Chapter 22
Viktor
I spent the night out.
Checked into a suite at the Hilton downtown, sat alone by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at the LA skyline at four in the morning until the sun came up.
I didn't know how to face Hazel.
I knew Valentina had arrived at the manor right on schedule. I knew Hazel must be losing her mind.
But I had no idea how to explain any of it.
How was I supposed to explain Valentina showing up? Less than a week after I proposed to Hazel, suddenly there's my so-called fiancée?
I wanted to hide, even though I knew it was pointless. Eventually, I'd have to go back and face this mess.
At seven a.m., I drove back to the manor.
The second I reached the main house, Valentina walked out of the side hall. She wore a tailored burgundy suit, makeup flawless, looking exactly like she had years ago.
"You didn't come home last night." She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me. "Guilty conscience?"
"You better keep your mouth shut." I walked past her.
"Viktor, you can't go soft on me now." She stopped me, her tone leaving no room for argument. "If you want to protect her, we do this right. Today, I'm making my position official."
I stopped and turned back.
"Now?"
"Right now. You better be ready." Valentina locked eyes with me.
No matter how much I dreaded it, ten minutes later every key member of the manor had gathered in the hall.
Evelyn, Jack, the guards, maids, cook, the head housekeeper and steward—all lined up on either side. I sat on the center sofa. Valentina stood beside me, hand resting lightly on the back of the sofa.
Then I saw Hazel.
She walked in with Anya. Anya glared at me, eyes full of disappointment and disgust. Hazel stood behind her, head down, pale as death.
She looked like she hadn't slept all night. Dark circles under her eyes, lips cracked and dry, body trembling slightly.
You could see exactly how hard Valentina's arrival had hit her.
I wanted to stand up. Wanted to walk over and hold her, tell her this was all fake.
But I clenched my fists and forced myself to stay put.
"Everyone, I've called you here to make an announcement.
" Valentina smiled at the assembled staff, her voice echoing through the hall.
"From today forward, I'll be taking over day-to-day operations of Gromov Manor in my capacity as Viktor's fiancée.
All external social arrangements, guest lists, and internal staff coordination will go through me.
Evelyn, you'll copy me on your daily reports. "
Evelyn bowed slightly, maintaining her professional demeanor, raising no objections.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"
Anya was the first to protest. She stormed forward from the crowd, pointing at Valentina's face, furious.
"This is Gromov Manor, not your East Coast trash heap! What gives you the right to take over?" Anya whipped around, glaring at me, eyes red. "Viktor, you're just going to sit there and let this bitch run wild? Hazel's standing right here."
I sat on the sofa, expression blank, watching my daughter.
"Watch yourself, Anya." I lowered my voice. "Valentina is your elder. She's my fiancée. She has every right to manage these affairs."
"Your fiancée?" Anya laughed bitterly. "Then what the hell is Hazel? What kind of monster are you?"
"Anya, try acting like an adult." Valentina chimed in, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "This is LA. Plenty of men have two wives behind closed doors. Besides, she's not the only one carrying Viktor's child."
The moment Valentina finished speaking, the entire hall fell into deathly silence.
Every eye darted between Valentina's flat stomach and Hazel's swollen belly. Jack stood in the corner, brow furrowed tight.
I couldn't help looking at Hazel.
She stood there, body trembling, hands clutched protectively over her stomach.
She stared at everything in confusion, like she couldn't process any of it.
My heart twisted violently.
Even I'd only found out about Valentina's pregnancy three days ago.
The father was some minor East Coast musician. They'd broken up ages ago. The main reason she agreed to fly to LA and play shield for me was simple—she needed me to give her baby the Gromov name.
I'd agreed.
Because it was the only way to get Valentina on board.
"Aren't you going to explain?" Anya's voice cut through my thoughts. She stared at me, tears pooling in her eyes. "Viktor, tell me this isn't real."
I looked at Anya's hate-filled eyes and felt a dull, physical ache in my chest.
But I couldn't explain.
"Enough!" I shot to my feet, strode up to Anya, towering over her. "Shut your mouth, Anya. Every decision I make has a reason. You don't need to understand."
"I don't need to understand?" Tears finally spilled down Anya's face. She shook her head hard. "I'm ashamed you're my father."
Anya turned and walked toward Hazel. My eyes followed her movement.
Hazel finally lifted her head. She looked at me. Those amber eyes that used to be so warm, so full of hope—now they were completely hollow.
Empty. No focus, no emotion. Just barren, dead silence. Like a shell stripped of its soul, mechanically standing there, breathing, living, but no longer herself.
That hollow stare cut deeper than any screaming accusation could. It pierced straight through my defenses, twisting my nerves, making it almost impossible to breathe.
Anya grabbed Hazel's hand and led her out of the hall.
Hazel didn't resist. She followed Anya numbly, step by step, until she disappeared from my sight.
I stood in the center of the hall, watching their backs vanish around the corner.
This is the price. I repeated it over and over in my head.
Hurting her was the only way to protect her. Better she hate me than die at Adam's hands. This was the only choice I had. Even if she never forgives me, as long as she's alive, that's enough.
The hall emptied quickly. Jack glanced at me, sighed, and left too, closing the double doors behind him.
Only Valentina and I remained.
Valentina walked to the bar and poured herself a soda. She turned, leaned against the counter, studying me with curious eyes.
