step forward, moving closer, and placed her hand gently on my shoulder. Her touch was steady, grounding.

“I shouldn’t be saying this, but anyone who grew up as he did….” She paused, her gaze distant, perhaps seeing something only she could know. “He’s had to turn himself to stone to survive.”

I felt a tear slip down my cheek, but I couldn’t brush it away; her words wrapped around me, drawing me back to his cold stare, the hard line of his jaw, the way his face gave nothing away. The look in her eyes said she knew him, had known him for years—far longer than I had. She’d probably seen the harsh realities that shaped him, while I only saw the man I had been bound to without a choice.

“But if he truly meant to be cruel to you,” Klavdia’s voice softened further, a quiet assurance seeping into her words, “he wouldn’t have chosen you for this.”

She took my hands in hers, her grip firm. “Whatever you fear, know that he could have done far worse. There’s a part of him—small, perhaps, but real—that wouldn’t let him harm you as you think.”

Her words flooded into the spaces of my fears like rain, filling them with something, almost like hope.

She wasn’t dismissing the reality of Timur’s hardened exterior; she knew it intimately. But she was asking me to see beyond it, to try and trust that somewhere beneath the icy exterior, there might be a man who wouldn’t break me like I thought. She wanted me to understand that maybe, just maybe, he chose me because of something else.

Maybe a higher purpose, to serve as a sacrifice for something greater in the future.

The truth was, nobody really knew except the man himself

“But marriage is supposed to be based on love.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

The air in the room felt thick, pressing down around us as my eyes traced the floorboards. Each knot and grain felt like a promise I knew might never be kept.

This love…I hadn’t experienced it before. But I’d read about it, heard about it, and believed that it existed.

Klavdia didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched between us, settling into every corner, weighing as heavily as my doubt. I could feel the judgment in her silence, or perhaps it was sympathy—either way, her eyes stayed averted, fixed on a point just past my shoulder.

Finally, she broke the silence. Her voice was soft, the edge of regret threading through each word as though it cost her something to say it.

“You will have everything you want as his wife,” she murmured. “But you won’t have love.” She hesitated, letting the words land, and I felt them strike somewhere deep, an ache building in the hollow of my chest. “I’m sorry,” she added, almost too quietly, as if it might soften the blow.

I could only stare at her, searching her face for something to cling to—a spark of hope, a glimmer of some secret she hadn’t revealed. But there was nothing, only the resolute certainty of a truth she couldn’t change, one that I now had to decide whether I could live with.

“I own you now. You’re stuck with me for good.”

In the end, it didn’t matter whether or not I could. I’d surrendered. I’d taken my brother’s place.

Gazing at Klavdia, I sniffled, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Help me put on the dress, will you?”