Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Noelle
"Noelle! Noelle! You finally picked up!"
My mother's hysterical voice exploded through the receiver, so sharp it pierced my eardrums. I jolted upright in bed, checking the time—three a.m.
"Mom? What's wrong?"
"It's over! Everything's over!" Her voice trembled, laced with sobs. "The restaurants have been sealed shut, all of them! The company, the bank accounts—everything's frozen! Noelle, what on earth happened?"
My mind snapped into focus.
"What? What got sealed?"
"All of it! The Ninth Street restaurant, the Bellavista cafe, the food import company!" She was practically screaming. "They said it's for debt repayment! But we don't owe a thing... Noelle, go ask Kholod! This has to be a mistake! It must be some mix-up!"
My hands began to shake.
"Mom, calm down..."
"How can I calm down?!" She shattered. "Noelle, I have nothing left! They're even taking the house! I... what am I supposed to do..."
"Mom, listen to me—"
"Go beg Kholod!" She interrupted, her voice raw with desperation. "You're his wife! You can make this right! Noelle, please, save your mom..."
I closed my eyes, tears sliding down my cheeks.
"Alright. I'll ask him."
After hanging up, I slumped on the edge of the bed.
The screen showed over thirty missed calls, all from her.
And the texts—
"Noelle, they're kicking me out!"
"Please, beg Kholod!"
"I'm your mom! You can't just abandon me!"
My fingers gripped the phone tightly, knuckles turning white.
This had to be a mistake. Something must have gone wrong somewhere.
I had to ask him.
I snatched a robe at random and rushed out of the room barefoot.
The hallway was eerily quiet, my footsteps echoing sharply on the marble floor, frantic and uneven.
Kholod's study door was slightly ajar, warm yellow light seeping through.
He wasn't asleep.
I pushed it open and burst inside.
"Kholod!"
He was seated behind the desk, cradling a glass of liquor, gazing out the window. At the sound of my voice, he turned slowly.
Those amber eyes were now as cold as ice.
"Mom said..." I panted, my voice quivering. "She said the family businesses have all been sealed... This... what's going on? Is it some kind of mistake?"
He stared at me in silence.
"Please..." I approached him, tears streaming down. "Help her, okay? It has to be a mix-up..."
"There's no mistake, Noelle." He finally spoke, his voice calm in a way that chilled me to the bone.
My heart plummeted.
"What do you mean?"
He rose and walked toward me. I instinctively backed away. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping a tear from my cheek. The touch was soft, but his eyes remained frozen.
"This is the price you and your family," he leaned in close, whispering in a devilish tone only we could hear, "should have paid long ago."
"I don't understand." I shook my head. "Kholod, what are you talking about..."
He didn't respond. Instead, he returned to the desk, picked up a file, and tossed it at my feet.
"Read it yourself."
With trembling hands, I picked it up and flipped through the pages.
Each line made my heart sink further.
Confessions. Bank transfer records. Call logs. Surveillance screenshots.
All of it pointed to one damning truth: My father, Marco Bellucci, ensnared by gambling debts to Kieran, had sold out Kholod's whereabouts, leading to that nearly fatal ambush.
"No... this can't be..." My voice shook. "It's fabricated... Dad wouldn't... he couldn't..."
"The evidence is ironclad." Kholod's voice sliced like a knife. "Noelle, this is the truth."
"It's not!" I shook my head frantically. "Kholod, it has to be fake! Dad would never do something like that!"
"Then how do you explain the five million dollars?" He pointed sharply at the bank record. "Just appeared out of nowhere?"
"I... I don't know..." My voice grew faint. "Maybe he really did owe Kieran..."
"Maybe?" Kholod sneered. "Noelle, you don't even believe that crap yourself, do you?"
"Kholod, please believe me..." I clutched his arm. "I had no idea about any of this! If I'd known what Dad did, I never would have saved you that night!"
"Still lying to my face?" He shook off my hand violently, his eyes blazing with rage. "Noelle, Isabella was the one who saved me—you know that. Or was that just another piece of your elaborate scheme?"
"No!" I nearly shouted. "Kholod, it was me that night! I remember your face, every detail—"
"Enough. I'm done with your fairy tales."
"I'm not lying! If the Morozovs hadn't driven my father to suicide, I never would have..."
"What? Out of excuses, so now you're trying to pin the blame on me?"
"I don't know how any of this happened!" I sobbed. "But Mom and I are innocent! We..."
"You're a Bellucci." His voice was devoid of any warmth. "His sins are your sins."
"That's not fair!"
"Fair?" He let out a cold laugh. "Noelle, that word doesn't exist in my world."
