Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kholod
I turned off the shower, water droplets falling from my fingertips. Noelle slumped against me, eyes closed, lashes still damp with water. Her whole body was limp and helpless—without my support, she would have collapsed to the floor.
Wet hair clung to her flushed cheeks, her skin still flushed from passion, covered in red marks—neck, shoulders, chest, waist... all my doing.
Damn. I'd thought I'd feel satisfied after venting, that I'd enjoy the revenge. But all that remained in my chest was a hollow emptiness, as if I'd lost something precious.
"Noelle?" I called softly.
No response. I lifted her chin. Her eyes remained closed, breathing steady—she'd fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Understandable. After today's shock and what had just happened, she'd reached her breaking point.
I bent down and lifted her into my arms. She was so light it made my chest constrict. She'd been eating properly these past weeks, but still hadn't put on much weight. Walking out of the shower, I grabbed a clean towel from the nearby rack and wrapped her entirely in it.
She stirred slightly in my arms, letting out a sleepy murmur.
"It hurts..."
Just two words, but it cut through me like a dull blade.
I pushed open the bathroom door. Darya was waiting outside.
"Have the doctor stand by... get Emily," I said. "Prepare ointment and painkillers."
"Yes, boss."
"Also," I paused, "prepare warm milk and easily digestible food. Bring it when she wakes."
"Yes."
Carrying her through the corridor from bathroom to bedroom, her head rested against my shoulder, warm breath brushing my neck. The sensation was contradictory—moments ago I'd been brutal with her, yet now I was handling her with utmost care, terrified of causing more pain.
I laid her gently on the bed. She curled up, brow furrowed, clearly still in pain. Her lips were swollen and torn from my bites, finger marks vivid on her neck—stark reminders of how much force I'd used.
"Shit." I cursed myself under my breath.
A knock at the door.
"Boss, the doctor's here."
"Come in."
Emily entered with her medical bag. Seeing Noelle on the bed, sympathy flickered across her face.
"Boss, I need to examine Mrs. Morozov's injuries."
"Go ahead." I stood and walked to the window.
Behind me came the sounds of the medical kit opening, Emily quietly asking Darya to assist, and Noelle's pained whimpers when her injuries were touched. Each sound pierced my heart.
"Boss, Mrs. Morozov's external injuries aren't severe—mainly bruising and abrasions. I've applied medication. However..."
"What?"
"Mrs. Morozov's very weak," Emily chose her words carefully. "She needs proper rest. For at least a week, she shouldn't engage in any... strenuous activities." The final words were barely whispered.
"Understood. You may go."
"Yes." Emily packed up and left.
Darya was about to leave as well when I stopped her.
"Have the kitchen prepare more nourishing broths. What are her preferences?"
Darya considered this. "Mrs. Morozov seems to prefer light flavors—nothing too oily or heavily spiced."
"Then keep it light." I paused. "Also, bring up all her travel magazines."
"Yes."
After the door closed, I returned to sit beside the bed. I reached out to smooth her furrowed brow, but my fingers froze just before making contact.
What right did I have to touch her? I'd just treated her like a beast. Even if she'd eventually surrendered and responded, it was only because I'd forced her to.
"I'm sorry."
The words felt foreign on my tongue.
Kholod Morozov never apologized.
But now, seeing her body marked and wounded because of me, the words emerged unbidden.
What good were apologies? Could they erase the marks on her body? Could they undo what I'd just done to her?
No.
I stood and walked toward the door.
"Rest well," I told her sleeping form, then turned and left.
"Boss, he's downstairs." Dmitri waited at the entrance to the underground passage.
"What's his condition?"
"Still alive."
"Lead the way."
We descended the narrow spiral staircase, the air growing progressively colder and damper, thick with the mingled scents of blood and disinfectant.
This was the manor's deepest basement, prepared for special circumstances, buried so far underground that even a nuclear blast couldn't reach it. At the end stood a massive steel door.
Dmitri pushed it open. The metallic tang of blood hit me immediately.
Lorenzo hung suspended by chains in the center of the room, toes barely grazing the ground. His clothes had been torn to shreds, revealing a torso covered in wounds—whip marks, burns, knife cuts, layered upon layer.
His face was even worse—swollen eye sockets, shattered nose, lips beaten nearly to pulp.
