LOGINMERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL. THANKS FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT AND I WISH YOU ALL A HAPPY NEW YEAR IN ADVANCE đ¤đâ¨đ
âNora's POVâ7 Months later...ââThe bell above the bakery door chimed as another customer walked in, and I looked up automatically with a smile already on my face. The morning rush had been relentless, but I couldn't find it in myself to complain. My life had been controlled by fear, secrets, bloodshed, and men who lived in a world I never should have been dragged into. Now my biggest concern was whether we'd run out of cinnamon rolls before noon. It felt almost laughable.âThe bakery was thriving.âI had thought of what to use the money Aleksei had given to us to invest in. Then I thought of a bakery. I had always loved baking since I was little...the fresh smell of bread and cake batter filling the air. It was refreshing, and it worked! I had successfully started up the business with Lola and Elia's help. It was a struggle at first, but we made it work.âSome days, it was so busy that Lola and I barely had time to sit down. We had hired two employees last month, and even then the
âMikhail's POVâI woke up feeling like death. For several seconds, I lay motionless on the bed staring at the ceiling, my mind blank and my body heavy from the alcohol coursing through my system. Then reality returned all at once. Nora. Houston. Gone. The ache hit immediately, sharp and merciless, squeezing around my chest until breathing felt like work. My throat felt dry enough to crack, my head pounded with every beat of my heart, and the half-empty whiskey bottle sitting on my nightstand explained exactly why. I groaned and pushed myself upright, instantly regretting it when the room tilted slightly. "Fuck." Pressing my palms against my eyes, I tried to steady myself. Sometime after Nora left yesterday, I had drunk myself into oblivion. I remembered standing in the foyer watching her walk away. Remembered the sound of the front door closing behind her. Remembered the unbearable silence afterward. Everything beyond that was whiskey, anger, and grief.âDragging myself out of bed, I
âMikhailâs POVThe mansion had never been this quiet before.âNot even after deaths.âNot after funerals.âNot after bloodshed.âThis silence was different.âIt felt hollow.âRotting.âLike the entire house had finally become what Nora always called it from the very beginning.âA cage.âThe flowers in the living room had died days ago. Nobody bothered replacing them anymore. The roses I once filled the mansion with for her had withered into dark brittle things before the maids finally threw them away. Even the marble halls felt colder now, stripped of the warmth her presence unknowingly brought into them.âI spent most days locked inside my office.âWhen I was not working, I was drinking.âAnd when I was not drinking, I was staring at the ceiling unable to sleep because every time I closed my eyes, I saw blood soaking through Noraâs clothes while she cried about our baby.âOur baby.âEven now, two weeks later, the words still carved through me like glass.âThe whiskey burned going dow
âNoraâs POVââPain wakes me first.âNot sharp.âNot violent.âJust deep.âHeavy.âLike my entire body has been hollowed out and stitched back together wrong.âMy eyelids feel too heavy to open at first. My throat burns like sandpaper and every breath tastes sterile and cold. Somewhere nearby, machines beep steadily in slow repetitive patterns.âI force my eyes open.âLight floods my vision instantly, making me wince.âEverything is blurry at first.âWhite ceiling.âSoft gray walls.âA large window with pale morning light bleeding through the curtains.âIt takes several seconds for my vision to fully adjust before I realize I am lying in a hospital bed.âPrivate room.âPrivate wing.âOf course.âRomanov money could probably buy an entire hospital if they wanted.âMy head turns slightly.âFlowers.âSo many flowers.âBouquets cover nearly every available surface in the room. White roses. Lilies. Orchids. Expensive arrangements tied with silk ribbons. Cards rest beside them, some handwri
âNoraâs POVââThe SUV flies down the highway like a bullet ripping through darkness.âEverything shakes.âThe engine screams beneath us while the driver fights the wheel with both hands. Trees blur past the windows in streaks of black and gray. Rain from earlier still clings to the road, making every sharp turn feel like we are seconds away from death.âBehind us, headlights remain locked on our tail.âMikhail.âI can feel him even before I see him again.âRelentless.âViktor grips my arm tighter as another gunshot cracks through the night.âThe rear of the SUV jerks violently.ââFaster!â Viktor snaps.ââWe are losing the tire!â the driver yells back.âAnother shot rings out.âThen another.âThe fourth bullet destroys the tire completely.âThe explosion is deafening.âThe SUV swerves hard.âEverything happens at once.âThe driver loses control instantly. Tires screech against wet asphalt as the vehicle fishtails across the highway. My shoulder slams painfully into the door while Vikt
âNoraâs POVâThe room smells like metal, dust, and old rain trapped inside concrete.âI sit tied to the chair exactly where Lucien left me, my wrists raw from struggling too long against ropes that refuse to loosen. The bulb above me flickers every few seconds, throwing weak yellow light across the walls before dimming again. Time drags strangely here. Every minute feels stretched thin and uneven.âAt some point, exhaustion settles into my bones so deeply that even fear becomes tiring.âBut my mind never stops.âIt keeps circling the same things over and over again.âMy parents.âThe accident.âMikhail.âThe pregnancy I still have not spoken aloud.âMy stomach twists painfully at the thought of it. I press my bound hands tighter against the chair behind me and force myself not to think about it. I cannot afford to break now. Not here.âThe door opens again.âLucien walks in carrying a glass of water. Calm. Composed. Like he is visiting someone instead of holding them captive.âHe crou
âMikhailâs POVâRomanov Estate â 11:58 p.m.âThe estate was too still, the kind of silence that comes right before a storm breaks. I left the Porsche idling on the gravel and took the front steps two at a time. The chandelier was dimmed to a sickly gold, throwing long shadows across the marble.âMy
âMikhailâs POVâThe private wing smelled of sharp bleach, cold metal, and the faint sweetness of antiseptic that never quite masked the underlying scent of sickness. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright, too white, turning every face ghostly. I stood at the observation window, palms press
âIngridâs POV âI stood in front of the full-length mirror in my dressing room, staring at the faint red mark Nora had left on my wrist when I grabbed her at the gala. My nails had dug into her skin first, but somehow sheâd still managed to bruise me. The memory made my jaw clench. âThat little no
âNoraâs POVâI woke up to the smell of Mikhail on the sheets and the dull ache between my thighs. Sunlight sliced through the penthouse blinds, painting gold stripes across his bare back. For one heartbeat the world felt quiet. Then reality slammed back in. The vibration of an incoming call from Mi
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