Chapter 17
Hazel & Viktor
Hazel
I opened my eyes slowly, my vision swimming before it finally focused.
A blinding white ceiling. The sharp bite of disinfectant in the air.
My uninjured hand moved to my stomach on instinct. Still there—that slight curve. Through the hospital gown, I felt the baby's steady heartbeat.
"Don't worry. The baby's fine." A woman's voice beside me.
Relief flooded through me. I turned my head.
Anya sat at my bedside. She looked wrecked—eyes swollen and raw, hair a tangled mess over her shoulders.
Faint bruises shadowed her face. Adam's handiwork.
From the exhaustion weighing down her features, she'd clearly been here a long time.
"Hazel." My name came out thick with congestion.
I braced my hands against the mattress, tried to sit up.
Pain exploded everywhere—ribs, back, ankle. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.
Anya's hands shot out, catching my shoulders carefully. She propped soft pillows behind me.
The first time she'd reached for me in so long.
Joy sparked in my chest. I opened my mouth to thank her.
But when I turned to look at her, the words died.
Anya was crying. Fat tears rolling down onto the sheets.
I'd never seen her like this.
In my mind, she'd always been proud. Strong. Never weak in front of anyone.
I froze.
Something terrible must have happened to her.
"Anya, what's wrong?" My voice came out urgent. "Did Tyler and the others do something to you after?"
"I'm fine." More tears streamed down her face. "Hazel, I'm sorry."
Hearing she was okay loosened the knot in my chest.
Of course. I'd passed out, but Viktor had been there. With him around, Anya wouldn't have come to any more harm.
"This is all my fault. I was so careless." Anya sucked in a breath, fighting to steady her shaking voice. "That guy Thomas—he helped me a while back. Some thugs grabbed my bag, and he got it back for me. So I let my guard down."
She wiped at her tears, kept going. "Now I know they were hired by the Moretti family. They weren't just planning to film me—they were going to kidnap me outright. Use me to threaten Viktor."
"I knew it." Fear crawled up my spine. "That bastard Tyler wanted me to get close to you for some plan, but I never imagined it'd be this sick."
Anya dragged her hand across her cheeks, but fresh tears kept coming.
"Thank you." Her voice broke. "If it wasn't for you, last night would have destroyed me."
I watched the guilt and terror swimming in her eyes. Shook my head slightly.
"You're my best friend." My voice came out soft. "How could I let them take you?"
Anya buried her face in the sheets, shoulders shaking violently.
"I'm a complete piece of shit." She sobbed into the fabric. "After everything I did to you."
"I threw you out of my house. I ignored you in the hallways. I tossed your apology letters in the trash."
She listed every wound she'd inflicted, each word punctuated by sobs.
I looked down at my bandaged wrist.
"Don't feel guilty, Anya. I get it." My voice stayed quiet. "Your mother—she's the one thing you can't let go of. I know when you saw me with Viktor, you felt like I was taking her place."
I paused. "And you never really hurt me. Honestly, my time at the manor wasn't hard. Better than home, at least. Your place is clean and gorgeous. No rats skittering around at midnight."
Anya finally lifted her head, tears still on her face, but she laughed.
Then she threw her arms around me, tight.
"I knew you were innocent." She whispered near my ear. "I believed you. But I... I still couldn't accept it. I know that's selfish. I know I was torturing you. But I couldn't let it go. I've been twisted up inside, not knowing what to do."
"I know." I patted her back gently. "I know, Anya."
We held each other close.
In that disinfectant-soaked hospital room, every misunderstanding between us—all the distance, the anger, the pain—collapsed and turned to ash.
When Anya finally cried herself out, she pulled back from my shoulder, grabbed tissues from the nightstand, and scrubbed her face clean.
The second she let go, her expression shifted—complicated. She hesitated, then spoke.
"Viktor's been here too. Watching over you." Her voice dropped. "You woke up. I should go tell him."
She stopped. Added, "He cares about you. These past few days, he's been a mess."
That name killed what little joy I'd found in making up with Anya.
The bruises on my inner thighs and knees started throbbing—phantom pain from his rough handling.
Viktor's cold commands.
The contempt and disgust in his eyes when he looked at me.
Him announcing to all of Los Angeles's elite that I was his plaything.
The scenes replayed in my head on loop.
