Chapter 32 #2
Konstantin stands slowly, hands clenched at his sides. “Can we see them?”
The doctor nods once. “From the observation window. No one can enter Nikolai’s room yet—not until we’re sure there’s no risk of infection. But…he’s through the worst of it.”
I press my hand to my mouth as tears burn hot and sudden behind my eyes.
We walk together down the long hallway. My legs feel unsteady, like I’m made of glass.
I don’t know what I expect, but nothing prepares me for the sight of Nikolai lying in that small bed, wires and tubes everywhere, his little chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. He looks so small in there. So still.
A glass panel separates us from him.
I step forward until my hands touch the window, forehead resting on the cool surface. The tears come faster now, slipping down my cheeks, and I don’t try to stop them.
“He’s okay,” Konstantin says softly behind me, his hand coming to rest on my back. “You did it.”
We did it, I want to say. But the words won’t come.
I just watch. Watch my son breathing, alive, safe for now.
And in the corner of the adjacent room, through another panel, I see Dmitry. Pale. Still. Monitors beeping around him, the shape of the man who once ruled our world now reduced to quiet recovery.
I don’t know what to make of that. Of him. Of the choices we’ve made to get here.
For now, all I can do is stand here with Konstantin’s hand steady at my back and let myself cry for everything we nearly lost—and everything we still might have to face.
I’m still staring through the glass at Nikolai when the thought slips out of me—quiet, but not unintentional.
“I’m surprised Alexei isn’t here,” I murmur, wiping at the corner of my eye. “Or his mother.”
There’s a pause behind me. A silence that makes me glance over my shoulder.
Konstantin’s jaw tightens slightly, his gaze still fixed on his father’s unmoving form through the second pane of glass. “His mother doesn’t do hospitals,” he says at last, his voice low and edged. “Not unless it’s her name on the file.”
I blink. “She knows he’s here, right?”
He nods, but there’s something distant about the motion. “She knows. She just…doesn’t care to watch him bleed.”
That hits me harder than I expect. I look back at Dmitry—this man who’s caused us so much pain, who somehow also saved my son today. And I realize how strange it is, how twisted and warped this family has become. There’s no warmth. No gathering around the wounded. Just absence.
“Also the fact that she completely hates my guts,” Konstantin says. “I’m a constant reminder that her husband stepped out of their perfect marriage. He basically flaunted my mother in her face for years.”
Yet she still stuck with him, I think. What was it for? Love? Power?
“And Alexei?” I ask gently.
Konstantin exhales through his nose. “Maybe he didn’t want to see his father like this. Maybe he thought it would look like weakness.” He finally looks at me then. “Or maybe he just couldn’t handle it.”
I nod slowly, even though I’m not sure I understand. “That’s not weakness,” I say.
“No,” Konstantin says. “But in this family, it’s hard to tell the difference.”
The coffee is lukewarm by the time I make it back up the elevator.
A sandwich is balanced on top of the tray, napkins folded neatly like the act of care might make everything feel normal for a few minutes.
Lev is still stationed outside Nikolai’s room, arms folded, eyes alert despite the long hours.
He nods at me but doesn’t speak. I offer a small smile in return and continue down the hallway.
Konstantin left to deal with something—business, he said, though I didn’t ask what kind.
I know better. There’s a tension in his shoulders that no amount of quiet time in the hospital waiting lounge can ease.
And for all his hardness, he’s still just a man watching his child survive on borrowed blood.
I slow my steps as I approach the other end of the floor.
Dmitry’s room. The doctors said he might be conscious by now, if the sedation wore off the way they expected.
A part of me isn’t sure why I care, but another part—the one still clinging to the fragile thread that saved my son—wants to say thank you again.
Properly. Not in passing, not from a distance.
I don’t knock. I’m just about to push the door open when it opens from the inside and Alexei nearly crashes into me.
We both freeze.
“You scared me,” I say, stepping back, hand tightening on the tray.
Alexei exhales, his usual cocky mask absent. He looks tired, even older somehow. There’s a weight on his shoulders that wasn’t there the last time I saw him.
“When did you get here?” I ask.
“Just now,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. His tone is casual, but his eyes flicker to the door behind him.
I narrow mine slightly. “Were you just sitting with him?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Then he sighs. “Yeah. But don’t tell my dad I was here. He told me to stay away.”
I blink. “He what?”
“He told me to stay away.” His voice is quiet now. Almost small. “Didn’t want me here. Said I wouldn’t understand.”
I stare at him, stunned. “He’s your father.”
“Yeah, well.” Alexei forces out a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t always mean the door’s open.”
There’s too much in that one sentence—resentment, loyalty, hurt. Things I’m not sure he knows how to say aloud. Things I’ve heard in Konstantin’s voice too.
“I’m not here to cause problems,” he adds quickly. “I just needed to see him. Even if it’s just for a minute.”
I nod slowly. “I won’t say anything.”
He starts to turn away, but something in me speaks before I can stop it. “Alexei.”
He stops.
I take a step closer. “Can I ask you something?”
He exhales like he’s been expecting this. “Go ahead.”
“Why do you think he’s doing this?” I ask.
He nods, face tight. “It’s like…part of him is trying to make up for something, and the other part still doesn’t know how to stop being him. You know?”
I do. God, I do.
“I didn’t think he had it in him,” I murmur. “To choose someone else over himself.”
“He didn’t,” Alexei says bitterly. “He chose himself, in the only way he knows how. Legacy. He doesn’t want to die with everyone calling him a monster.”
“But then…” I trail off, struggling to put it into words. “I saw his face before the procedure. He looked…tired. Not physically. Just—tired in his soul. Like he’d run out of whatever dark fuel he runs on.”
Alexei looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Do you think people like him can change?” I ask quietly.
He’s silent for a beat.
“No,” he finally says. “But I think maybe, for one second, he wanted to be remembered for something other than how many lives he’s wrecked.”
I nod slowly. “Even if that something is saving a child he barely knows.”
“Especially if that child is yours and Konstantin’s,” he says, and there’s no venom in it, only weariness. “Maybe it’s his way of making peace. Or maybe he’s just trying to stay in control even as he fades. I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.” I look down at the floor, then back at him. “Maybe…it’s both. Guilt and love. Maybe it’s his version of showing up.”
He gives a dry laugh. “You’re kinder than I am.”
We stand there for a moment in that strange understanding. Two people trying to reconcile the impossible.
Then Alexei runs a hand through his hair again and says, “Take care of my brother. He’s the only good thing to come out of this family.”
“Alexei, I’m glad you came.”
He looks at me for a long beat. “Me too.”
And then he walks away, down the hall, his hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is finally catching up to him.
I step into the room after a moment, letting the door click shut behind me.
Dmitry’s eyes are still closed.