Chapter 19
Hazel
"Get up! Get up right now, Hazel!"
Anya's voice echoed through the entire room.
Before I was fully awake, the bedroom door burst open. Anya marched straight to my bed and yanked off all the covers without hesitation.
The cold air of early autumn wrapped around me instantly. I shivered and reluctantly opened my eyes.
"Anya, it's only seven in the morning." I hugged my shoulders and complained loudly.
"Today is your twenty-third birthday!" Anya raised her voice, hands on her hips. "You have exactly ten minutes to get ready."
"Anya, I don't need a birthday." I tried to grab the covers back.
Birthdays had never been something I looked forward to. I didn't want one. I just wanted to be left alone.
"Cut the crap." Anya swatted my hand away, her eyes stern. "Starting today, you're celebrating every single birthday."
She didn't give me a chance to refuse. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of bed, pushing me all the way into the bathroom.
When I came out after washing up, three stylists with massive makeup cases were already standing in my bedroom.
For the next two hours, I was pinned to the vanity, completely stripped of bodily autonomy. They worked on my hair professionally, dabbing expensive cosmetics all over my face. Anya sat on the nearby sofa, sipping coffee while making harsh demands about every detail.
When the stylists finally stopped, Anya pulled me up and pushed me in front of the full-length mirror.
The girl in that mirror barely looked like me.
My chestnut hair, which I usually wore loose and messy, had been curled into natural waves that fell softly over my shoulders.
The freckles on my cheeks and nose that made me so self-conscious were cleverly concealed by sheer foundation—no longer jarring, but giving off a young, healthy glow instead.
"Let's go." Anya nodded with satisfaction and linked her arm through mine. "Today we're emptying out every mall in downtown LA."
The entire day, I was completely at Anya's mercy.
We rode in her flashy red Ferrari straight to Rodeo Drive. With her unlimited black card, Anya went on a shopping spree in all those luxury boutiques I never dared look at twice before.
She bought me an entire rack of the latest maternity wear, all kinds of expensive flats, jewelry, and handbags. Every time I tried to refuse or glance at the price tag, Anya would cut me off and tell the salespeople to wrap everything up immediately.
At noon, we had an extravagant French meal at a Michelin three-star restaurant that required three months' advance reservation. In the afternoon, she took me to LA's most exclusive private spa, where I lay on massage beds scented with essential oils, relaxing my muscles.
At first, I really was just going along to keep Anya company. But later, under her carefully selected treatments, I found myself immersed in the carefree pleasure of being with a good friend.
We laughed and shouted with joy, as if we were back in our school days.
It wasn't until evening, when the LA sky turned orange-red with sunset, that we finally headed back.
Anya and I sat in the car returning to the manor.
"Hazel." Anya suddenly turned to look at me, something complex in her eyes. "Happy birthday."
"You've already said that so many times." I smiled.
"I know. But I want to say it again." Anya took a deep breath. "And... I want to apologize to you again. These past days, I've been thinking about how to make it up to you, but I keep realizing that nothing I do is enough."
"Anya—"
"Let me finish." Anya interrupted me, her eyes reddening. "So I decided to tell you something today. Actually, before graduation, I secretly contacted that painter you really admire, and I sent her some of your work."
I froze, completely unprepared for Anya to have done such a thing.
"After she saw your paintings." Anya continued, excitement in her voice. "She said you have real talent. She agreed to let you be her assistant and learn from her. Girl, you did it."
Tears flooded my eyes instantly.
Emily Carter was my idol, the painter I'd always admired most. Meeting her was beyond my wildest dreams, let alone becoming her assistant.
"You... you really did that?" I choked out.
"I was planning to tell you at graduation." Anya smiled bitterly. "As your graduation present. But then..."
"It doesn't matter anymore." I shook my head hard, tears streaming down my cheeks. "It's all in the past. Let it go."
"Even though it got delayed." Anya pulled out her phone and showed me. "Ms. Emily Carter messaged again last month. She said she's still waiting for your reply. She's been waiting all this time. Hazel, I'm genuinely happy for you. You finally have a chance to pursue your dream."
I looked at those messages from Emily Carter on the phone screen, tears falling uncontrollably.
I knew this was all Anya's doing. She was so different from me.
I'd been beaten down for so long. My words had always been the butt of Saren and Jimmy's jokes, until I constantly denied myself, felt I wasn't good enough.
