Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Kirill
The smell of the hospital was nothing new to me.
I'd been a regular here for years. The scent was a constant reminder—of who I was, where I stood, and how everyone around me always met a bad end.
"Mr. Orlov?"
The doctor's voice cut through my thoughts, his eyes darting to the cigarette in my hand. I crushed the unlit stick between my fingers. For once, I played by the rules.
"Talk." I looked up at him. He shifted his weight, uncomfortable under my gaze.
"Miss Sterling got lucky." He pulled down his mask, forcing a nervous smile. "Just superficial wounds and soft tissue bruising. She tumbled down the stairs, but miraculously, nothing's broken. As for the fetus..."
My heart clenched. That kid was still fragile.
"The baby's fine too. The mother was traumatized, showed some signs of threatened miscarriage, but we started emergency treatment right away. Everything's stable now."
I felt oxygen flood back into my lungs.
Thank God.
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. The tension that had wound me tight as wire finally loosened. If Genevie had died tonight, if that baby—whoever's bastard it was—had died in my manor because of my negligence, I'd never forgive myself.
I already owed her once. When her family went bankrupt, when those Wall Street vultures tore them apart, I hadn't protected her. When she was forced to marry that psycho Julian, I hadn't taken her away.
Tonight, I'd almost watched her fall into hell again.
"Is she awake?" I asked.
"Just came to, but she's pretty unstable. Keeps calling your name." He paused, studying me carefully. "Physically, she's okay, but the psychological trauma might take time to heal. Especially with pregnant women—hormones are already all over the place..."
I nodded and waved him off.
The hallway went silent again. I stood in front of that closed door, but I couldn't bring myself to go in.
I was a bastard. No question about it.
I'd made a complete mess of this. I'd dragged two women into my life and couldn't balance a damn thing between them. Genevie had come back to me broken and bleeding, looking for shelter, and I'd let this happen to her.
And Harper had done it. The same woman who'd saved Olga at gunpoint.
Harper's jealousy wasn't hard to understand. It made sense. Women went crazy when they were jealous—I'd seen it plenty of times.
Still. It disappointed me.
"Kirill..."
A weak voice drifted from inside the room, cutting through my self-loathing.
I took a deep breath, straightened my rumpled collar, and pushed the door open.
Genevie looked terrible. The harsh light washed over her bloodless face. Gauze covered her forehead. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess. She looked like she might pass out any second. When she saw me, tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Kirill, it hurts so much."
She reached for me, like she was using her last ounce of strength to call for help. I crossed the room quickly and took her hand.
Ice cold. No warmth at all. My guilt deepened.
"I'm here." I sat down beside the bed, trying to soften my voice.
"The baby, my baby..." Genevie sobbed, gasping for air, fingers clutching my sleeve.
"The baby's fine." I covered her hand with mine, trying to calm her. "Doctor said it's healthy."
Instead of comforting her, my words made her cry harder.
"I'm sorry, Kirill, I'm so sorry..." She shook her head, tears streaming. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have gone to the party. Or—I shouldn't have come to you at all."
I frowned. "Don't talk like that. You're my guest."
"No, I upset Harper." She looked up at me through tears, her eyes full of guilt and fear. "On the stairs, she told me to get out of the manor. I should've just agreed. But I tried to explain. I just wanted somewhere to have the baby..."
Genevie choked up, unable to continue. She buried her face in her hands and wept.
"Stop." I felt like someone had dropped a boulder on my chest. "This isn't your fault."
Not Harper's either, I added silently.
I should've known. With Genevie here, how could Harper feel safe? Our marriage was a transaction. Everyone knew it. And now my first love had come back pregnant. Any woman in Harper's position would've lost her mind.
It was me. Bottom line—it was me.
I'd given Harper the wrong signals. These past few days, I'd indulged her, spoiled her, and made her think she could get rid of whatever she didn't like.
Looking at Genevie crying in front of me, guilt crashed over me like a wave.
"I'm sorry, Genevie." I lowered my head, trying to comfort her. "I didn't protect you. This... will never happen again."
Genevie looked up. Those beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears. She struggled to sit up, ignoring the IV in her arm, and threw herself into my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"Don't leave me, Kirill, don't abandon me!" Her body shook like a frightened bird. "You're all I have left. You're all I have..."
I stiffened for a moment, then slowly raised my hand and patted her back. Her body was soft, a faint trace of perfume clinging to her. But now, for some reason, I thought of how Harper smelled.
That woman had been the Pakhan's wife for two months and still hadn't learned to dress herself up. She always smelled like cleaning solution—not pleasant, really. But when I held her, I felt grounded.
Damn it. What was I thinking?
I forced my attention back to Genevie.
"It's okay. Julian can't find you here. You'll be safe."
Just then, my phone—tossed carelessly on the nightstand—started ringing.
Harper was calling me.
Staring at the flashing screen, my heart pounded. An inexplicable anxiety seized my throat.
