Chapter 12
Viktor
I glanced at my watch. Two-fifty in the afternoon.
This was when the manor staff usually gathered for their meal.
Lately, my energy had been abnormally high.
Ever since I slept with Hazel, my sleep quality had improved dramatically. The insomnia that plagued me for twenty years had almost completely vanished. I fell into deep sleep every night, no longer jolted awake by nightmares.
Even the migraines that used to strike regularly had become rare.
Today's negotiations with Moscow went exceptionally well too.
Put me in a decent mood.
I rose from my chair, pushed open the study door, and headed straight for the side hall in the manor's east wing.
Even though I'd returned to the manor today—meaning the kitchen staff wouldn't dare openly withhold Hazel's food anymore—I still felt uneasy during this gap before the new manager arrived.
I wanted to see for myself if she'd eaten properly today.
I stopped outside the side hall's half-open double doors.
The hall looked the same as always. A long oak table sat in the center, surrounded by a dozen or so maids and kitchen helpers eating their meal. I stood in the corridor's shadow, silently searching for that chestnut-haired figure.
Hazel sat at the very edge of the long table, tucked into the corner.
Alone. Today was Margaret's checkup day, which explained why no one sat with her.
She wore a loose, pale gray dress. In front of her sat a fairly decent lunch—grilled chicken breast, a vegetable salad, and a bowl of cream soup.
She held a fork, head down, eating the food on her plate one bite at a time.
She was eating. That should've reassured me.
But I immediately noticed something off about the atmosphere in the hall.
The area around Hazel was noticeably empty, as if everyone had agreed to keep their distance. The nearest maid sat three seats away. The empty chairs between them formed an invisible barrier.
"Some people have no shame."
A sharp female voice suddenly cut through the air from the other end of the table.
I followed the sound. Grace, of course. The fifty-something cook stood with her hands on her hips, wearing a smug expression.
"If I were her, I wouldn't dare show my face here."
Several young maids stopped chewing immediately, looking at Grace. They exchanged excited glances, then burst into cruel laughter.
I'd always despised this kind of stupid bullying from the lower ranks.
"I honestly cannot understand the boss's taste. That woman's face is covered in freckles, and her chest and thighs are disgustingly thick. What kind of tricks did she use?"
"Maybe she's got some nasty special skills in that department." A young maid sitting beside Grace jumped in, her eyes full of crude insinuation.
The entire hall erupted in raucous laughter.
I stood in the corridor's shadow, coldly observing it all.
Grace had just crossed my line.
She wasn't just viciously mocking Hazel's appearance and body—she was openly questioning my taste. By my rules, this kind of overstepping stupidity was enough to convict her.
I clenched my fists hard, locking my gaze on Hazel, waiting for her reaction.
Hazel sat in the corner.
Head still down, her fork mechanically pushing around the vegetables on her plate.
She seemed to be desperately pretending she hadn't heard anything, shoulders slightly curled inward, trying to escape these vicious words with this pathetic ostrich posture.
A wave of intense disappointment surged through me.
Last night's steak had been wasted.
Besides my daughter Anya, I rarely tried to change anyone.
To me, everyone had their own way. I didn't have the patience to change people. My job was simply to make necessary selections.
But with Hazel, I'd unusually spoken up. Maybe it was because her timid behavior really was annoying to watch. Maybe just because she was the mother of my child, and I couldn't treat her like any ordinary woman.
Turns out all those words were wasted.
Hazel was still that spineless woman who let others trample her dignity into the dirt.
She'd submitted. She'd rather be that pitiful creature everyone kicked around.
A wave of irritation churned in my chest. I didn't know why, but seeing her humiliated like this pissed me off immensely, like watching something that belonged to me get trampled.
But my irritation didn't last long.
Soon, a sharp metallic clang echoed through the hall.
Hazel.
She'd slapped her fork down on the table.
Then she took a deep breath and slowly but firmly stood up.
The cruel laughter in the hall cut off instantly. Every maid and helper stared at her in shock.
Under all those startled eyes, Hazel walked straight toward Grace at the table.
Her steps weren't fast.
I could clearly see her hands shaking violently at her sides. Her body language still betrayed her extreme fear and tension.
But she didn't stop. She walked right up to Grace.
"Grace." Hazel's voice trembled, but she tried to control it. "Do you have a problem with me?"