He hung his head, breathing barely perceptible.
"Is he conscious?"
"Intermittently," Dmitri reported. "We administered adrenaline, but he won't last much longer."
I approached him and lifted his chin.
His eyes opened to mere slits, pupils dilated and unfocused.
"Lorenzo Conti," my voice echoed in the empty chamber. "I'm going to ask you several questions. Answer truthfully, and I'll grant you a quick death."
His lips moved, producing indistinct sounds. "...kill me..."
"I will. But first," I released his chin, "tell me who orchestrated today's events."
"...don't know..."
"Don't know?" I picked up pliers from the nearby table. "Perhaps you need more encouragement."
I clamped the pliers around his right index fingernail and yanked hard.
"AHHHHH—!!!"
His screams filled the room as he convulsed violently, chains clanking.
"I'll ask again. Who arranged it?"
"It was... Isabella..." he babbled deliriously. "She said... Noelle wanted to see me... said she had a surprise for me..."
My hand froze.
"What did you say?"
"It was... Isabella..." he repeated incoherently.
"Speak clearly." I leaned in closer.
"She... called five days ago... said Noelle missed me... told me to come to Rittenhouse..." His words came in broken gasps. "She said... everything was arranged..."
"And then?"
"I went... wanted to take her away... but she kept refusing... begging me not to do anything stupid..."
I suddenly recalled the scene at the restaurant—Noelle had indeed been struggling, looking terrified, constantly trying to push him away...
"But Isabella said..." he mumbled, "she said Noelle was refusing with her words... but really wanted to see me... said women always say the opposite of what they mean..."
Fuck.
The pliers clattered to the floor.
Dmitri approached me. "Boss?"
"Have the doctor treat his wounds," I turned and strode out. "Don't let him die. I still have use for him."
"Yes."
Racing through the corridor, I went straight to my study and yanked out the stack of investigation reports on Isabella from the drawer.
I flipped through page after page. Nanny testimonies, jewelry store records, hospital documentation, shopkeeper identifications—every piece of evidence was flawlessly airtight.
Too flawless.
I suddenly remembered that after my meeting with Kieran, I'd ordered Dmitri to increase surveillance and intelligence gathering around the manor perimeter.
Isabella's visits had been so frequent, and after each one, something unpleasant invariably occurred between Noelle and me.
Especially this "surprise" she'd arranged—it had nearly obliterated Noelle's last foothold in my heart.
Then there were Mother's and Anya's warnings—stay away from that woman. She was too perfect, perfect to the point of being unreal.
Yet the evidence before me indicated she was my savior. Someone who'd extended help in my hour of need should harbor good intentions.
But what if... she wasn't that person at all?
"Damn it!" I slammed my fist on the desk.
I grabbed the phone and dialed Dmitri.
"Reinvestigate Isabella Vance. Bypass all witnesses she provided, avoid any leads that could have been compromised. Start from the beginning—where exactly was she that Christmas Eve three years ago?"
"But the previous investigation..."
"Do it over!" I bit out. "Check if she has any connections to Kieran."
"...Yes."
"One more thing," I took a deep breath, "obtain the original recording of that emergency call from three years ago from the hospital. Whatever it takes, I want only the original."
"Understood. I'll arrange it immediately."
After hanging up, I collapsed into my chair. If Isabella truly was lying... if everything Noelle had said was the truth... then what I'd just done to her...
"Boss, Isabella Vance is here."
The following evening, Dmitri's voice crackled through the intercom. I hadn't intended to see her, but considering that both Noelle and Lorenzo had mentioned her name, I decided to hear what she had to say.
"Have her wait in the sitting room."
After straightening my shirt, I entered the sitting room. Isabella sat on the sofa, clutching a handkerchief, eyes red-rimmed—she'd clearly been crying.
Upon seeing me, she immediately rose.
"Kholod!" Her voice was thick with tears. "I heard about... Lorenzo, he..."
"Sit." I settled into the single chair across from her, tone neutral.
She bit her lower lip and sat back down, fingers twisting the handkerchief anxiously.
"How is Lorenzo?" she asked tentatively. "Is he... is he still alive?"
"He's alive." I studied her intently. "You're concerned about him?"
"I'm just... worried." She shook her head frantically. "After all, it was my fault... I caused this..."
