Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Noelle
"Ma'am, you need to eat something."
Darya's voice sounded distant, as if coming from underwater.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. A blank expanse, just like my heart.
"Ma'am?" She called again, worry threading through her voice.
I didn't respond. Not because I wouldn't, but because I'd lost the strength to speak.
How long had it been? Three days? Five? A week? I'd lost count. Time had ceased to matter.
"Ma'am, the doctor is here to examine you," Darya said softly.
I remained silent, just lying there.
Emily entered, carrying her medical bag.
"Ma'am." She sat beside the bed, her tone gentle. "I need to check your condition."
I turned my head toward the window.
"Ma'am?" She tried again.
Darya explained quietly. "Doctor, she's been like this for days... won't speak, won't eat anything."
"I understand." Emily nodded. "Let me begin the examination."
She took out her stethoscope and placed it on my chest.
The cold metal touched my skin. Then came the blood pressure cuff, thermometer—one instrument after another.
I let her do whatever she needed, like a soulless puppet.
"Vitals are normal," she finally said, "but she's severely malnourished. She must eat, or it will become dangerous."
"But she refuses everything..." Darya's voice was strained.
"I'll start her on IV nutrition," Emily said, packing up. "Also, her mental state is very concerning. I recommend psychological intervention."
"I'll inform the boss."
After Emily left, silence settled over the room again.
Darya sat on the edge of the bed and gently took my hand. "Ma'am..." her voice broke, "You can't continue like this... You need to eat something..."
I slowly turned to look at her. Her eyes were red and swollen—she'd been crying.
"Darya." I finally spoke, my voice hoarse and unrecognizable.
"Ma'am!" She gripped my hand tightly. "You're willing to talk!"
"Help me..."
"Tell me what! I'll do anything!"
"Close the curtains..." I whispered. "Too bright."
She paused, then nodded. "Of course."
The heavy curtains drew shut, plunging the room into darkness.
I closed my eyes again.
In the days that followed, I maintained my silence.
Doctors came daily for examinations, and nurses administered IV nutrition.
I cooperated with all treatments but refused to speak again.
Kholod occasionally appeared in the doorway. He would stand there, expressionless, watching me for a moment before turning away.
I watched his retreating figure with dead eyes. That man who had taken me to Iceland to see the aurora, who had clumsily braided my hair...
He was gone. What remained was a monster I never wanted to see again.
"Noelle."
Anastasia's voice pulled me back to reality. She and Anya had returned from their business trip to discover what had happened.
She stood beside the bed, holding a bowl of soup.
"Sit up," she commanded.
I didn't move.
"Noelle." She called again. "Sit up and drink this."
I slowly sat up and accepted the bowl.
The soup wasn't hot—cooled to the perfect temperature. A faint warmth stirred in my chest.
I slowly brought the spoon to my lips, sip by careful sip.
"Good." Anastasia sat on the bed. "You must live, Noelle."
I looked at her with hollow eyes.
"Why?" My voice was barely a whisper. "Why should I live?"
"Because you're young," she said gently. "Life continues."
"But I feel like I'm already dead."
Anastasia fell silent for a moment.
"Kholod went too far," suppressed anger colored her voice. "Acting so impulsively before all the facts were established."
"It doesn't matter anymore, Mother."
"Noelle—"
"Mother, I want to rest." I pleaded softly.
She studied me, complex emotions flickering in her eyes. Finally, she stood and left the room.
That evening, Anya came.
She entered while I sat by the window, staring into space.
"Noelle," she called.
I turned. She looked unwell too.
"Are you... all right?" Her tone held unusual concern.
"I'm fine," I said, my voice frighteningly calm.
"You're not fine at all." She approached and sat across from me. "Noelle, you can't go on like this."
"Then what should I do?" I asked quietly. "Continue playing the perfect Mrs. Morozov?"
"I..." She opened her mouth but found no words.
"Anya, thank you for visiting me."
She remained silent for several seconds before standing. At the door, she turned back. "If you need anything, tell Mother and me anytime. As for Kholod... I'll make sure he doesn't disturb you as much."
