Chapter 21 Nadya #3
But I’m already halfway to the doors, the world closing in, my heart shattering for Katya, for everyone we’ve lost, for the pieces of myself that keep getting scattered every time I try to survive this life.
I stumble out into the quieter corridor beyond the ballroom, desperate for air and for a place where no one can see the tears already slipping down my cheeks.
I stumble into a quiet hallway, the ballroom’s music and chatter muffled behind heavy doors. My vision blurs as the tears finally spill over, hot and endless, the ache in my chest so sharp I can barely stand.
Rifat finds me, footsteps soft behind me, and for a moment he just lets me cry, keeping a respectful distance.
“How did they even find Ludmila? I thought the location was secure.”
“It was,” Rifat says, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.
Then he steps closer, voice low and gentle. “Despite everything that’s happened…I’m glad Konstantin took you, Nadya. You’re safe here. Arman needed to know that.” He hesitates, then adds even softer, “We all needed to know that.”
But I can’t stop crying. The sobs rack through me, leaving my shoulders shaking. I press the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to choke them back, but it’s no use. How many people are going to die for me, for my family, for these endless feuds?
My mind spins. Oh no, not here. I can’t crumble. I can’t let him find out. Rifat takes my arm in his and pulls me to his chest. “You okay?” he asks.
Before I can answer, Rifat is suddenly torn away from me, his warmth vanishing so fast I nearly stumble. I look up, gasping, and see Konstantin’s face twisted with fury as he slams Rifat hard against the wall.
“Get the fuck away from my wife,” Konstantin spits, his voice so raw it scrapes the air. He doesn’t wait for an answer. His fist drives into Rifat’s jaw with a sickening crack, blood blooming from Rifat’s mouth and down his chin.
“Konstantin, don’t!” I scream, surging forward. “Don’t hurt him! Stop, please!”
Konstantin ignores me, arm drawn back for another blow. The rage in his eyes is blinding, all reason lost beneath it. He finally turns to me, his chest heaving, blood on his knuckles.
“Is this what you’ve been doing away from me?” His voice is shaking, barely controlled, accusation and jealousy battling in his gaze. “Is this what you wanted?”
I stand frozen, heart pounding, torn between fear, anger, and helplessness. The echo of his words, the violence still humming in the air, makes it hard to breathe. Rifat is gasping, struggling to stand, while Konstantin stands between us, wild with hurt.
Tears streak my cheeks, and I don’t know who to reach for.
Konstantin stands over Rifat, his fists still clenched, eyes blazing with betrayal and something deeper I can’t name. The hallway is thick with tension, every muscle in his body straining like he’s holding himself back from finishing what he started.
I shove myself between them, my hands trembling as I press my palms against Konstantin’s chest. “Stop it,” I plead, voice shaking. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
He looks down at me, breathing hard, his jaw clenched so tightly I can see the pulse in his neck. “You’re crying in his arms,” he hisses, pain and fury tangled together. “You run from me and this is what I find? My wife with another man.”
Rifat wipes blood from his mouth, jaw set but eyes steady. “It’s not what you think.”
“You have some nerve, Konstantin, accusing me of things I never did,” I snap, wiping tears from my cheeks, my voice shaking with hurt and fury.
He wheels on me, jaw tight, eyes flashing. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”
But the dam inside me bursts. I step closer, anger burning hotter than the ache in my chest. “Really? Then what was that out there? You see me talking to someone I trust, someone who risked his life for me, and you lose your mind. But I’m just supposed to smile while you parade Anya around at every party? ”
His face hardens, the line of his mouth drawn tight. “That’s not the same and you know it.” He shakes his head, but the denial is weak, half-hearted. “There’s nothing between me and Anya. She’s Viktor’s sister. This is business, nothing more.”
“Business,” I echo, the word bitter on my tongue. “Is that what you call it? Because to me it looks a lot like betrayal.”
He glares back, fists still clenched, hurt and pride warring behind his eyes. “You’re my wife, Nadya. Don’t forget that.”
Tears threaten again, but I force myself to meet his gaze. “I wish that meant as much to you as it does to me. Do you want to talk about loyalty? Do you want to talk about honesty?” The pain and anger in my voice ricochet down the corridor, the words hanging between us, impossible to take back.
He stares at me, caught off guard, a flash of something raw and wounded passing over his face. For a second, neither of us speaks, both too full of things we never said, both standing in the ruins of everything we once promised.
“Answer me,” I whisper, voice breaking. “Or are only my sins worth punishment in this house?” I swipe at my cheeks, trying to stop the trembling in my voice. “I want to go home,” I whisper, staring at the floor, unable to look at him any longer.
“No,” Konstantin snaps, tone brooking no argument, but his eyes flick to Rifat, finally letting the tension drain from his posture just enough. “You—get out. Now.”
Rifat hesitates, wiping the blood from his mouth, meeting my gaze with worry and silent apology. I give him a small, desperate nod. “Go. Please.”
He hesitates one second longer, glaring daggers at Konstantin, then turns and disappears down the corridor, boots echoing on polished stone. The space between Konstantin and me stretches wide and cold, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down hard.
Konstantin rounds on me, voice rough with demand. “Who the fuck is that?”
I look him dead in the eye, anger simmering. “Find out yourself.”
I shoulder past him, desperate to escape the suffocating corridor. As I round the corner, my steps slow. Anya stands at the end of the hallway, arms folded, her brows drawn in a troubled line.
She bites her lip, her voice almost a whisper. “I never meant to come between you two.”
Her words catch me off guard. For a heartbeat, I can only stare at her, the ache of everything—fear, guilt, suspicion—still burning in my chest.
I keep moving, shoulders set, not sure whether to believe her or not, but too tired to answer. The last thing I see before slipping away is the look in her eyes—remorse, or something like it—and the way she glances over my shoulder, as if afraid of what’s coming next.