Answer it or not?
Logic told me not to. She was in the basement because she deserved to be punished. She'd almost killed two people. If I answered now and heard her crying or begging, would I go soft? Would I turn into some spineless fool and let her out immediately?
That wouldn't be fair to Genevie.
But my hand moved anyway. My fingers almost touched the cold screen.
"Ah—!"
Genevie let out a sharp cry of pain, her body curling up suddenly.
My hand jerked back like I'd been shocked. I grabbed her shoulders. "What's wrong? Where does it hurt?"
"My stomach! My stomach hurts so bad!" Genevie's face went white. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She clutched her belly with one hand and grabbed my shirt with the other, nearly ripping the buttons off. "Kirill... am I going to lose the baby... please help me..."
Even though I knew the child wasn't mine, watching her in pain, I couldn't stay detached.
"Don't be scared. I'll get the doctor." I reached for the call button.
"No! Don't go!" Genevie screamed and threw her arms around my waist, burying her face in my chest, sobbing hysterically. "Don't call the doctor! I don't want to see a doctor. I just need you. It only stops hurting when you hold me."
"Genevie, stop this." I tried to pry her hands off, but I couldn't bring myself to hurt her.
In those few seconds of struggle, the phone on the nightstand stopped vibrating.
The screen went dark.
Only Genevie's sobs and the occasional beep of the monitor filled the room.
That nameless anxiety didn't fade. It grew wild like weeds, strangling me. I glanced at the darkened screen. Something hollow settled in my chest.
The basement was cold. Her knee was injured.
No. When had I gotten so soft? Let her stay the night. She deserved the lesson.
Just one night. Tomorrow, I'd explain everything. Harper shouldn't have turned into someone so vicious over jealousy and suspicion. But... even if I couldn't let her out, I could have someone bring her blankets and ointment. She'd manage. She'd been a nurse not long ago.
I took a deep breath and looked down at Genevie. She seemed calmer now, her breathing evening out, but she still clung to me.
"Feeling better?" I asked.
Genevie looked up at me. Those tear-washed eyes locked onto mine. She didn't answer. Instead, she said, "I'm jealous of her."
"What?"
"I'm jealous of Harper." Her voice was soft, tinged with bitter amusement. "I'm jealous she gets to stand by your side. Jealous she gets to wear Olga's necklace. Jealous she has everything I used to dream about."
She reached up, her fingertips trembling as they traced my face.
"I know I don't deserve you anymore, Kirill. I never thought I'd take her place as your wife." She sniffled, her gaze turning pathetic. "I just want to stay near you. Even if everyone spits on me... as long as I can see you sometimes, as long as you hold me, I'm satisfied. Am I pathetic?"
If I'd heard this confession two years ago, I would've sworn to give her the world.
But now, all I could think about was that missed call. The dark corner of the basement.
"Genevie, you need to rest." I grabbed her hand and pulled it away from my face. "Lie down."
Genevie's eyes filled with sorrow. She leaned closer, her face inches from mine.
"Kirill, I still love you. These past two years in that hell, saying your name was the only thing that kept me alive. Look at me. Please, look at me..."
Then Genevie kissed me.
Her lips were soft, pleading, desperate. Her tongue tried to pry my mouth open.
I didn't push her away. I didn't kiss her back either. I just let her press against me. I was waiting.
Waiting for that familiar spark. That rush I'd felt when I was young and crazy for her. That fire that made me ready to take on the world for her.
But... nothing.
Nothing at all.
Then a sudden vibration drilled into my ear. Was it Harper calling again?
I didn't want to answer. I told myself to let it ring. Compared to a pregnant woman who'd almost lost her baby, one night in the basement was mercy.
Genevie's lips were still on mine, but I couldn't smell her perfume anymore, couldn't feel her warmth. All my attention was on that damn phone. Irritation gnawed at my nerves.
What was I doing? Too much time had passed.
My wife—whatever she'd done, she was still my wife. Even if Harper had pushed Genevie. Even if she'd turned into some jealous monster. I was the one who'd made her that way.
I couldn't go back.
"Enough."
I shoved Genevie away. She stared at me in shock, lips parted, like she couldn't believe I'd pushed her off.
"Kirill?"
"No." I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage churning inside me. "Doctor said you need complete rest."
I hadn't forgiven Harper. Not yet. She needed to learn.
But I couldn't stay here. Every second suffocated me.
Genevie's face went white. She bit her lip. Tears welled up again.
"Get some rest." I avoided looking at those crying eyes. "I'll send the best nurse to take care of you. Boris will guard the door. No one's going to hurt you."
"Kirill! Where are you going?" Genevie scrambled to get out of bed and grab me.
"I've got something to handle." I didn't look back. I strode out of the room.
Instinctively, I reached for my pocket, wanting my phone. Empty.
Then I remembered—I'd left it on the nightstand.
Maybe that was for the best. It would keep me from doing something stupid and soft.