Chapter Thirty-Two
Mind y
My bladder wakes me up in the middle of the night.
Still half-asleep, my first instinct is to reach for Maron's comforting presence, but the space next to me is cold and empty. I open my eyes and when they finally get used to the darkness, I realize he's not in bed.
Feeling a sense of unease, I glance at the clock: 1:46 AM. I wait a few minutes, assuming he’s gone to use the bathroom, but when he doesn't return, I get up. I walk to the bathroom door and turn on the light. He's not there either.
After taking care of my needs, I crawl back into bed, but sleep eludes me. Where could he have gone in the middle of the night? I slide from beneath the covers, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. I reach for my pink silk robe, drawing it around my body like a protective shield. On a whim, I grab my phone from the nightstand, slipping it into the pocket of my robe.
The mansion is dark and silent as I step out into the hallway. The only sound I hear is the soft padding of my footsteps on the polished floors. The corridors stretch out before me like a labyrinth, a maze of twists and turns that seem to go on forever.
I wander aimlessly, the feeling in my heart growing heavier with each passing moment. The grandeur of Maron's home, which had seemed so inviting and luxurious in the light of day, now feels cold and somehow foreboding.
"Cordelia?"
I jump at the sound. It is coming from not too far from me.
"Cordelia?" The voice rings out again. It sounds shaky and elderly and it's moving closer to me. "My dear, are you here?"
Shit!
What are you doing out here anyway, Mindy?
I should just go back to the room and wait for Maron to come back to bed. But when I turn a corner, I shriek as I almost bump into an elderly woman. She is half-dressed in an open gown with a dragging belt. She notices me and moves closer. Her cloudy eyes peer at me, but they light up with hope when she recognizes me. "Cordelia?" she whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and confusion. "Is it really you, my dear?"
My heart is hammering against my chest as I try to make sense of this strange encounter. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I’m not Cordelia," I manage, my voice sounding small and uncertain in the vast emptiness of the hallway. "My name is Mindy."
The woman blinks, her brow furrowing as if she’s trying to make sense of my words. "Mindy?" she echoes, her tone laced with disappointment. "But you look so much like her. So much like my sweet Cordelia."
That is when understanding dawns and it hits me like a ton of bricks. Cordelia. I recognize the name. She is Maron's daughter who passed away. So, this elderly woman can only be Maron's mother, looking for her granddaughter. Can it be possible that she has no idea that her granddaughter died a long time ago?
I really don't know what to say to her. I’m just about to take her hand and guide her back to her room when suddenly, I hear a sound from the other end of the corridor. Footsteps. Heavy, purposeful. Drawing closer with each passing second.
"Mother," a familiar voice calls out, and I feel a jolt of recognition. It's Timofey, Maron's brother. Maron introduced us to each other at the birthday party.
He takes a step towards us, his eyes flickering between the old woman and I. "Oh, hey, Mindy. Sorry for the confusion." He looks at the lady. " Moya dorogaya Mama . Let’s get you back to your room. It's the middle of the night."
"Who are you?" she asks Timofey.
He shakes his head. "Fuck… Mom, you're confused again. I'm your son." He gently takes her by the arm and sighs. "Sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to be rude. I'm just sleepy. Let's go back to your room."
But the old woman shakes her head and stares at me. Her eyes are wide with desperation and excitement. "Cordelia is here," she insists, her voice trembling with a childlike petulance. "We can’t just leave her here."
Timofey glances at me and sighs. " Davay, Mama. Don’t be stubborn," he says gently, reaching out to take her arm. "She's not Cordelia. Her name is Mindy, and she is… " He hesitates for a second, "Maron's wife."
Maron's wife.
The words feel strange and pleasant at the same time.
I glance at Timofey as he stands there, looking pretty clueless about what to say to his mother, and a thought crosses my mind. Since the old lady is so convinced that I'm Cordelia, I decide to have a little play with her - maybe it will calm her down. I step closer and look into her eyes, patting her hand reassuringly.
"Yes, I am Cordelia," I tell her, trying to keep my voice as soothing and childlike as possible. Looks like those vocal control lessons I took when I was a kid are proving to be useful in more ways than just one because the old lady visibly calms down. When she’s looking at me intently, I add, "I'm going to bed now, grandma. You should rest too." I even pretend to yawn for maximum efficiency. I gently pat her shoulder and my heart aches for her. She’s so frail and confused. "Timofey will see back to your bedroom." I wave at her. "Goodnight, Grandma. I’ll see you tomorrow," I say, punctuating it with another yawn.
