Chapter 15 Nadya
NADYA
I don’t know how many hours I’ve been here. The light outside has shifted from silver to orange to gray.
I barely noticed.
I sit in the hospital chair, legs cramping, back sore—but I don’t move. Nikolai’s hand is small in mine, his skin still a little clammy from the fever, but his breathing is steady now. Shallow, but steady.
I hold on to that.
With my other hand, I hold a book. His favorite—The Tiger Who Came to Tea. I’ve read it so many times the spine is coming apart. He’s heard it so often he could recite it in his sleep, and sometimes he does.
I’m not even sure he’s awake now. But I read anyway, voice low and gentle, like my mother used to do for me when I was small.
Irina sits nearby, scrolling through her phone, quietly coordinating next steps with the hospital. She’s my shield, my backup, my rock.
Across the room, beneath a star-print fleece blanket, Mila stirs.
She doesn’t make a sound at first. She stretches her arms and blinks, then silently slides off the cot and crosses the room in her socked feet.
She crawls into my lap without a word and curls into my chest like she used to do when she was two.
I keep reading, pretending my voice isn’t shaking.
Mila lifts her head. “Is Kolya going to be okay?” she whispers, like she’s afraid if she says it too loud, it’ll make it worse.
I close the book. “I hope so, baby,” I whisper.
She lifts her head and looks straight at me. Her eyes—so big, so serious—hold something I haven’t seen before.
“But I don’t want hope,” Mila says. “I want a promise.”
It breaks me. I turn away so she won’t see the tears in my eyes.
I can’t lie to her. I can’t promise what I don’t know.
But I also can’t let her drown in fear.
“I’m doing everything I can,” I say, kissing her temple. “And I’m not going to stop. Ever. Okay?”
She doesn’t say anything. Just nestles into me again, her hand on my heart like she’s trying to hold it still.
I close my eyes, and for a moment, I just breathe. Her in my arms. Nikolai beside me. Irina sitting quietly in the corner.
My whole world, in one small hospital room.
And I’ll burn down everything to protect it.
I’ve been here for hours.
Irina gently reminds me of the time, but I don’t move. My body aches from the stiff hospital chair, but I’d rather ache than be away. Mila has fallen asleep again, tucked under my jacket like it’s a second blanket. Nikolai hasn’t stirred.
I press my lips to his knuckles. “I’m here, baby. Mommy’s here.”
The last few days have been madness. I’ve been stretched thin, desperate, slipping. I know it. I’ve taken risks I shouldn’t have. But when your child is sick, nothing else matters.
And thankfully I don’t have to worry about Konstantin. Two nights ago, after dinner, he dropped some news.
Konstantin stood near the window of his office, his silhouette backlit by the amber glow of the setting sun. His jacket was draped over the arm of a chair, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He’d been quiet since the call ended. Tense, focused.
I lingered in the doorway, half hoping he hadn’t noticed me yet.
But he spoke before I could announce myself. “I’ll be out of the city for a few days.”
I blinked. “Oh.”
He finally turned to me, his face unreadable. “Just business. You’ll be safe here.”
“Where are you going?” I asked carefully.
He picked up a glass tumbler from the table, swirled the contents once, then set it down without drinking. “South. The docks.”
That wasn’t an answer. And he knew it.
I folded my arms over my chest. “What kind of business takes you away so often?”
He walked toward me slowly, unhurried. “The kind I don’t involve you in.”
“Why not?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. “You married me. Bought me. You’ve claimed every inch of my life…except the truth.”
He stopped inches from me, his eyes studying my face.
“You don’t want to know the truth, Nadya,” he said softly. “The truth has blood on its hands.”
I swallowed hard, but didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”
He reached out, brushing a finger under my chin, tilting it up just slightly. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing in my world.”
My heart was pounding. “I’m not a fool, Konstantin.”
“No,” he said. “You’re not.”
For a beat, we stood there in silence.
Then he stepped away, walking to his desk.
“I’ve already made arrangements. Lev will stay nearby in case you need anything. You’ll have the estate to yourself. I figured you could use the space.”
That last part—it had felt almost kind. A strange softness beneath his usual steel.
I remember swallowing hard. “Thank you.”
His eyes flicked to me, holding for just a second too long.
Now, I try not think what that look meant.
I stay curled between my children a little longer, pretending the sterile walls and faint chemical tang of antiseptic don’t exist.
Nikolai stirs beside me, his lashes fluttering. He doesn’t open his eyes, but his fingers twitch weakly around mine. I squeeze back gently.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” I whisper. “You’re going to get better. I promise.”
Even if it kills me.
Mila hums softly under her breath, still half-asleep, still nestled against my side like she’s trying to keep her brother warm with her own little heart. Irina smiles from the corner of the room, watching us with that quiet patience only she knows how to manage.
It almost feels…normal.
Safe.
A bubble.
I soak it in—this impossible, borrowed moment. One I know I don’t get to keep.
There’s a knock at the door, and a young nurse steps inside, a clipboard in her hand. “Ms. Makarova?”
I stiffen slightly at the name but nod.
“The doctor asked if you could go down to the pharmacy on level two. Nikolai’s blood pressure dropped earlier, and we need to start a different course of medication. The supply here’s out of stock, but it’s available downstairs.”
I glance at Irina.
She stands, already taking my place beside the bed. “I’ve got them,” she says gently. “Go. I’ll call if anything changes.”
I press my lips to both their foreheads before grabbing my bag, casting one last look at the room before stepping out. The door shuts behind me with a soft click.
I hate walking away from them, even for ten minutes.
The hospital pharmacy smells like old paper and antiseptic. I hand over the slip for the medication, still breathless from rushing down here. The woman behind the counter takes it without looking at me, her fingers already tapping away at the keyboard.