"Your fault?" I arched an eyebrow.
"It's all my fault!" She suddenly broke into sobs, tears streaming down her face. "I only wanted to help Noelle and Lorenzo resolve their misunderstanding... I never imagined he'd be so reckless..."
She wept, her entire body trembling.
"I truly just wanted to help... I thought if they met and talked things through, Lorenzo would finally give up, and Noelle could live peacefully... but I never expected it would turn out like this..."
"So you orchestrated all of this?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
"Yes..." She cried harder. "I know I was wrong, Kholod... I was too naive..."
"Why did you do it?"
"I thought it was just a misunderstanding," she looked up at me through tear-filled eyes. "Lorenzo kept asking about Noelle... I thought if they met once and cleared the air, he could move on... and Noelle could finally be free of him..."
"How did you contact Lorenzo?"
"He'd approached me before," she dabbed at her tears. "Asked how Noelle was doing... I felt sorry for him and shared a few details... Later he kept pestering me, so I thought... perhaps if they met once and settled things..."
"So you arranged that encounter?"
"Yes..." She hung her head. "I truly... truly only meant to help... Kholod, I swear I had no ulterior motives... I know Noelle is your wife, I absolutely... absolutely never intended to create problems between you..."
She wept pitifully, her tears and trembling appearing genuine.
"Did Noelle know about this?"
"No!" She immediately shook her head. "I didn't tell her! I only said I had a surprise for her... I never thought Lorenzo would be so impulsive..."
She stood and approached me, then dropped to her knees.
"Kholod, please forgive me," she sobbed. "I can apologize to Noelle personally... please don't blame her for my mistake... this is entirely my responsibility..."
I looked down at her kneeling form—face streaked with tears, voice trembling, remorse seemingly authentic. I still wanted to believe she was well-intentioned. After all, without her, there would be no Morozov left in this world.
"Stand up."
"Kholod..."
"Get up and sit down." My tone softened slightly.
She slowly rose and perched nervously on the edge of the sofa, still sniffling quietly.
"This matter..." I remained silent for a moment. "I'll get to the bottom of it."
"I can do anything to make amends..."
"That's not necessary." I cut her off. "But don't see Noelle for the time being."
Her face paled. "Am I no longer worthy of being her friend?"
"No," I said. "It's just that the situation is complicated right now. We'll see when things settle."
"I understand..." She kept her head down. "Is Noelle... is she all right?"
The question made my chest tighten.
"She's fine." I lied.
"That's good..." Isabella looked relieved. "Kholod, if... if there's anything you need me to do, please let me know. I owe Noelle an apology, and I owe you one as well..."
"If you truly want to make amends," I said, "then stay away from her. At least for now."
"I understand."
"Dmitri will escort you home. If you need anything in the future, have him relay it to me."
"All right... thank you, Kholod..."
She turned to leave, but glanced back at me when she reached the door.
"Kholod, I really am... so very sorry..."
"I know. Go."
After the door closed, I sank back into the sofa.
Every detail about her told me she was innocent, that she'd simply done wrong with good intentions.
I rubbed my temples. Perhaps I really was being overly suspicious. Maybe she truly was just too naive, underestimating Lorenzo's obsession.
"Boss." Dmitri had returned.
"What is it?"
"Before Miss Vance left," he handed me an envelope and a note, "she asked me to give you these."
The note bore Isabella's elegant but slightly shaky handwriting.
"Kholod,
I'm truly sorry. I know no amount of apologies can compensate for my mistake. If possible, please give the letter to Noelle. I'll always be her friend. Whatever happens, I hope she can find happiness.
—Isabella"
I stared at the note for a long time.
"Boss?" Dmitri interrupted my thoughts. "About the reinvestigation..."
"Continue the search." I placed the note on the table. "Don't overlook any leads."
"But Lorenzo's testimony..."
"Testimony can be fabricated," I said. "But some things can't be faked. Go check that emergency call recording. That's where we'll find the truth."
"Understood."
After he left, I stood and walked to the window. Night had fallen over the manor, shrouding everything in darkness except for the light still glowing in the master bedroom. Noelle should be awake by now.
I wanted to see her, yet couldn't bear to face the hatred and despair that might be in her eyes.
I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.