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FIFTY-EIGHT: FIred
publish date:
2026-06-25 23:59:35
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Her Neglected Scars FIFTY-NINE: At the Cost of Another's
The two massive guards instantly step into the clinic, their thick, heavy hands clamping down like vices onto the old doctor’s frail shoulders.The old man looks completely terrified, his bottom lip trembling as they begin to forcefully drag his stumbling frame toward the open door.Panic spikes in my chest, hot, wild, and utterly overwhelming.Fired.He’s losing his entire life’s work, his profession, his status—all because I am a coward who can’t face a medical checkup.The crushing weight of guilt is too much to bear.My father raised me to be a tool to destroy men, but I have never wanted to be a monster who ruins innocent people just to protect my own skin.I can’t let another person suffer because of the filthy secrets carried on my back.“No! Stop! Wait!” I shriek, lunging forward out of the corner, my hands reaching out toward Konstantin before my brain can stop me.I grip his thick forearm, the muscle beneath his tailored sleeve as hard and unyielding as solid granite.“Don’t
Her Neglected Scars FIFTY-EIGHT: FIred
The silver medical shears in the doctor’s hand gleam under the harsh fluorescent lights of the east wing clinic.The air here is thick with the chemical burn of rubbing alcohol and the damp, heavy scent of wet wool from Konstantin’s coat, which is still slouched over my trembling shoulders.Every single time I take a breath, the thick white paper covering the examination table crinkles loudly beneath me reminding me of just how trapped I am.The old Morozov family doctor steps closer.He stops right in front of me, adjusting the silver frames of his glasses as his trained eyes scan my face.He has that look—the analytical, overly observant gaze of a physician who spends his life looking at human wreckage and spotting the lies people tell to cover it up.My stomach twists into a hard knot, pulse hammering so violently against my ribs that I’m certain he can see the fabric of my shirt vibrating.He raises a gloved hand, his fingers extending toward the collar of the heavy wool coat, int
Her Neglected Scars FIFTY-SEVEN: The Family Doctor
Before I can even process the small, humorous victory, Konstantin lifts me effortlessly off the ground.I let out a sharp gasp as he hauls my body up onto Z’ver’s saddle, settling me firmly in front of him.He mounts the stallion behind me in one smooth, powerful motion, his chest pressing flush against my back.His massive arms come around either side of my waist to take the reins, effectively trapping me within the heavy, radiating heat of his body.Shit.As the horse shifts, the proximity makes my heart hammer violently against my ribs.I’m completely surrounded by his scent—rain, cedar, and the sharp copper tang of blood.I try to shift forward, trying to create even an inch of space between my back and his chest.“Stop moving so much,” Konstantin commands rough and low, his breath hot against my ear.“You’re going to fall off the fucking horse.”I freeze, my hands gripping the pommel of the saddle so tightly my knuckles turn white.“I’m fine,” I mutter, staring straight ahead at
Her Neglected Scars FIFTY-SIX: My Wife
“Konstantin?!”The screech cuts through the morning fog right outside the cave entrance.My eyes snap open, the gray morning light filtering through the damp rocks and hitting my face.My heart drops straight into my stomach, pure dread freezing the blood in my veins.Irina.I scramble immediately, my limbs tangling in Konstantin’s massive wool coat.The frantic movement sends a burning jolt of agony straight up my spine where the raw whip marks scrape against the rough stone floor.I choke back a gasp, my face flushing hot as I try to push myself away from him.“R-rescue . . .”“The rescue is here,” I stammer, my voice cracking as I shove against his solid, bare chest.But Konstantin doesn’t even open his eyes.He lets out a low, gravelly groan that vibrates right against my front, his heavy arm tightening as a steel band around my waist.“Five more minutes, brat,” he mutters, thick with sleep, dragging my small body forcefully back down into the dirt and right against his radiating
Her Neglected Scars FIFTY-FIVE: The Cave
My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird.I can’t let him see.If he forces me to take off this shirt, if he sees the raw, jagged tracks Sofia left across my skin—and the older, faded silver scars my brother Caesar carved into me years ago—the carefully curated lie of the perfect, adored Bennington princess will be obliterated.He’ll see exactly how broken I am.He’ll see I’m nothing but a thoroughly discarded tool.“I . . . I scraped myself,” I lie quickly, forcing my voice to sound casual, even though my hands are trembling beneath the heavy wool.I quickly avert my eyes, staring at his wet collarbone to avoid his suffocating gaze.“When the horse bolted into the thicket. I got thrown off, and the low branches caught my back. It looks worse than it is.”Konstantin doesn’t move.He stands perfectly still in the middle of the pouring rain, staring down at me with an intensity that feels like a physical weight pressing against my chest.The silence stretches between us.I c
Her Neglected Scars FIFTY-FOUR: Soaked In The Rain
I brace for the impact, my eyes clamped shut so hard.The scream tearing from my throat sounds more like a wounded animal than a human being.I prepare myself for the crushing weight of the silver-grey beast, for the tearing of flesh and the absolute certainty of teeth sinking into my throat on the frozen Russian dirt.Instead, a wet, sickening thwack echoes through the dark woods.A hot explosion of liquid hits my face.It sprays across my cheeks, my closed eyelids, and the exposed skin of my neck.The unmistakable copper stench of fresh blood immediately fills my nostrils and my scream dies in a choked gasp.I open my eyes, blindly wiping a trembling hand across my face to clear my vision.My palm comes away dripping in dark, hot crimson.The massive wolf isn’t tearing into my chest.It crashes heavily onto the earth beside me, its towering wall of silver-grey fur convulsing in violent, erratic spasms.A deep, jagged gash splits its throat entirely open, hot blood bubbling out in fr
Her Neglected Scars FORTY TWO: The New Hell
“I can’t wait to serve you.”Sofia’s voice crawls over my skin, thick and fake. I freeze on the concrete steps. The biting Russian air hits my face, but inside, I am completely numb. The ground feels like it’s tilting beneath my boots. I stare at the crisp, perfectly tailored grey uniform she is we
Her Neglected Scars FORTY: She Planned It
I say sorry.That’s the first thing I do. The words come out before my brain even catches up. “Sorry, excuse me, I’m so sorry,” and I’m already moving, already pulling my dress back into place with fingers that are completely, totally steady, because they have to be. Because the alternative is let
Her Neglected Scars THIRTY-NINE: Galina, The Seamstress
The thing about almost-things is that they’re worse than nothing.Nothing, you can handle. Nothing is familiar. Nothing is just Tuesday in the Morozov estate, same as every other Tuesday—cold floors, colder people, and me pretending I don’t notice either. But almost-things? Almost-things leave a r
Her Neglected Scars THIRTY-SEVEN: Ugly Caricatures
The fireworks are still cracking in the sky behind me, but the world’s gone dim.It’s as someone shoved me out of the spotlight mid-scene. And handed Irene the mic.She stumbles closer, all dainty steps and calculated breathlessness, clutching her phone like it’s her grandma’s ashes.“I was feeling
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