She looks at me and her lips curl into a smile. For a short moment, she looks like she’s found her way back here from a faraway dimension. "Ah, good," she replies, visibly relieved. "See you tomorrow, my dear." With that, she turns and starts walking away, muttering, "Cordelia, my dear child."
Timofey looks at me with confusion in his eyes. "This is… how did you do that? My mother has been so stubborn lately. I haven't seen her so calm and obedient for a long time." He scrutinizes me. "Thanks, Mindy."
I give him a half smile. "Sometimes all it takes is a little understanding."
Timofey's gaze runs over my pink silk robe with a knowing glint. I feel a flush of embarrassment, realizing that he must know I've spent the night with Maron.
"Were you looking for something?” He asks. “Can I help?"
"Oh, it's alright," I manage. "I was just... looking for Maron. But I think I know where he is."
It's a lie, of course. I have no clue where Maron is, and why he disappeared from bed in the middle of the night.
Timofey nods, his expression unreadable. "I see," he says, his tone carefully neutral. "Well, good night, then." He hesitates for a moment, his gaze searching mine. "I'll go check if my mother found her way back to the bedroom."
As Timofey disappears into the darkness of the corridor, I heave a sigh. This was bizarre. Just shows how life can be both brutal and beautiful at the same time. My thoughts drift to my own mother, and tears begin to form in my eyes.
Feeling sleepy and somewhat frustrated, I decide to go back to the bedroom. Maron might already be back himself, wondering where I could be. I don’t even know what I was doing out here looking for him. I should have stayed in bed and waited for him to come back on his own.
I pivot on my foot, prepared to backtrack and seek refuge in the comfort of the bedroom. Walk a few feet in the direction I came from, then turn left, a few more feet straight, then a right, and then… With each step I take, I begin to realize that I have no clue where I came from. I take another right and find myself somewhere completely unfamiliar.
Way to go, Mindy.
Lost in the middle of the night, in the Bratva boss’ palace.
But what’s done is done. I silently curse myself for leaving the bedroom, but the situation speaks for itself: I’m hopelessly lost in this labyrinth of corridors.
I look around and nothing seems familiar anymore. I must have reached a part of the mansion where I hadn’t been before. The wide-open spaces seem to stretch out impossibly before me, like a never-ending maze of identical hallways and closed doors. I turn down one hallway, then another, my anxiety increasing with every unfamiliar corner and dead end.
Unbelievable.
I stop again and stand there like an idiot, trying to figure out how on earth I’m going to get back to the bedroom. That is when I hear someone speak.
Finally, a real person!
Maybe they can help.
The voice belongs to a man. Or men. It is barely audible first, coming from behind a closed door. There are also thuds. Then, there’s another man's voice that sounds familiar. I recognize Pavel's deep baritone.
Bingo.
I creep closer to the door, hoping that Pavel will save my ass and guide me back to where I came from. But as I get closer and closer to the source of the sound, I begin to hesitate. Something in me is telling me this isn’t such a good idea after all. But before I can think better of it, my ear is pressed against the heavy wooden door.
I strain to hear over the pounding of my heart. There are several men in the room. There is one voice groaning in pain while the rest shout in anger. The words are difficult to make out, but I can hear the anger and frustration in Pavel's tone.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Oleg?" I hear him say, "You know you're not allowed to drink on duty."
Another thud rings out. "Aaaaah ," a voice cries. " Pozhaluysta , Pavel, don't hurt me!"
The next moment, the door swings open and a man storms out. His footsteps echo down the empty corridor as I stare after him. I hold my breath in my throat as I try to hide in a dark corner, praying he didn't spot me. But the door is now open enough for me to take a peek inside. And what I see makes my blood run cold.
A naked man is bound to a chair. His face is a pulpy mess of blood and bruises. He slumps in despair, resigned to the agony that awaits him. I recognize Pavel as the man who looms over him. The air crackles with tension as Pavel prepares to unleash his brutal wrath upon the helpless man.
But it's the figure standing in the corner that makes my heart stop in my chest.
No.
Maron is watching the scene unfold with a detached, almost bored expression on his face. His arms are crossed over his chest and his posture is relaxed. It's as if the brutality playing out before him is nothing more than a mildly interesting diversion, a way to pass time.
Oh my God!
I feel a wave of nausea rising in my throat as a sense of horror and disbelief washes over me. This can't be happening. This can't be the man I'm falling for. And the man I've just agreed to move in with, leaving my life behind to play the role of his wife.
"What the fuck did you expect, Oleg?" Maron seethes, dripping with disdain. "A pat on the back and a bouquet of flowers? That ship was carrying millions worth of cargo, you idiot!"