"Thank you."
After the door closed, I gazed out the window again. The sky was overcast—it looked like rain.
Sudden nausea struck. I covered my mouth and rushed to the bathroom, retching over the toilet.
My stomach was empty—only the bitter taste of bile.
"Ma'am!" Darya hurried in to steady me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing..." I leaned weakly against the wall. "Probably caught a cold."
"I'll call the doctor—"
"No." I stopped her. "I just need rest."
This wasn't the first time.
This wasn't the first time. I'd been experiencing nausea, fatigue, and loss of appetite recently. I'd managed to suppress it before, but today I couldn't control it.
I'd assumed it was a lingering effect from that terrible ordeal. But now...
I slowly stood and walked to the sink. My reflection showed a pale face and empty eyes.
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind.
I hurried back to the bedroom and grabbed the calendar from the nightstand—my hands began trembling. My period was nearly two months overdue.
"No..." I whispered. "That's impossible..."
But every symptom pointed to the same possibility. I was pregnant.
Tears streamed down my face. "No... this can't be real..."
I couldn't be pregnant. Not now, not under these circumstances.
I needed to stay calm. I grabbed my phone, hands shaking as I tried to dial Zoe's number—no, all communications were monitored. That would be like telling Kholod directly.
I sat in a daze for a long time until my gaze fell on the sketchpad, and finally I had an idea.
The next afternoon, Darya knocked and entered.
"Ma'am, your friend sent a package." She held an elegant gift box. "From Zoe Harper."
My heart raced.
"Thank you." I took the box, struggling to appear calm. "Put it here. You may go."
"Yes, ma'am."
The moment the door closed, I tore open the box. Inside were beautiful crafts and a box of chocolates. I found a long chocolate bar—trust Zoe to think of this method. I cracked open the chocolate, and there was the pregnancy test, carefully wrapped in plastic film.
My hands shook as I held the test.
I went into the bathroom and followed the instructions.
Three minutes. They felt like three centuries.
When I finally found the courage to look—two clear red lines.
I was pregnant.
"No..." I covered my mouth as tears poured out. "No..."
My trembling hand moved to my abdomen. There was a tiny life growing inside—innocent, mine.
My world turned upside down again, but an unprecedented strength rose from within.
I would never allow my child to be born in this cold prison. Never let Kholod harm them.
I had to escape. Leave this suffocating place.
From that day forward, I forced myself to eat, despite the persistent nausea. I suppressed it through sheer willpower.
I began refusing Emily's examinations, but seeing my life gradually return to normal, she reluctantly agreed.
Perhaps the baby sensed my situation—as my diet improved, the morning sickness actually decreased, helping me conceal this secret.
I became compliant and quiet, like a truly subdued wife.
"Noelle, are you really better now?" Anastasia asked me every day.
"Mother, I'm fine." I even managed a relaxed smile. "For you and Anya, I must live well."
"That's good to hear." Anastasia smiled back.
Kholod's attitude also softened somewhat.
The guards at the master bedroom door were reduced by half. I could walk in the garden again and visit the library. But he still forbade me from leaving the manor and monitored all my communications.
"Noelle..." We encountered each other in the garden.
"Yes?"
He paused, studying my eyes as if searching for something.
"About that incident—I'm conducting a new investigation. But regarding your father's actions..."
"I understand." I interrupted him. "The Bellucci family should pay for my father's crimes. I accept that."
He remained silent for a long time.
"Is there anything else?"
"No."
A week later, Kholod finally permitted me weekly phone calls with Zoe.
"Fifteen minutes," he said. "On speakerphone."
"All right." I nodded obediently.
During the first call, Zoe's voice came through. "Noelle! Are you okay? I couldn't reach you and was so worried!"
"I'm fine. Just family matters—Morozov family rules, you understand."
"I do! By the way, what subject are you planning for the Association Exhibition painting?"
"Landscapes, mainly Icelandic glaciers. I'm practicing cold blue tones."