Grace let out a cold laugh, leaning back arrogantly in her chair.
"I don't deny it," Grace answered smugly. "And it's not just me. I'd say everyone in this manor has a problem with you."
Hazel's chest heaved violently.
"There's been a misunderstanding between us." Hazel's voice rose, trying to overpower Grace's arrogance. "I'm not what you all imagine in your heads. I didn't use any dirty tricks to seduce anyone."
Grace curled her lip contemptuously.
"And." Hazel stared directly into Grace's eyes. "Whatever misunderstanding you have about me, however much you hate me, you have no right to publicly humiliate my appearance and my body like this."
Hazel paused. She took another deep breath, as if to gather strength to continue.
"I do have freckles on my face. My body isn't standard.
I admit I'm no stunning beauty." Hazel acknowledged her physical flaws frankly.
"But that's absolutely no reason for you to trample my dignity.
Your vicious verbal attacks don't just show your lack of manners—they prove how dark and ugly you are inside. "
I heard every word Hazel said clearly.
The corner of my mouth lifted involuntarily.
I didn't know why this made me feel so energized, but undeniably, something like satisfaction surged through my veins.
Hazel had done it. She should've done this long ago.
That timid, submissive act never should've been the true face of a young woman so full of life.
She was more dazzling and captivating now than ever before.
But Grace was enraged by Hazel's direct counterattack. She shot up from her chair, her body leaning forward aggressively.
"How dare you lecture me about having no manners?
" Grace screamed in fury. "You shameless, lowly woman!
If you were capable of doing something so filthy, do you really think you can stop everyone from talking about you?
You dared to crawl into the boss's bed, so you'd better be ready to face everyone's scorn! "
That crossed the line completely.
Evelyn, who'd been hidden with me in the corridor, frowned sharply. She stepped forward, ready to stop this farce.
But I immediately reached out and pressed down on Evelyn's shoulder, signaling her to stand down.
As I expected, Hazel wasn't intimidated by Grace's roar.
"I'll say it again." Hazel's voice grew even more resolute. "Since the day I entered this estate, I have never done anything to hurt you, Grace. I have no reason to accept this kind of public humiliation from you."
Every word Hazel said made sense. By the end, the timidity and tremor had vanished completely. She even stepped forward, staring hard into Grace's eyes.
But after a brief stunned moment, Grace laughed coldly with contempt.
"You're right, you haven't hurt me. But what about Miss Anya?" Grace raised her voice. "Can you honestly say you haven't done anything to hurt Anya?"
The atmosphere instantly turned heavy. No one was laughing anymore.
Hazel froze helplessly in place, her face turning deathly pale. She tried to open her mouth to argue, but no sound came out.
The harm to Anya was Hazel's fatal weakness in this manor.
Seeing she'd successfully broken Hazel, Grace smugly pressed on.
"She spent the entire night looking for you. Everyone here knows that. And yet you showed up naked in her father's bed. How could you do that to her?"
The maids around them erupted again in cruel laughter.
I couldn't hold back anymore.
I shoved open the side hall's heavy door.
The noisy laughter and Grace's arrogant shouting were instantly severed by that massive sound.
Every eye in the room turned toward the door in terror.
"You all seem to be having fun."
I strode into the hall, expressionless.
The maids who'd been mockingly laughing at Hazel moments ago now stood frozen, faces drained of color. They scrambled from their chairs, standing in a disorganized line, completely at a loss.
I walked straight to the head of the long table. Grace's face was now filled with horror, her lips trembling uncontrollably.
"Grace," I spoke coldly. "When did it become your place to meddle in my family affairs? Is that included in your salary?"
Grace opened her mouth, but no sound came from that vicious tongue.
"You're shameless and vicious," I continued. "I don't think there's a place for you here."
Grace shook violently at my words.
Evelyn immediately stepped forward from behind me, bowing slightly with respect.
"Yes, sir," Evelyn answered clearly.
Grace finally snapped out of her extreme terror, but it was too late. Two security guards entered from outside, grabbing Grace's arms on either side. Ignoring her struggles and pleas, they dragged her out of the hall.
I turned around, slowly scanning every terrified servant present.
"Hazel Brooks is my woman. She carries my bloodline. However you choose to see it."
I paused, then continued.
