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FORTY-SIX: Games and Distractions

Autor: Circeleari
last update Data de publicação: 2026-06-09 23:47:43

Dinner ends and nobody moves for exactly three seconds.

Leonid is already pushing his chair back.

Konstantin clears his throat, setting his stained wine glass down. Carlos takes that as his cue, offering a brief, formal nod before exiting the room with a thick stack of ledger documents tucked under his arm.

Konstantin shifts in his seat, as he glances down at his watch. Across the table, a maid steps forward from the shadows, her shoes clicking softly against the marble floor as she approaches
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  • Her Neglected Scars   FORTY-SIX: Games and Distractions

    Dinner ends and nobody moves for exactly three seconds.Leonid is already pushing his chair back.Konstantin clears his throat, setting his stained wine glass down. Carlos takes that as his cue, offering a brief, formal nod before exiting the room with a thick stack of ledger documents tucked under his arm. Konstantin shifts in his seat, as he glances down at his watch. Across the table, a maid steps forward from the shadows, her shoes clicking softly against the marble floor as she approaches Leonid. “Master Leonid, it is time for bed,” she says softly, reaching out a hand toward the little boy. The evening is closing, the house is winding down, and upstairs, in my room, Sofia is waiting. I can’t go back there yet. I need to stretch the clock. I need to prolong the time. I know that as long as I am within Konstantin’s sight or attached to Leonid, Sofia won’t dare touch me. “Wait—“Both of them look at me.I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.“Could we — I mean — do you have

  • Her Neglected Scars   FORTY-FIVE: The Knight, The Princess, The Horse

    The Morozov dining hall is massive, a striking display of old-world Russian power. High vaulted ceilings, heavy silver candelabras casting long shadows, and a massive dark oak table filled with platters of roasted meats, steaming bowls of borsch, and expensive bottles of dark red wine. The biting winter air rattles against the frosted glass windows, but the room itself is warm, filled with the rich, savory scents of a feast.Sitting right at the center of the table is Konstantin.He doesn’t have his winter coat on anymore. He’s wearing a dark silk shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing the thick muscles of his chest and the faint edge of a scar near his collarbone. He looks illegally, dangerously attractive.Leonid marches straight up to the table, completely ignoring the tension in the room, and grumpily slams his crumpled piece of drawing paper right next to Konstantin’s plate.“Look at it,” Leonid demands, crossing his arms and huffing. “Carlos said it looks like total garb

  • Her Neglected Scars   FORTY-FOUR: A Sinister Smile

    “Who did that?”The question rattles against the heavy walls of my bedroom. Leonid stands completely rigid, his small finger pointing directly at my face, his dark eyes wide and chillingly identical to his uncle’s when someone is about to die.Before I can even open my mouth to manufacture a lie, Sofia cuts in. She steps forward, her hands smoothing down the front of her crisp grey maid uniform.Sofia moves first.“Oh, that.” She laughs, soft and practiced, already stepping forward with her hands folded in front of her like the perfect devoted maid she absolutely is not. “Lady Evangeline had a small fall earlier, didn’t you, my lady?” Her eyes find mine over Leonid’s head. Warm for the room. Dead for me. “The steps outside were slippery. I kept telling her to be careful.”She tilts her head. Waits.And I know exactly what she’s waiting for.I see my mother’s face behind my eyes. That photograph. Miranda’s hollow cheeks and trembling hands and today’s date written in my father’s handw

  • Her Neglected Scars   FORTY-THREE: Who Did That?

    “We’re gonna have so much fun, sweet, old, Eva.”The fake sweetness vanishes from Sofia’s face faster than water off a hot blade. The submissive maid disappears entirely, replaced by the cruel, vicious bully I’ve known for a decade. Before I can even draw a full breath, her hand shoots out, gripping the collar of my dress, and she yanks me forward, hurling me completely off the bed.My body hits the hard parquet floor with a dull, heavy thud. The breath rushes out of my lungs in a sharp gasp as my hip takes the brunt of the impact against the wood.“Get down there,” Sofia spits, her voice dropping into a venomous, low hiss as she stands over me, looking down at my crumpled form with absolute disgust. “That’s exactly where you belong. Right at my feet, you useless little whore.”I push myself up onto my hands and knees, my hair falling over my face in a tangled curtain.Crack!The force of her palm snapping across my left cheek is so sudden and violent that my head whips sideways. The

  • 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 wearing. It isn’t the standard servant attire of the Morozov estate. It’s expensive wool. Custom-made. My father isn’t even trying to hide his move anymore. He sent his favorite executioner straight to my doorstep, draped in Bennington luxury.Next to me, Konstantin shifts. His massive frame radiates a sudden, dangerous heat. Ever since he discovered the silver crosshatch of old scars on my back earlier, his eyes have never left me. He doesn’t look at me with pity—a man like him doesn’t know how—but he watches me with a dark, razor-sharp protectiveness.His large palm presses flat against the small of my back. His hand grounds me, but I can still feel the tremor shaking my knees.“Who the fu

  • Her Neglected Scars   FORTY-ONE: Sofia

    I stand on the toilet seat with my back against the cubicle wall and I listen to every single word and I do not make a sound.The worst part . . .The part that hollows me out completely, that takes the last thing I was holding onto and pulls it clean out of my chest . . .Is that I cannot find the place in myself to argue with it.I am too tired. I have been too tired for so long. And Irina is saying out loud, in this marble bathroom, in this warm and reasonable and devastated voice, exactly what my own head has been telling me since I was fifteen years old standing in front of a different mirror in a different house trying to breathe through a different kind of panic.You are your father’s weapon.Whatever you build is performance.The scars are the truest thing about you and everyone who matters has now seen them and understood.I stay on the toilet seat until the heels click out. Until the door swings shut. Until the bathroom goes so quiet I can hear the faint sound of the estate

  • Her Neglected Scars   SIXTEEN: Rude Employees and Wrestling Go Together

    “Eva! You’re finally here! I actually waited for you but the dresses were just calling me out!” She chuckles before waving her hands for the attendant to leave her be. She bows down before stepping off the platform. Wow, she is enthusiastic. That’s the total opposite of the shy character hiding beh

  • Her Neglected Scars   FOURTEEN: The Car Empty of the Devil

    The drive to the party was silent. The doorman sat right beside the driver, who was also silently managing the wheel. There was the beautiful bouquet and the smell of expensive wine that’s supposed to be shared by the two engaged people—who, by the way, doesn’t have the balls to show up to me right

  • Her Neglected Scars   TEN: Playing With Fire

    “Because I wanted to see how hot my soon-to-be husband is! There, satisfied?!” I instantly closed my mouth as quickly as I opened them to throw out those stupid words. Konstantin’s gaze flickered with surprise, quickly replaced by an icy, calculated glare.Without another word, the gun halted on my

  • Her Neglected Scars   NINE: To See . . . My Husband?

    So this is what I get for thinking that my good intentions would outweigh my terrible decision-making skills—ending up in a perverted stranger’s hands.Fuck.If I knew this blonde motherfucker had only helped me to satisfy his blue balls, I would have stayed seated on top of Konstantin’s lap.He wa

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