"Looks like she took it pretty hard." Valentina took a sip. "Viktor, you sure she can handle this kind of pressure?"
"As long as she's alive, that's enough," I said coldly. "Just do your part, Valentina."
Valentina shrugged and set down her glass. "You should go comfort her."
But I couldn't face Hazel right now.
I didn't know if I could keep up this cold mask in front of her. I was afraid that one look at her tears and I'd spill everything.
And that would only get her killed.
I turned to head for the study, but my feet carried me toward Hazel's bedroom instead.
The door was shut tight. No sound came from inside. I stood at the door, hand gripping the cold metal handle, frozen there for two full minutes.
I wanted to push open that door, pull Hazel into my arms, tell her this was all an act, tell her I'd never touch anyone but her.
But I couldn't.
Adam Moretti wasn't an ordinary enemy. That old fox controlled Boston's most massive underground network. Ruthless, capable, and he hated me down to his bones.
Even for me, the odds of beating him were fifty-fifty at best.
I had to make Hazel look like a discarded contract mistress with no value left in this manor.
Only then could she survive.
I released the handle and forced myself to walk away.
For the next solid week, I launched a brutal reckoning against the Moretti family.
I threw everything into this West Coast gang war. Seven days straight, out at dawn, back after dark—sometimes sleeping in the downtown safe house. I didn't let myself think about Hazel's empty stare. I channeled all my rage, fear, and guilt into bullets aimed at Moretti operations.
By the time I dragged my exhausted body back to the manor, a week had passed.
The manor was silent. Dim yellow light from the wall sconces lined the hallway.
I didn't let anyone follow me into the main house. Walked alone toward the study.
Sharp pain in my chest made every step agony. Under the bulletproof vest, my ribs were definitely badly bruised, massive purple-black spreading across my skin.
I pushed open the study door without turning on the lights. Only faint moonlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I walked to the desk, braced both hands on the surface, gasping for air. Cold sweat soaked through my tactical shirt, fabric clinging to my skin, irritating as hell.
I caught my breath, then started stripping off my tactical gear.
In the moonlight, I looked down at my torso.
From my right ribs all the way to the center of my chest—one massive, horrifying purple-black bruise. The center was swollen high. Even breathing sent sharp, stabbing pain through the bone.
Just as I was about to find painkillers in the medical kit, the study door handle turned quietly.
Then the door opened. Hazel stood in the doorway.
I froze.
A week's worth of suppressed longing crashed over me like a tidal wave, nearly drowning me.
Hazel showing up here at this hour meant she'd been waiting in her bedroom, waiting until midnight. Heard my footsteps turn into the study and came straight in.
"You're hurt." Hazel's gaze landed on my chest, stating the fact, tone giving nothing away.
"I'll live." I forced myself to suppress the longing in my chest and answered coldly. "What are you doing in the study in the middle of the night?"
Hazel didn't answer my question. Instead, she stepped forward two paces, stopping a meter from the desk.
She looked me straight in the eye, those amber eyes holding an unfamiliar stubbornness.
"Who is Valentina? What happened between you two?" She cut straight to it. "I want the truth."
I braced my hands on the desk. The sharp pain in my chest made me frown involuntarily, but I forced my expression to stay neutral.
"Valentina's backed by the Rossi family.
" I looked at her, tone cold and businesslike.
"They control the biggest armed force on the East Coast. Adam's making bigger and bigger moves out West. I'm in an all-out war with him.
Publicly aligning with the Rossi family through marriage locks down my weapons supply line and uses their political connections to keep the cops out of it. This is a political alliance."
I paused, locking eyes with her.
"I have no feelings for her." I straightened up. "The only person I love is you."
Hazel looked at me, pain and confusion flashing through her eyes.
"If you love me, why not just make my position public?" Her voice rose, thick with emotion. "If you and her are just politics, why did you get her pregnant?"
Seeing her pain, I felt my defenses crumbling, but I had to keep up the act.
This pretense was its own kind of cruelty—to me.
"Isn't loving you enough?" I let out a cold, aggressive laugh.
I walked around the desk, strode up to her, backed her against the bookshelf. Trapped her completely in my arms.
"I let you live here. I gave you the best medical team. I keep you absolutely safe. I'm good to you." I stared at her pale face, fury and exhaustion tangled in my chest. "Even if she's pregnant, it doesn't change your place in my heart. That's enough. Can you just be reasonable?"
Hazel didn't need to know my plans.
She just needed to stay safe in this cage, do what I told her. More explanations were pointless. Even if she knew about Adam, it would only add to her fear without helping anything.
"Be reasonable?" Hazel repeated my words. Tears finally slid down her cheeks.
That tear felt like it landed on my heart.
I wanted to kiss her.
I wanted to press her against the bookshelf, tear off that damn nightgown, show her my love in the most primal way.
My hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her roughly toward me. I lowered my head, lips almost touching hers.
But in the last second, reason pulled me back.
I stopped, forehead pressed against hers, gasping hard.
"Stop this. Go back to your room." My voice came out ragged. "Now."
Hazel stared at me, tears still on her face.
"Go!" I jerked back, turned away, couldn't look at her anymore.
In the darkness, Hazel suddenly laughed coldly. Then her footsteps moved away. The study door slammed shut.
I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at LA's endless night, chest heaving violently.
I didn't need her to understand.
I just needed her alive.