“That’ll be one hundred sixty-five,” she says blandly.
I reach for my purse, pretending I’m calm. Collected.
But the moment I open my wallet, I know.
Shit.
I flip through the bills, check the inside pocket, even swipe open my banking app—but the numbers haven’t updated. The transfer from earlier today hasn’t landed yet. I’m short.
Painfully short.
“I just need a moment,” I murmur, offering the pharmacist a strained smile as I glance behind me. There’s already a small line. A mother with a child. A tired-looking nurse. All waiting. Pressure crawls under my skin.
I don’t want to leave without the meds. Nikolai needs them. Now.
And then, there’s a voice behind me.
Low. Calm. Icy.
“I’ll pay for it.”
I turn slowly. Konstantin is standing just a few feet away, like he’s been there the whole damn time. His suit is dark, his tie loosened like he made the effort to look casual. But his eyes? They’re burning.
He’s already offering his card to the pharmacist, gaze locked on mine.
My stomach plummets. “Konstantin,” I breathe, almost dizzy. “I—I didn’t expect—”
“Clearly.” His tone is mild, but it cuts deeper than any raised voice.
The pharmacist finishes the transaction without a word. Konstantin hands the meds to me, slowly, his fingers brushing mine for just a second too long.
And in that second, I know.
I’ve been caught.
My fingers are cold. My heart feels like it’s vibrating in my chest.
I step out of line without a word, but he follows.
Of course he follows.
In the hallway, I finally find my voice. Barely. “What are you doing here?” I ask, not looking at him.
“I could ask you the same question,” he says evenly, nodding toward the bag in my hand. “Who are you buying those for?”
I don’t answer.
He stops walking, so I stop too.
“You told me you had no family,” he says, quieter now. “No one except your father.”
I swallow hard.
“Nadya,” he says, more gently. “Who are you here for?”
I finally turn to him.
His face is unreadable. Calm. Controlled. But his eyes…they’re asking.
I grip the paper bag tighter. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” I say, my voice thin. “I’m not—this isn’t a betrayal.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Then why are you here?” I ask. “What, you followed me? You lied about leaving town?”
He grabs me by my elbow so I have no choice but to stop and look at him. “I need answers, right now. No more lying.”
“Don’t do this here,” I murmur, glancing around. A couple nurses pass by, but no one’s paying attention.
“No?” he says. “Seems like here’s exactly where this conversation belongs.”
I shake my head, pressing my back lightly against the wall. “You followed me.”
He steps closer. “I gave you space. And you ran straight to the one thing you’ve been hiding.”
“You don’t know anything,” I say, but even I hear the weakness in my voice.
He leans in, not touching me, not raising his voice—but there’s heat in his eyes now. Not just anger. Hurt.
“I know enough,” he says quietly. “I know you’ve been coming here. I know you wired money to a woman named Irina.”
My throat feels like it’s closing. “Please,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move. “Who are you protecting?” he asks, almost gently. “Because it’s not just yourself.”
I look away.
He’s staring at me like I’m a stranger. Like he doesn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him anymore.
“You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” he says. “Don’t act like I haven’t noticed. The missed calls, the nights you disappear into that damn room, the fake stories about your past—”
“I never told you any stories,” I snap, voice trembling. “You never asked.”
“Bullshit,” he says, taking a step closer. “You think I haven’t seen you texting at all hours? The way you completely disappeared into a shell this past week? The way you left at the party and lied about it? I know you came here, Nadya.”
My head jerks toward him. “You knew?”
“Yes,” he says.
“You put out a trap for me.”
“It’s not a trap,” he says. “I needed to know why you’re slipping away. What the hell am I supposed to think?”
“I don’t know, Konstantin,” I hiss, my heart racing. “Maybe that I have a life outside of you.”
What did he think it was? I don’t belong to him.
His eyes flash. “Is that what this is?”
I freeze.
“I should’ve known,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “The way you vanish when my back’s turned. The way you lie so easily.”
I feel the slap before it lands.
Not physical.
Just words.
But they land all the same.
He narrows his eyes. “So? Who is he?”
“What?”
“The man you’re running to,” he says, louder now. “You think I’m blind? You’re so desperate to get away from me, from this, that you’d risk everything just to crawl into someone else’s bed?”
The blood drains from my face.
I open my mouth. Close it again. Then something inside me breaks.
“You think this is about a man?” I shout.
He says nothing, but the smug tension in his jaw answers for him.
I laugh bitterly. “You really think that low of me, don’t you?”
His fists are clenched. “I think you’re not telling me the truth.”
“I’m protecting my children!” I explode, and the words ricochet between us before I can stop them.
Konstantin’s face goes still. Completely blank.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I go on, the dam broken, my voice hoarse. “I did what I had to do to keep them safe. From you. From your world. From the kind of men who buy women like livestock and point guns at everything that moves. I didn’t tell you because I knew what you’d do.”
His jaw flexes, but his eyes—his eyes—they shift.
Not rage anymore. Confusion. Disbelief. A thousand unspoken questions crashing all at once. “What did you say?” he breathes.
I stare at him, heart hammering. “You heard me.”
He’s blinking, slow and uneven. “Children,” he says. “You have—”
“Two,” I whisper. “Twins.”
And then, quieter still, like it costs me everything—
“One of them is suffering. Because of you.”
The look on his face is everything. Rage. Confusion. And underneath it, a flicker of something I’ve never seen in Konstantin before.
Fear.
He takes a single step forward, like he’s about to speak, to demand something from me—but I shake my head once.
Just once.
And it’s enough. Because I see it in his eyes. The cracks.
The truth snapping into place behind his silence.
I turn before he can say another word.
And I walk away.