Chapter 18
Hazel
Today was my hospital appointment day.
But I'd totally overslept.
My seven AM slot had come and gone—it was almost eight now. A full hour late.
The doctor's office had called to say they could push it back, but I was still frantic.
This checkup mattered.
The family doctor Edward had said I wasn't seriously hurt, just a sprained ankle mostly, but I needed to be sure. I needed to know the baby was okay.
I dragged myself downstairs, gripping the banister, taking it one painful step at a time.
Evelyn had been thoughtful. Since I'd moved into the manor, she'd arranged a driver for my appointments. Thompson—a good-natured middle-aged man who always showed up on time, never asked questions, and even brought me little snacks because he knew pregnant women got hungry.
But even the nicest person wouldn't appreciate being kept waiting an hour.
I was terrified Thompson had left. If he had, I'd have to call my own ride, which would take even longer.
I finally made it to the front door. Morning sunlight flooded the wide stone driveway. October in Los Angeles—the morning air had a chill, but the sun was warm. The fountain sparkled in the garden.
A familiar black sedan sat waiting.
Relief washed over me. He'd stayed. Mr. Thompson really was a good man. I owed him an apology. Maybe I could bring him something next time.
I limped toward the car and pulled open the back door, ready to grovel.
"I'm so sorry, I overslept—"
I froze.
Because sitting in the back seat was a man I knew all too well.
Viktor.
And Thompson sat rigid in the driver's seat, his usual friendly smile nowhere to be seen.
Thompson looked tense. So was I.
Viktor wasn't wearing his oppressive black suit today—he looked almost casual—but he was still Viktor. Just sitting there, he radiated deadly authority.
I stood by the open door, fingers twisting the hem of my cardigan.
What was Viktor doing here?
Since that humiliating sex, I hadn't been alone with him.
After the thing with Anya, I'd passed out quickly.
And while he'd visited every day during my recovery, I'd faked sleep each time. I could hear his footsteps pause by the bed, feel his eyes on me. But I'd kept mine squeezed shut.
I couldn't face him.
I hadn't figured out how to, not after everything. Seeing him just brought it all back—that degrading encounter, my pathetic confession.
And that dull ache radiating from my chest that I couldn't ignore.
Viktor's voice cut through my paralysis.
"Get in." He sounded like he'd also been waiting an hour.
I swallowed hard, forcing down the panic.
What was there to say? When Viktor gave an order, I never had a choice.
I dragged my injured ankle into the back seat and slowly closed the door.
The instant it clicked shut, the car became a sealed chamber.
The only sounds were my uneven breathing and that familiar scent coming off Viktor.
Thompson turned the wheel, and we rolled through the manor's iron gates.
I pressed myself against the door, hands clasped over my belly.
After a silence that nearly suffocated me, I tried to make conversation.
"So... no work today?"
Viktor was messing with something in his hands, not looking at me.
"I have business in that direction anyway. Figured I'd come along."
I turned away, frowning.
Come along?
With all the cars and drivers at the manor, what did he need to come along for?
But I didn't call out his lie.
I stared out the window at the passing scenery, forcing myself to stay calm.
The car glided smoothly down the highway. Soft classical music played. Viktor leaned back, his long fingers drumming a rhythm on his knee.
I could feel him glancing at me occasionally, but whenever I turned to look, he'd already looked away.
Ten minutes later, I realized something was wrong.
We weren't heading toward the southbound freeway entrance. We'd merged onto the express lane toward Beverly Hills.
Twenty minutes later, the Maybach turned into a quiet, tree-lined private area and stopped in front of a massive modern building made entirely of mirrored glass.
This wasn't any hospital I knew.
Too modern. Too expensive. That glass facade alone probably cost a fortune.
I turned to Viktor, confused and uneasy. "Where are we?"
"You'll see." Viktor pushed his door open.
The moment we stepped out, several medical assistants in tailored pale blue uniforms stood waiting by the elevator with a comfortable wheelchair.