I never thought I could chase a dream. I never showed my interest in painting. Those simple sketches—I'd only ever shown them to Anya.
But she hadn't just looked at them. She'd remembered them.
She contacted the painter for me. She told Viktor to prepare a studio for me.
How could she say she hadn't done enough?
"Thank you, Anya." I cried. "If it weren't for you, I'd never have had the courage to do this."
"Don't say that." Anya cried too, reaching out to hug me tightly. "You have talent. You have dreams. You deserve the best. Never doubt that."
We held each other tight, like two sisters reunited after being lost.
After a long moment, we finally let go. Anya wiped her tears and broke into a smile.
Her eyes sparkled, looking so beautiful that I couldn't help reaching out to smooth her windblown hair.
"And... I have another surprise for you today." She said. "I've been thinking about it. This is the other thing you really need."
I blinked, looking at her in confusion.
"Another thing I really need?" I repeated. "What is it?"
"You'll see." Anya turned to look at me, her tone becoming serious. "I'll go park. You wait for me in the manor's backyard."
I looked at her in confusion. "Can't I just park with you?"
"Don't ask so many questions." Anya pressed her index finger to her lips, excitement flashing in her eyes. "Just listen to me."
I could only nod.
The two massive black iron gates of the backyard were tightly closed.
No one was around. Even the security personnel had disappeared somewhere. The driveway was empty. Anya's conspicuous red Ferrari was nowhere to be seen.
I leaned against the gate post and checked my watch—it was already late.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Anya's number. Only a cold mechanical voice answered. The phone you are trying to reach is powered off.
I lowered the phone, sighed, and turned to head back to the main house to look for Anya.
The moment I turned around, footsteps sounded behind me.
My spine went rigid. I stopped and turned around.
In the dim yellow streetlight, a tall figure was walking toward me.
Viktor Gromov.
I stood frozen, hands clasped anxiously over my belly.
"It's time." Viktor glanced at his watch, then looked directly at me. "Let's go."
"Go where?" I stepped back half a step, my back pressing against the iron gate. "I'm waiting for Anya."
Viktor watched me retreat, his brow furrowing slightly. He took a large step forward, completely invading my personal space.
"Don't bother waiting." Viktor looked down at me. "She's not coming."
My eyes widened.
"I'm the one who told Anya to bring you here." Viktor gave me the answer directly.
"Why?" The question burst out of me.
Viktor looked at my panicked face and suddenly reached out. I instinctively tried to dodge, but he moved too fast. His large, rough palm pressed against the side of my face, his fingers threading through my hair, gripping the back of my head, forcing me to look up into his eyes.
"Hazel." Viktor's thumb brushed gently across my cheek, his voice carrying rare helplessness. "Do you really need to be this afraid of me?"
"I thought..." My voice trembled. "I shouldn't get too close to you."
"Forget the stupid things I said that day, Hazel. I misunderstood you." Viktor dropped his hand from my face and stepped back half a step.
"Because your brother was selling things from the manor, I thought your confession was just part of his scam. That's why I said those things that day."
I froze.
"Selling?" I repeated the word, completely lost. "What do you mean?"
"Your brother Jimmy." Viktor's tone turned ice-cold.
"He stole and sold things from the manor, peddling fakes and stolen goods outside under the name of Hazel, the lady of the Gromov household.
I thought you were that kind of woman. I thought you getting close to me, confessing, even getting pregnant—it was all a con you two had cooked up together. "
Hearing this, I stood rooted to the spot.
So that was it.
That night, those cruel things he said—he'd said them because he thought I was scamming him. He thought my getting close to him, my confession, even the pregnancy—all of it was some scheme Jimmy and I had orchestrated.
"But..." My voice shook. "How could you think that of me... I had no idea Jimmy did those things..."
"I was wrong." Viktor's eyes softened. "The facts proved your brother's actions had nothing to do with you. You were innocent all along, and I treated you in the worst way possible."
I lowered my head, tears welling up.
"It's okay." I forced a smile. "I understand. I'm sorry my brother caused you so much trouble. What... what did you do to him?"
I was terrified of the answer, afraid Viktor would say he'd killed Jimmy. Even though Jimmy treated me terribly, he was still my brother.
"Don't worry. Beat him up and tossed him out." Viktor said tersely. "No life-threatening injuries."
I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.
"Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, I should go." I turned around, ready to leave.