CHAPTER 3

NIKOLAI VOLKOV

AT THE MOMENT…

"Idiot." Now I knew that no Harrington ever forgets an insult. And Victoria, with her ethereal, false beauty and morbid pride, was the worst of them all. That wasn't a simple "no." For her, it was a declaration of war. And today, being forced to marry the sister she despises, I see with absolute clarity: this is her revenge.

She couldn't have me, so she ties me to a "deformed" woman to punish me. She makes me the husband of a woman who is a symbol of everything she considers inferior, just to remind me, every day, that in the end, it was I who was rejected by her.

"Damn it." The word echoes in my mind now, as I enter the mansion's hall. I clench my fists until my knuckles turn white.

Then the memory of what happened last night replaced the sight of the gates.

Victoria's 23rd birthday party…

The invitation was such an obvious trap that even a green recruit from the Bratva would have been suspicious. But my arrogance – the same arrogance that made me believe a "no" would suffice – prevailed. I accepted.

Now I know it was all a plan, a plan for social annihilation, orchestrated with a cruelty that even I, on my worst days, would admire.

The Harringtons had two problems to solve. The first was Victoria's unhealthy obsession with revenge. The second was the "burden" that was their eldest daughter, Angeline – the scarred young woman who tarnished the "perfect" image they so carefully cultivated. A shame they hid in the darkest corners of the mansion.

Their ambition was twofold, and ingenious in its perversity: to get rid of Angeline by marrying her off to an influential man who, once bound to them by the blood of marriage, would bring his power to the clan. And, at the same time, to give Victoria and her parents the perfect sadistic revenge: to force Nikolai Volkov to marry a "deformed" woman whom they themselves had brought into the world and raised as a nobody.

At the party, Victoria greeted me with a smile as sweet as poison, her blue eyes icy. She offered me a glass, proposing a toast, which I, the idiot, drank.

The drug was potent, colorless, and odorless. It wasn't long before the world began to spin, the lights merging into blurry patches. I felt the ground give way beneath my feet.

"You don't look well, Nikolai," I heard Victoria's voice, feigning concern. "Let me take you to a room so you can rest."

My vision was already blurring. I felt his arms around me, guiding me. The last coherent thought I had was one of pure contempt for my own weakness. Then, only darkness...

CHAPTER 4

NIKOLAI VOLKOV

AT DAWN…

Consciousness returned like a blow, brutal and sudden. My head throbbed as the world spun around me.

My eyes opened to an unfamiliar room. And then, I felt—the warmth of a soft body against mine. The weight of another's arm on the sheet.

What I saw made my blood run cold instantly. A woman. She was facing away from me and completely naked, her shoulders were thin, and her skin delicate and pale. Her dark hair was spread out on the pillow.

My instincts, still dulled by the drug, went on alert. "Who the hell was that?" As if sensing the weight of my gaze, she moved. A sigh, a tremor. And then, she turned.

At that moment I felt my world stop; on his face, a huge scar.

A violent line snaked from her temple to her mouth, a mark of brutality etched in delicate strokes. She was a young woman. And I didn't know her. I had no idea who she was.

Our eyes met. Hers, green, widened in horror. She opened her mouth to scream.

"Shut up, you damned woman!" I growled, my voice a harsh roar that echoed in the silent room.

The shock made her speechless, but it didn't calm her. She cowered, pulling the sheets to cover her naked body, an uncontrollable tremor running through her.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her voice a thread of horror. "What are you doing in my bed? Naked?"

Before I could answer, the door burst open violently.

And there they were. Victoria in front, with a vengeful smile. Behind, the Harringtons—Richard with his look of feigned disappointment, Elizabeth with her hand on her chest, pretending to be shocked.

"My God!" Elizabeth exclaimed, her voice pure theater. "Nikolai... you... you dishonored my daughter! And my poor daughter Angeline was... raised in a boarding school!"

Old Richard stepped forward, his steely gaze piercing me. "You corrupted her purity under my roof! In our tradition, you know the price. You will take responsibility and marry her. A man of your standing should set an example!"

And then, Victoria. Her blue eyes gleamed with triumphant hatred as they scanned the scene: me, still dazed in bed, and her sister, the "deformed" one, trembling like a leaf.

She laughed, a chilling sound. “Who would have thought, Nikolai? You resisted me because you have such… peculiar tastes. You like the circus of horrors, do you?” Her eyes turned to her sister. “And you, little sister? Raised like a saint, and in the end… you’re a slut.”

"No!" the girl cried out in despair. "That's not true! I've never slept with him, I don't even know him! Why is he in my room?"

She was crying, trembling, she looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown. And I… I almost fell for that performance. Almost.

But I wasn't that stupid. The obvious was right there before my eyes. The final piece of that damned trap was precisely the feigned innocence, the choreographed despair. She was in the game, just like all the Harringtons. They were accomplices in trapping me in this… thing.

It wasn't a mistake. It was a trap, perfect and sadistic.

The roar of the limousine engine as it shuts off rips me from the past. I'm back. Facing my new prison. With the woman who was the instrument of my downfall.

I look at Angeline, still huddled in her corner. The veil is a symbol of all this: a cover for a disgusting truth. And I was the fool who fell for their rotten fairy tale.

I had barely crossed the threshold of the mansion's main hall, dragging Angeline along like a burden beside me, when I came upon that grotesque scene. My father, Ivan Volkov, and the other lords of the clan, as well as the Harringtons, were already waiting for us.

Looking at the triumphant faces of Victoria and her parents, my blood boiled, but I controlled myself.

My father's icy gaze still reminded me of the damned shame I felt later when I arrived at the Volkov mansion and had to tell my father in his office.

"It was a trap, Dad," I explained, my voice thick with suppressed anger. "They drugged me. They put that woman in my bed."

Ivan Volkov, the Old Bear, looked at me, his face marked by wrinkles and distrust. His silence was more frightening than any shouting.

"And you fell, son," he finally said, his voice a low growl. "You fell like a rookie. Now you're stuck with this damned family, you're stuck with the… Harringtons."

"I'm not bound to anything," I retorted, my eyes fixed on his. "Marriage is just a piece of paper. And it'll be the perfect excuse to end them."

He studied my face for a long moment, the disappointment in his eyes slowly giving way to a glint of somber resignation.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Nikolai," he grumbled, turning to the window. "You're the Pakhan now. Your decisions affect us all."

"I know very well what I'm doing, Dad," I replied, the image of Victoria smiling burning in my mind. "I know perfectly well."

And I knew it. I organized that idiotic wedding myself. For them, it was my surrender. For me, it was the first shovel digging their grave; nobody messes with Nikolai Volkov.