"Which blue? Prussian blue or ultramarine?"
"Primarily ultramarine. I want to capture the profound depths of the glacier's core."
A second of silence on the other end—Zoe was surely shocked. But she quickly recovered. "Very challenging! When do you plan to finish?"
"In three weeks. I want to work quickly."
"Excellent! You must show me when it's done. Do you need any special art supplies? I can help you get them."
"Thank you. I'll send you a list."
"Perfect! I'm looking forward to your work!"
"Goodbye."
After hanging up, I noticed Kholod standing in the bedroom, watching me.
"What were you discussing?"
"The Association Exhibition. We talked about my artistic concept."
He scrutinized me for a long time before finally nodding. "You can call her again next week."
"Thank you."
He turned and left. I returned to my seat by the window.
My hand gently touched my belly. Wait a little longer, baby. Mama will get us out of here.
Zoe worked quickly.
During the second call, she told me, "I found a wonderful partner. She has friends who are willing to help you find rare blue pigments."
"Really? When can they deliver?"
"Next week. She's holding an art exhibition in town—we need to wait for her return."
"I wish I could go see it too."
"She would definitely welcome you. You could sell paintings there too—with your skill level, the income would be quite good."
"That sounds wonderful! I'll definitely go if I have the chance. I should continue preparing my artwork now."
"Keep it up!"
The third call came a week later.
"Noelle, I found an excellent frame supplier who offers custom services and can handle shipping for you."
"Perfect! I've been too busy lately to leave the manor."
"You focus on completing your painting. He'll come directly to pick it up."
"Thank you so much, Zoe!"
"No need for thanks between us."
After hanging up, I looked out the window. Late May—storm season was approaching.
I had to start preparing.
Every day, I secretly gathered essentials—a few changes of clothes, cash, documents—hiding them under the mattress, waiting for the right moment.
At the same time, I began writing divorce papers. Word by word, carefully crafted. I wanted none of his money, none of his property, nothing belonging to the Morozov family. I only wanted freedom and my child's future. After finishing, I hid the papers deep in the closet.
Tonight, Kholod wasn't home—probably handling business matters again.
Lying in bed, listening to thunder rumbling outside, I waited quietly.
Countless images flashed through my mind—Kholod taking me to Iceland, clumsily braiding my hair, his awkward expression when he said "whatever you want," his warmth as he held me in the bathtub... But he had destroyed all of that with his own hands.
Hearing commotion outside the manor, I got out of bed barefoot, retrieved the clothes and documents I'd hidden in the closet, took the divorce papers from the drawer, and changed into the maid's uniform I'd secretly altered.
Everything was ready. Taking a deep breath, I walked to the door.
With my hand on the doorknob, I took one last look around this room—it held too much joy and pain.
Goodbye, Kholod Morozov.
The door opened silently. The corridor was dim, with only emergency lights flickering faintly.
The Morozov manor's electrical system was indeed robust, but the thunderstorm arrived as expected.
During my recent walks, I had studied the electrical system and secretly placed a metal rod near the transformer.
Although there were backup generators, full startup would take several minutes—exactly the chaos I needed.
I hurried through the corridor, down the stairs, past the main hall. The servants were all dealing with the power outage—no one noticed this "hurried maid."
I pushed open the side door, threw on a rain poncho, and rushed into the storm. The rain was freezing, but I couldn't stop.
I ran desperately toward the manor gates. Zoe had said the contact would wait on the side road at midnight. I had already passed the manor's layout to her through scattered paintings.
Rain blurred my vision, and the muddy ground nearly made me fall several times. But I couldn't stop.
Finally, I saw the manor gates. I hid behind a sculpture to observe. A patrol team had just passed, and the guardhouse was empty—they must have gone to handle other situations.
I seized the moment to slip through the gates. A black sedan was parked by the roadside, its headlights flashing twice.
The contact.
I rushed over and yanked open the door.
"Go!"
The car started immediately and sped into the rainy night.
"Are you all right?" He turned around, the scar on his face particularly stark in the dim light.
"Lorenzo?"