He turned and picked up the phone. "Dmitri, proceed as planned."
"No!" I lunged to grab it. "Kholod, please... spare my mom—she's innocent!"
He shoved me back with force, sending me stumbling.
"And what about me?" I screamed in despair. "I married you, got imprisoned by you, tormented by you, branded like some object—isn't that enough?!"
"Not enough." His voice was like ice as he advanced. "Far from it."
I retreated until my back hit the wall.
He planted his hands on either side of me, caging me in.
"When you were moaning beneath me, were you secretly laughing at what a fool I was? The Belluccis used your pretty face, your body, to earn my trust, to secure my protection for your family—did you think that was a good deal?"
"I didn't!"
"Still denying it!" He seized my arm with bruising force, making me cry out in pain. "Your entire family is full of liars! Your father betrayed me, your mother exploited you, and you..."
His gaze darkened further. "You used your body, your tears, your feigned innocence to wear down my defenses, even plotting to sell out the Morozovs. Noelle Bellucci, you're a master manipulator."
"It's not..." Tears flooded my face. "Kholod, I never... how could I... I'm..."
"What?" He sneered. "You're in love with me? Don't make me laugh."
"Take her down."
At his command, two maids surged forward and restrained me. They pressed something against me—my body went limp, unable to move, my mouth muffled so tightly I couldn't even whimper.
Kholod led the way, opening a hidden door behind the storeroom. He entered a code, and the door slid open, revealing a descending staircase.
The stairs were narrow, flanked by cold concrete walls, illuminated by dim lights.
They dragged me down. The air grew colder, my heartbeat pounding faster.
It was a small room with thick soundproof walls. In the center stood a torture chair, and in the corner, cabinets and racks displayed an array of tools, gleaming with menacing silver light.
My legs turned to jelly. The maids forced me into the chair and shackled my wrists and ankles.
"Kholod, please..." My voice trembled. "Let's just talk this through..."
"No need for talk now." He approached, his eyes colder than I'd ever seen. "Noelle, you had countless opportunities to come clean."
"I didn't know anything!"
"You didn't know your father was a gambler? That he owed massive debts? That he received huge payments right around the time of my ambush?"
"I..."
I did know about the gambling and the debts. But I never knew who was behind them. Mom always kept me out of those matters.
"What? Cat got your tongue?"
He snatched a remote, and the chair suddenly reclined, spreading my legs apart. The abrupt shift caused the metal cuffs to scrape harshly against my skin. He grabbed a fistful of my hair—
"Ah—!" I cried out in pain.
Without a shred of pity, he ripped off my robe and tore open my nightgown, leaving me in nothing but panties.
"Kholod... don't..."
"Don't?" He bent over me. "When your father sold me out and your mother basked in the protection I provided, did they ever think 'don't'?"
"I didn't deceive you!" I cried. "Kholod, please..."
He sneered, his fingers clamping my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Noelle Bellucci, thinking back, every glance, every word, every act of submission was just mocking me."
"It's not..."
"When you initiated that kiss, were you celebrating how your performance had fooled me? When you said you wanted me, were you scheming to extract even more?"
"No! Kholod, that's not it! I like you! I love you, Kholod!"
"Noelle, you really think I'll believe that now?!"
My mouth opened, but no words emerged.
"Kholod..." I choked out. "Let me explain... I always thought... you were the one who killed my dad... that's why I..."
He seemed to have had enough, turning to the cabinet and yanking open a drawer. Inside were neatly arranged whips, candles, and other tools I'd never laid eyes on.
Fear surged through me like a tidal wave.
"Kholod... not like this..."
"I'll make you understand," he said, selecting a black leather whip and weighing it in his hand, "the cost of betraying me."
He pressed the whip against my collarbone, sliding it downward slowly.
"See this?"
I shook my head desperately, terror rendering me nearly speechless.
"Answer my questions honestly," he murmured, "or you'll regret it."
"I'll tell... anything..."
"Good." He smiled, a grin more terrifying than any scowl. "First question—what exactly was your father's plan?"
"What plan? I don't know—"
The whip lashed down across my chest, slicing precisely over the right peak. It wasn't like any whip I'd imagined—this one seemed specially made, not excruciatingly painful, but delivering a sharp sting laced with a tingling numbness that rippled through me.
I screamed, the bizarre sensation tearing a cry from my lips.
Kholod leaned in closer, his voice a menacing growl. "Tell me what your family's been plotting, Noelle. All the schemes, the betrayals—spill it."
Tears poured down my face. "I don't know! I swear, I have no idea!"