Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anna
The next two days, the atmosphere in the manor was cold as ice.
Alexander and I put on forced smiles around Sofia, but in private we were like strangers.
He'd moved to the guest room, and aside from necessary exchanges, we barely spoke.
Every night, listening to footsteps from the study, I tossed and turned in that massive bed, replaying that evening over and over—Tatyana and him in intimate conversation, those glittering sapphire earrings.
Sofia was a perceptive child. Despite our efforts to hide it, she sensed the tension between us, and it frightened her. She walked on eggshells around us, those beautiful big eyes filled with confusion and anxiety.
On the third morning at breakfast, I finally reached my breaking point.
I set down my fork, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm going back to work at the paper."
Alexander's hand froze mid-cut through Sofia's pancakes. His expression darkened instantly.
"No," he said flatly. "It's not safe out there."
"I can't be trapped here forever," I argued. "I have a career, my work needs me."
"Your safety is more important than your job."
"This isn't protection, this is imprisonment!" My voice rose despite my efforts to control it.
Sofia looked at us fearfully, her small hands gripping her fork tightly.
"Mommy, Alex, please don't fight..." she whispered.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "Sofia, go play. Mommy and Alex need to discuss some grown-up matters."
Sofia was coaxed away by the housekeeper, looking back every few steps.
Once Sofia left, our argument escalated.
"I need to work, Alexander. I'm not your caged canary!"
"This is to protect you—"
"Protect?" I nearly laughed. "You call this protection? Letting me waste away here, destroying my career, turning me into some useless ornament?"
My voice kept rising. Three days of suppressed anger, hurt, and that suffocating sense of desperation all erupted at once.
"I know you want to protect me, but I need my life!" I slammed my hand on the table, making the dishes clatter. "I've been here a week. My colleagues are waiting, my stories are waiting, my whole life is waiting! And I'm stuck here like dead weight in this luxurious prison!"
Alexander was stunned by my sudden outburst. He stood to comfort me, but I stepped back.
"You don't understand!" Tears began to flow. "I spent five years building my career. I can't throw it all away because of some threats! I'm not the kind of woman who needs to be supported by a man!"
"Anna—"
"No!" I cut him off. "Let me finish! I appreciate your protection, but I can't lose myself because of it. If I can't work, can't be myself, then what's the point of living?"
My voice trembled, but anger made me fearless:
"I won't be your accessory! I won't be treated like some weakling who needs protecting! I'm Anna Parker, I'm a journalist, I have my own worth and dignity!"
Alexander watched me quietly, shock and other complex emotions I couldn't read flickering in his eyes.
The air was thick with tension as we stared at each other, neither speaking first.
Finally, he sighed deeply and conceded:
"Fine. But you must take bodyguards. And you can never leave their protection. That's the bottom line, Anna. Non-negotiable."
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. Though reluctant, it was the best compromise available. At least I could return to work.
The next day, I walked into the newsroom flanked by four bodyguards in black suits. Every colleague stared at me like I was an alien, whispers spreading throughout the office. I could feel their curious and shocked gazes burning into me, making me extremely uncomfortable.
The editor called me into his office, diplomatically suggesting that this kind of spectacle was disrupting normal operations.
"Anna, I understand you may be facing some... security issues," he said carefully, "but these bodyguards are making other employees nervous. Can you handle this situation?"
I awkwardly promised to deal with it, though I knew it was nearly impossible.
The afternoon interviews were a complete disaster. I'd arranged to meet an informant willing to expose government corruption, but when he saw those stone-faced bodyguards in black suits behind me, he went pale and fled with some excuse.
Every subsequent interview subject had the same reaction. Some even canceled over the phone just hearing voices in the background.
My work was completely paralyzed.
Standing on the street, watching the bodyguards maintain their emotionless vigil behind me, I finally exploded. I pulled out my phone and called Alexander.
"Are you satisfied now?" I launched straight into accusation. "I can't work at all!"
"Anna, calm down—"
"Calm down?" I nearly laughed. "My sources are all scared off, my colleagues are gossiping behind my back, my editor is questioning my professional competence. Is this the protection you wanted?"