I pulled my hand from Anya's and clenched it at my side.
"He's just scared something happened to the baby." I couldn't help the edge in my voice.
"Did something happen between you two?" Anya asked carefully.
I sighed softly. No point hiding it now.
"I hope this doesn't make you angry, but I confessed to him." My voice stayed quiet. "I wanted to go to that party. I told him I liked him. That I wanted to be there as his girlfriend."
Anya gasped.
"And?"
"And he told me we're just a contract arrangement." I smiled, but tears ran down my face. "He said I'm just a contracted fuck buddy who signed on for money. He said I'm nothing."
I looked up at Anya's shocked expression.
"So it was all one-sided. Just me."
Anya went completely still, lips moving. Struggling to process it.
"God, I can't believe he'd say that." Her chest heaved with anger. "How could he use such vicious words to humiliate you!"
Anya shot to her feet, strode toward the door.
"No. I have to go confront him!" She declared.
"Don't, Anya." I reached out fast, grabbed her wrist hard. "There's really no point."
Anya turned. I met her eyes calmly.
"I've made my peace with it," I stated the fact flatly. "Not every feeling in this world has to have an ending."
I smiled through my tears and pulled Anya back down beside me.
"So don't worry." I squeezed her hand tight. "I did fall for him. But Viktor has zero interest in me. I won't steal your father away. Can we still be friends?"
Anya pulled me into a fierce hug and wiped away my tears.
"We've always been friends." Her voice came out firm. "No matter what you and Viktor are, we're friends."
I rested my head on Anya's shoulder, finally found some comfort.
At least I still had friendship.
I needed to let him go completely.
Viktor
"All cleaned up, Viktor."
Jack stood in my study doorway. No preamble. Just the bottom line.
"The entire Vance family. Every underground connection to the Tyler brothers. Every middleman who tried to cover for them." He paused. "All handled."
I nodded.
Tyler and his brother tried to drug and kidnap my daughter. On my turf.
That kind of move only had one ending—complete physical erasure. But it didn't touch the rage and irritation still burning in my chest.
The forces backing them—I wouldn't spare them either.
"One more thing." Jack's tone shifted, awkward. "I need to apologize to you, Viktor."
I looked up.
Jack rarely spoke to me like this. In twenty years, I could count his apologies on one hand.
"Most of the custom pieces Jimmy Brooks sold on the black market were fake knockoffs." Jack held my gaze. "The one real item—that ring—was lifted by an employee we fired. Stole it before leaving the manor."
He paused, his voice heavier. "This had nothing to do with Hazel. I misjudged the situation."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaled wearily.
Too late now. Jack's apology changed nothing.
"Leave me alone."
Jack left silently, closing the door softly behind him.
I sat at my desk, staring at the investigation report.
I had to face it.
I was wrong.
Every accusation I'd made against Hazel—gold digger, greedy, willing to do anything for money, working with her deadbeat brother to cash in—all of it was wrong.
I hadn't just falsely accused Hazel. I'd punished her brutally for it.
And when she confessed her feelings, I humiliated her. Used the most vicious words to degrade her dignity. Forced her to her knees, took her in the roughest way possible.
I'd deployed every weapon I had to crush her dignity, to trample her worth.
And Hazel endured that cruel abuse for one reason only—to protect Anya.
My heart felt squeezed in a vise. Each beat brought tearing pain.
What the hell was I doing?
Why did I rush to convict Hazel without any solid evidence?
I'd built my control over the West Coast underworld on cold calculation, reason, and ruthless judgment.
So why did I lose all control and rationality when it came to this girl?
I was a fucking idiot.
I'd destroyed—with the cruelest methods possible—a woman who'd given me everything.
By the time I pulled myself together, an hour had passed.
I headed straight for the manor's medical wing. I couldn't do anything useful, but I couldn't stay away from Hazel's side either.
I stopped outside her room. The door wasn't fully closed—a few centimeters of gap.
I slowed my breathing, peered through the crack.
Hazel was awake.
Anya leaned against the bed, gripping Hazel's uninjured hand tightly.
The two of them talked quietly.
I watched Hazel smile—genuine. That smile carried release and sadness both.
I stood there, watching the chestnut-haired girl through the gap.
And finally admitted it to myself—
I loved this woman.
Too bad I only figured it out after I'd stomped her heart into the ground.