The Volkov Estate

CHAPTER THREE : 

I stood in the middle of the grand hall, surrounded by women who looked like they belonged in magazines, and I felt like a ghost that had wandered into a world where I did not belong. The Volkov estate was even more intimidating than I had imagined, with towering ceilings and marble floors that reflected the light from crystal chandeliers, every surface gleaming with the kind of wealth I had only ever seen in movies. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to make myself smaller, but there was nowhere to hide in this place, nowhere to escape the eyes watching me from every corner.

I was here not because I wanted to be, but because I had to be. If I did not go through with this selection, I would have nothing. No home, no family, no future. My father had made that perfectly clear when he signed me over to the Volkov family like I was property. I could run away and never look back, I thought, the idea flickering through my mind like a desperate prayer. I could disappear and start over somewhere far away from all of this.

But then I remembered Leo's face, cold and cruel, the way he had smiled when he told me I was nothing to him. I remembered the way Mira had laughed when she saw me standing in that hotel room, broken and betrayed. I had nowhere to go, and even if I did, I would always be looking over my shoulder, waiting for them to drag me back.

So I stayed. I stood in the middle of the grand hall, surrounded by women who looked at me like I was an insect that had crawled into their space, and I waited for the selection to begin.

Mrs. Volkov sat at the head of the room, a regal woman with sharp features and cold eyes, surrounded by other family members who looked just as intimidating as she did. They sat in a row of ornate chairs, their faces expressionless, studying each candidate with a scrutiny that made my skin crawl. Bodyguards lined the walls, massive men in dark suits who did not move or speak, and I could feel their eyes on me, waiting for me to do something suspicious.

This place was dangerous, I realized, my heart pounding. Even to hold a selection, they needed this much security. The Volkov family was not just rich; they were powerful enough to have enemies everywhere, powerful enough that they could not afford to trust anyone. I thought about the rumors I had heard, that everyone who got close to the unconscious heir suffered mysterious accidents, and a chill ran down my spine. This was not a selection. It was a death sentence, and I had been handed over to them like a lamb led to slaughter.

I wished I could turn around and leave and never look back. But I knew that if I took a single step toward the exit, they would think I was a spy, and I would be dragged back and questioned, maybe killed. So I stood there, frozen, my hands trembling at my sides, and waited for the nightmare to begin.

The other candidates were already mingling, their voices loud and confident, their laughter echoing off the marble walls. They came from the richest, most powerful families in the country, and they carried themselves with an arrogance that made me feel even smaller than I already was. They talked about their fathers' businesses, their mothers' social circles, their own impressive accomplishments, and I realized I was the only one there who did not belong.

One of the women broke away from the group and approached me, her heels clicking against the floor like gunshots. She was tall and beautiful, with perfect hair and a flawless dress, and she looked at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of her shoe. "What is a worthless piece of trash like you doing here?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "This is the Volkov estate. The richest family in the country. Definitely not a place for someone like you."

My cheeks flushed with anger, and I opened my mouth to defend myself, to tell her I did not want to be here any more than she wanted me here. But the words stuck in my throat, and all that escaped was a bitter, humorless scoff. She was right, I thought. I was useless. I did not belong here.

But I could not leave. I had nowhere else to go. I thought about sleeping in doorways and begging for food, and wondered if that would be better than this. At least I would be free. At least I would not have to stand here and listen to these women insult me while I waited for my fate to be decided.

But I could not run. I was trapped, and I had no choice but to stay and see this through.

Mrs. Volkov raised her hand, and the room fell silent. The other candidates stopped talking and turned to face her, their expressions eager and expectant. My heart pounded as she began to speak, her voice cold and commanding, demanding obedience. "Welcome to the Volkov estate," she said, her eyes sweeping the room. "You have all been selected to participate in this process because you have something to offer our family. Do not mistake this for an honor. It is a responsibility, and it is one you will take seriously, or you will be removed."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and tight. The other candidates nodded and murmured their agreement, but I stayed silent, my hands clasped tightly in front of me. I did not want any of this. But I had no choice. I had signed that document, and now I was bound to this nightmare.

The selection began, and the first candidate stepped forward. She was a tall woman with sharp cheekbones and a confident smile, and she spoke without hesitation. "I have three degrees," she announced, her voice ringing through the hall. "I graduated at the top of my class from the best universities in the country. And my womb is intact and perfectly healthy. I am ready to carry the heir and provide the Volkov family with the strongest possible bloodline."

I blinked, struggling to process what I had just heard. Three degrees, and she was standing here reducing herself to her fertility, proud of it. I looked around the room at the other candidates and saw the same ambition in their eyes, the same hunger for power and status. They did not care about the heir. They did not care about the Volkov family. They cared about what this position would give them: the influence and security that came with being the mother of the next generation.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, bitter and ironic, but I forced it down. It was bad, I thought, shaking my head, really bad, that someone with three degrees had to stand here and convince a family she was worthy of caring for an heir who was in a coma. She had spent years building a career, becoming the best version of herself, and now she was offering herself up like a prize to be won.

Mrs. Volkov nodded, her expression unreadable, and the candidate st

epped back with a satisfied smile.