"I just want to ensure your safety." His voice sounded weary.
"But you've ruined my work!" I accused. "I'm a journalist. I need to interact with all kinds of people, earn their trust. Now what? They see me and think I'm trouble incarnate!"
"Better that than you getting hurt."
"This isn't protection, it's control!" I said angrily. "You don't understand my work, and you don't respect my choices!"
"I won't compromise, Anna. Safety first, no exceptions."
With that, he hung up.
I stared at my phone in anger and despair, but the bodyguards continued to shadow me like four black specters.
I forced myself to calm down and began devising an escape plan. As a journalist, I'd learned how to get what I needed in difficult situations.
I deliberately feigned illness, clutching my stomach and saying I needed to go to the hospital for tests. Though nervous, the bodyguards couldn't prevent me from seeking medical care.
In the hospital's chaos, I seized the opportunity while changing into a patient gown to slip out the back door.
Finally able to move freely, I felt a long-lost sense of liberation. I arranged to meet my most important source—a government accountant who possessed key evidence of corruption.
We met at a secluded café on the outskirts of the city. The informant was nervous, constantly glancing around, but eventually provided the evidence I needed—recordings, photographs, and financial records.
"This is enough to bring down those corrupt officials," he said nervously, "but be careful—they have considerable influence."
I nodded, carefully securing the crucial evidence—enough to topple that accountant and perhaps expose the complex network behind him.
When I left, it was already late. Checking the time, I had only two hours before the evening news deadline. To save time, I chose a shortcut.
As I walked through a dimly lit alley, several figures emerged from the shadows, blocking my path.
The leader was a middle-aged man with a scar across his face, grinning menacingly as he approached. "Miss Anna Parker, someone gave you some dangerous materials. That wasn't very wise! For your protection, our boss has decided to invite you as his guest."
My heart raced as I realized the informant might have betrayed me. I tried to call for help, but one of them knocked my phone to the ground.
"Don't be nervous," the scarred man smiled coldly. "We just want to have a chat about some of your recent... inappropriate reporting."
I backed away, but more figures appeared behind me. I was completely surrounded.
"What do you want?" I tried to maintain my composure.
"It's simple," the scarred man said. "Stop your investigation, destroy all evidence, then quietly leave New York."
"And if I refuse?"
His smile turned more sinister. "Then don't blame us for not being polite."
Just as he reached out to grab me, footsteps echoed from the alley entrance.
Alexander appeared like an avenging demon from hell, followed by his fully armed men. His gaze was cold enough to freeze blood, seeming to drop the alley's temperature several degrees. He said nothing, but that murderous aura made everyone shudder.
The scarred man recognized Alexander, his face instantly draining of color. "Mr-Mr. Volkov, this is a misunderstanding—"
Before he could finish, Alexander's fist sent him crashing to the ground. Then he personally took down each man who had threatened me. His movements were clean and efficient, but brutally violent. Blood splattered against the walls, the scene too gruesome for me to watch directly.
Within minutes, every threat had been eliminated.
Alexander turned to me, trembling and shaken. I expected him to explode in anger, to blame me for acting alone. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled me into his arms with crushing force, as if trying to merge me into his very being.
I could feel his heart pounding like a drum, his hands trembling slightly. That fear and terror were genuine—not anger, but the fear of losing me.
We drove back to the manor in silence. I stole glances at his profile, noting his clenched jaw and the vein pulsing at his temple.
Halfway home, I finally spoke. "I'm sorry."
Alexander pulled the car over and turned to look at me.
"I admit I was too willful. I shouldn't have gone off alone," I continued. "I was jealous of... that woman, so I deliberately defied you. I shouldn't have done that."
He looked at me, the anger in his eyes beginning to fade.
"Tatyana is indeed my ex-girlfriend," he said simply, "but that's all in the past. I'm sorry I didn't consider your feelings, but now you're the only one in my heart. Other women mean nothing to me."
Hearing this clear explanation, tears immediately flooded my eyes. Three days of accumulated hurt, jealousy, anger, and fear found their outlet.
"I thought..." I choked out, "I thought you still loved her, I thought I was just a substitute, I thought those earrings represented her special place in your heart..."