Viktor came around to my side and opened my door.
"Out."
He grabbed my wrist.
"This isn't where I'm supposed to be." I shrank back in my seat, resisting. "My appointment's at the community hospital downtown."
"Today it's here."
I hesitated, intimidated by the luxury. This place screamed expensive—so expensive I wouldn't dare walk through the door. I'd always paid for my checkups with money I'd saved from work. Not much, but it let me keep some dignity.
But Viktor didn't give me a chance to refuse. He leaned in, slid one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, and lifted me out of the seat.
"Viktor—"
The sudden weightlessness made me cry out. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck.
No, this was too close. This intimacy made my heart hammer.
Viktor acted like nothing was happening. He carried me to the wheelchair and gently set me down.
I sat there helplessly as the medical staff surrounded me, and Viktor and I entered a private elevator.
We were shown into an enormous, luxuriously appointed examination room.
An elderly doctor with gray hair and a crisp white coat immediately stood up from behind a massive desk.
"Mr. Gromov." The doctor hurried over and gave a slight bow, like Viktor was royalty. Then he turned to me with a kind smile. "Miss Brooks, welcome. I'm Dr. Joseph Carter, head of obstetrics here."
"I've had all your medical records and checkup history transferred here," Viktor said, looking down at me from beside the wheelchair.
I stared at him, shocked. When had he done all this behind my back?
"Let's begin." Viktor ignored my shock and gave the doctor his order.
Dr. Carter nodded and turned to me with a warm smile. "Miss Brooks, please don't be nervous. We'll do a comprehensive exam to make sure you and the baby are both healthy. It'll be easy, and if you feel any discomfort, just let us know."
For the next two hours, I was treated like some precious, fragile artifact. Professional nurses wheeled me around the floor for various detailed tests.
The medical equipment was beyond anything I'd seen. Every procedure was gentle. The nurses' deference made me deeply uncomfortable.
And Viktor sat on a leather sofa in the exam room the entire time, looking nothing like someone who had business elsewhere and had just tagged along.
The doctors here worked fast. Or maybe when you had money, everything worked fast. Before long, Dr. Carter stood before Viktor with a thick stack of fresh reports, explaining every indicator in detail.
I sat in a nearby chair, feeling like an outsider listening to them discuss me.
"Miss Brooks's overall condition is stable. The fetus is developing very healthily." The doctor reviewed the reports, his tone careful. "Eighteen weeks along, all indicators within normal range. Excellent fetal heart rate. Amniotic fluid levels appropriate, placenta position normal."
Viktor nodded slightly, signaling him to continue.
"However," Dr. Carter paused, "she's sustained severe soft tissue contusions and skeletal misalignment recently.
While treatment has stabilized her, she needs rest. Her ankle ligaments are slightly torn and need at least four weeks to recover.
During this time, she should avoid prolonged standing and strenuous activity. "
Viktor asked many more questions—about pregnancy exercise, checkup frequency, possible complications... Each question careful, like he actually cared about the answers.
And me, the actual pregnant woman, was completely sidelined. I sat there listening to them discuss my body, my baby, unable to get a word in.
The checkup ended faster than expected.
But Viktor's surprises weren't over. Once we were back in the car, he immediately called Jack.
"Jack, I need an OB-GYN specialist arranged at the manor," he said curtly. "Edward's fine for injuries, but I don't trust him with pregnancy care."
He said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What could I say? "Thank you"? "Don't go to the trouble"? "I'm not worth it"?
I just stared out the window as time ticked by. LA scenery rolled past—palm trees, luxury cars, glamorous pedestrians. This city was always so bright, so prosperous, but I felt miles away from it.
I could guess why Viktor had suddenly upgraded my treatment. Probably because I'd saved Anya. Anya was his only daughter, his weak spot. I saved her, so he was repaying me—giving me the best medical care, the best treatment.
It made sense. It fit Viktor's style—clear about debts and favors, never stingy when repaying kindness.
There was nothing else in this upgraded treatment. No hidden meanings.