"From this second on, if anyone dares make any disrespectful comment about her appearance or her background—no matter how many years you've served in this manor—you'll end up exactly like Grace.
I won't just fire you immediately. I'll make sure you can't find a single job anywhere on the West Coast."
The entire hall fell into dead silence.
Every servant kept their head down in terror. No one dared make the slightest sound.
After handling that, I turned to look at Hazel standing behind me.
"Viktor... you..."
She still looked shocked, her eyes already reddening.
I walked up to her and stroked her cheek. Her skin was warm, slightly feverish.
"You did well." I gave her quiet affirmation. "And I promise you, you're far more beautiful than those ugly creatures hiding in corners judging others."
Hazel blinked in confusion. After a moment, as if finally understanding what I meant, her eyes instantly filled with tears.
"God, thank you." Hazel choked out, covering her face with her hands.
But tears still poured through her fingers, sliding down the back of her hands. Her shoulders began shaking violently. All that strength from her earlier confrontation seemed to have disappeared, leaving only her fragile, soft core.
She tried to control her emotions, taking several deep breaths, but failed.
"I'm sorry." Her voice broke apart from crying. "I'm just... emotional. No one has ever... no one's ever said that to me before."
That tear seemed to fall on my heart, bringing an indescribable ache.
A protective tenderness rose from deep within me.
I knew Hazel's family situation wasn't great—or rather, it was terrible. But still, I couldn't imagine that such a simple compliment would make her so grateful she'd cry uncontrollably.
I didn't want those maids seeing her tears. She'd already shown them enough strength. They didn't need to see her vulnerability too.
So I put my arm around her shoulder and led her out of the hall.
"Come with me."
Now it was dinnertime.
I sat at the head of the long dining table. Hazel sat tensely in the seat to my right.
Her hands rested nervously on her thighs, fingers twisted together, her gaze anxiously fixed on the shattered bone china plate in front of her.
This was my arrangement.
Starting today, I'd required Hazel to eat with me again in the main dining room.
Anya's response had been to throw her silverware directly onto Hazel's plate.
Anya stared at me with those eyes so similar to mine, filled with fury.
"What kind of joke is this? I will absolutely not eat at the same table as this disgusting woman."
I calmly picked up my wine glass and took a slow sip of the sharp liquid.
Then I looked at my proud daughter.
"Anya. Whether you like it or not, Hazel is my woman now."
Anya let out a furious, cold laugh. She strode over to a chair several seats from the head of the table, gripping the back hard with both hands.
"Your woman? You've completely lost it! Have you even considered my feelings? She was my best friend! And now you've got her in your bed! And you have the nerve to bring her to our table! You're humiliating me!"
I met her fury coldly.
"Anya, I've given you enough time to accept this. The world doesn't revolve around your emotions. And I certainly don't."
Anya's eyes instantly reddened, large tears swirling in them.
I rarely spoke this harshly to Anya. She'd been my only treasure for years.
Like every father in the world, I struggled with balancing my relationship with my precious daughter.
Especially since this daughter still resented me for her mother's death.
Before the tears could fall, my proud daughter raised her hand and wiped them away.
She glared viciously between me and Hazel, finally asking me directly.
"Have you forgotten her?"
I knew exactly who she meant.
Isabella. For years, the forbidden name that had stood between us.
I continued to stare coldly at Anya. Memories of Isabella were already making it impossible to control my emotions.
"Don't mention your mother in front of me. I'm saying this for the last time. Sit down."
Anya gave a cold smile.
"Enjoy your meal with your little mistress."
Then Anya grabbed the pure white napkin from her neck and threw it forcefully onto the plate.
"I'd rather die than eat at the same table as her."
Anya turned and stormed out of the dining room in her heels, not looking back. The heavy dining room door slammed violently behind her.
The entire room fell into absolute silence again.
Hazel sat beside me, completely frozen in shock, staring anxiously at the empty doorway.
I didn't get up to chase after her.
I would never compromise at a moment like this. If I backed down today, Hazel would never be able to hold her head up in this manor.
"Bring a new plate."
Evelyn efficiently removed the plate Anya had thrown the napkin at.
A fresh bone china plate was placed on the table.
"Mr. Gromov." Hazel's voice trembled badly. "I really shouldn't stay here."
I gripped Hazel's shaking fingers and repeated.
"You're my woman. Anya needs to accept reality. So do you."