"I… I’m sorry, Boss. I know it was foolish," the man in the chair cries.
"Sorry isn’t going to bring my cargo back, mudak ," Maron snaps. "But if you tell us exactly what happened, you just might survive. Now, start talking!"
I feel like I’m going to be sick. I continue to listen, barely believing what I’m witnessing. It’s like I’m in a bad dream. I even pinch my arm to wake myself up. Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t work.
"Alyosha had a son born," Oleg mumbles, his split lip dribbling blood down his chin. "My deputy captain. He… he opened a bottle of vodka, and we celebrated. You know how it is, boss… more of the crew members joined, and… we had a few too many."
Maron's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching with barely contained rage. I can see the fury simmering beneath the surface.
"And?" He urges Oleg.
"There were some girls working on the ship," Oleg continues, "and… well, you know. We were drunk, and… by the time I woke up, it was too late. I… I tried to steer us away from the iceberg, but… Mne ochen' zhal' Pakhan. Please forgive me.”
Maron scoffs and says something to Pavel in Russian. All I see is that the man named Oleg drops his head, and his shoulders slump in defeat. The room falls silent, and the weight of the last spoken words hangs heavy in the air. For a long moment, no one speaks, no one moves. And then, like a coiled snake unleashing its venom, Maron strikes.
He's across the room in an instant, his hand wrapping around Oleg's throat. His face is a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.
"You stupid, selfish, pathetic piece of shit," he roars. "Do you have any idea what you've done? What it's going to cost me?" He kicks him, and Oleg hisses in pain. “Of course, you fucking don't!"
Oleg doesn’t say a word. Not that he could with Maron’s hand around his throat. He gasps and sputters, his eyes bulging as he tries to claw at Maron's iron grip. But there's no mercy in those cold, ruthless eyes, no hint of compassion or forgiveness.
"I trusted you," Maron snarls, his fingers tightening around Oleg's windpipe. "I gave you one fucking job. Get the ship from A to B. Paid you more money than you deserve. And you decided that having drunken sex with a whore was more important than doing your fucking job." He leans in closer, his lips nearly brushing against Oleg's ear. He shakes his shoulders. "You've ruined everything, you asshole. And now you're going to pay the price."
With a final, brutal squeeze, Maron tightens his hold around Oleg’s throat. It all happens quicker than my mind can comprehend. All I hear is a noise that sounds like a crack, and Oleg stops moving. Then, Maron releases his grip, letting Oleg’s body slump to the ground. He then turns to Pavel, his expression as cold and hard as granite. "Get rid of the body," he orders, his voice flat and emotionless.
Oh, dear God!
This can’t be real!
I can’t believe what I just witnessed. My stomach lurches violently, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. My whole body is shaking, and cold sweat is breaking out across my skin. The world around me feels unsteady, and I have to brace myself against the wall to not faint.
Pavel nods to Maron, his expression impassive. "Consider it done, boss." He reaches for Oleg's broken body, and he starts to drag him towards the door.
I should run while I can, but I can’t get my legs to move. So, I lean against the wall and sink down to sit on the floor. I’m at a point where I don't even care if Maron sees me. He can come and break my neck too for all I care. Maybe everything would be much simpler that way.
Betty was right!
How could you have been so stupid, Mindy?
Are you really so blind and naive?
He even told you that he’s the head of the Bratva!
What the hell did you expect, goddamnit?
The bottom line is, Maron showed his true colors tonight. The man who swept me off my feet with his power and magnetic presence is a cruel monster. A notorious criminal. A ruthless, calculating mob boss who will stop at nothing to protect his empire and his profits. Even if he has to torture and kill people. He wasn't just born into the Bratva. He is the Bratva.
I guess Betty’s gossips are true, after all. Global Media is nothing more than a smokescreen to hide the brutal reality of Maron's real business, whatever that is. Drugs, weapons, maybe even human lives traded like cattle. And what about that launch he was talking about? Tramoxine? Is that a part of his illegal activities too?
I still feel sick. It’s like the ground is shifting beneath my feet and the walls are closing in around me.
How?
How could you allow yourself to be involved in this, Mindy?
The signs were all there, the red flags waving in the wind. The mysterious disappearances, the hushed conversations, the air of danger and secrecy, all of those things cling to Maron like a second skin.
I should have seen it coming. I should have trusted my instincts, listened to the warnings in my head screaming at me. But I didn't. Why? Because my body, my heart, and my stupid libido betrayed me. All I saw was the sexy, powerful man, pulling me in like a magnet…
And now?
Now I’m in the midst of a criminal organization.
And I’m not sure I can ever escape from it.