He wasn't doing this because he cared about me. Just because I'd done something worth repaying. Like he'd reward a subordinate who'd achieved something, give bonuses to loyal men. I'd just happened to save his daughter, so I got the corresponding compensation.
Understanding this actually made me feel lighter.
Yes. This was better.
This way I wouldn't have foolish fantasies. Wouldn't imagine like an idiot that he felt something special for me.
We had a transaction. Clean and simple, nothing else mixed in. He gave me protection and money, I gave him a child and sex. Now I'd saved his daughter, so he'd upgraded my treatment.
Simple as that.
Soon we were back at the manor. I pushed the car door open and climbed out slowly, dragging my injured ankle.
I didn't look at Viktor. After all these shocks, I just wanted to go to my room and rest.
Just then, Jack strode out from the main house.
"Viktor." Jack approached with a satisfied smile. "Everything you ordered is done. The inside's been cleared out and completely redone. Better than expected—I guarantee she'll love it."
What was done? What was redone?
I ignored their conversation and continued struggling up the steps. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with me.
"Hazel, come here." Viktor's voice came from behind, carrying that habitual command.
Damn it. Not done yet.
I stopped, dragged myself back down the steps, and walked over to Viktor.
"Follow me." Viktor didn't explain, just started walking.
I didn't ask questions. I followed silently.
We stopped at a set of wide walnut double doors at the end of the hall.
This used to be the largest unused storage room in the east wing. I'd passed it once when I got lost.
Viktor reached out, gripped the cold metal handle, and pushed down hard.
The heavy wooden doors swung open.
Noon sunlight poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, no longer blocked by heavy curtains, flooding the spacious room with brilliant light.
I stood in the doorway. When my eyes traveled past Viktor's shoulder and took in what was inside—
I froze completely.
This room that had been filled with junk and dust, this dark storage space, had been completely transformed into a professional, top-tier art studio.
In the center stood a heavy-duty professional easel, handcrafted from expensive black walnut. Beside it, a premium solid wood palette station and custom storage cabinets.
Along one wall, custom display racks lined up in neat rows, filled with hundreds of tubes of brand-new paint.
From basic colors to rare mineral pigments, all from the top European art supply brands I'd only seen in professional magazines.
All the paints were arranged precisely, obsessively, by color family, forming a spectacular wall of color.
I slowly turned to look at Viktor standing beside me, my eyes full of uncertainty and fear.
"Anya mentioned you like to paint," Viktor said, his voice calm. "This room was sitting empty anyway."
"This... this is for me?" I asked, my voice shaking.
I was afraid this was another one of his whims, another form of charity, another debt I could never repay if I accepted. Like if I spoke too loud, this beautiful dream would shatter and someone would tell me it was all a mistake, this studio was meant for someone else.
Before Viktor could answer, Jack piped up from behind us.
"Of course it's for you, Miss Brooks." Jack looked at me with a teasing tone. "You have no idea—Viktor gave me a death order a few days ago. I've barely slept since."
As he spoke, Jack's eyes traveled meaningfully between Viktor and me.
I heard Jack's words and stood there in complete shock.
Viktor had done all this... for me?
Viktor turned and shot Jack a cold glare—a clear warning.
Jack shrugged and wisely shut his mouth, retreating into the shadows of the hallway.
Viktor looked back at me, maintaining his usual cold demeanor, chin slightly raised.
"Go look around. Tell Jack what's missing."
I completely forgot about my ankle pain and hurried into the studio.
I walked to that massive wall of paint and reached out with trembling fingers to touch the tubes.
The solid feeling traveled from my fingertips.
This was all real.
I turned around to look at Viktor standing in the doorway.
He was watching me quietly. His mouth even curved up slightly in a rare smile.
That smile hit my heart like a bullet.
I didn't understand what Viktor was doing.
First he'd cruelly rejected and humiliated me, and now suddenly he was so good to me.
If this was just to repay me, it was another kind of cruelty.