Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Hailey
That steady, damn near musical knocking yanked me out of dead sleep.
I blinked, dazed. The first thing I saw was the crystal chandelier hanging over the master bed like some rich-person sun. The blackout curtains sat cracked open, and morning light cut through like it had something to prove.
I shot upright. My brain stayed blank for a couple of seconds.
Last night. The movie.
It all rushed back at once. Jesus. I had fallen asleep halfway through The Notebook, curled up in Viktor's arms. My little confession. The words I'd spent days building up the courage to say. All of it got wrecked by my useless, traitor of a body shutting down.
I smacked my forehead and looked beside me.
The other half of the bed lay smooth. Cold. Empty.
That familiar drop hit my chest hard. Where the hell had he gone? Did I bore him by passing out? Or... had he never planned to stay the night in the first place?
"Woof!"
Buddy scrambled up from the foot of the bed, tail whipping, and shoved his wet nose against my hand like he could physically push the thoughts away.
Yeah. After ten minutes of arguing with Viktor, Buddy had officially beaten out Viper and won the name war.
"Knock, knock, knock." The door again.
I grabbed a robe, wrapped it tight, and padded barefoot to the door. Buddy trailed behind me, wagging like crazy.
When I opened it, a familiar guy stood there—one of Viktor's people.
Same sharp black suit, pressed to perfection.
But in his hands, he held a bouquet of red roses so loud they practically shouted.
In his other hand sat an insulated carrier stamped with the logo of one of Manhattan's top French places.
"Good morning, Miss Woods." His face didn't move as he handed them over. "Boss instructed me to deliver your breakfast."
I took the heavy bouquet, stunned. The petals still carried dew. The scent flooded the entryway, thick and real.
"Where's Viktor?" I asked without thinking.
"Boss had an urgent matter. He needed to leave New York for a few days." He gave a slight nod and headed for the elevator like that was all there was to say.
I carried the roses into the living room and sat at the table. Inside the carrier, the food still steamed—black truffle eggs Benedict and a fresh latte. At the very bottom, pressed flat, lay a pure black card.
I set the coffee down. My heart sped up anyway. My fingers shook a little as I slid the card free.
Viktor's handwriting cut across it—bold, aggressive, like he'd carved the ink into the paper.
"Something came up. I needed to travel for a few days. Eat your breakfast. Wait for me at the company like a good girl, my princess. —V}
My princess.
Those words lit a match in my chest and burned through every bit of gloom I'd been holding.
I stared at the note and reread it over and over—ten times, easy. My mouth kept curving up until my cheeks actually ached.
That cold, command-and-control man had left me breakfast. And roses.
Samantha had been right. If he'd only been playing around, he wouldn't have bothered with any of this.
I snatched up my phone, tapped his pinned contact, and typed fast.
Me: The flowers are gorgeous. Breakfast was amazing. Thank you. Be safe. I'll be waiting for you.
Sent.
I watched the screen. Nothing came back. Fine. Normal. With his life, "urgent travel" meant a plane, a meeting, something locked down and serious. I shoved the phone in my pocket, humming while I got ready.
All morning, I felt like my feet didn't fully touch the floor.
When I walked into the Ivanov Group building in my fitted beige suit and heels, even the usual grim security gate looked less like a prison door.
"Morning, Hailey!"
"Hey, someone's in a good mood."
I smiled and nodded at the greetings. In the private glass office Viktor had arranged for me—bright, gorgeous view—sunlight spilled across my desk. Everything looked perfect.
I floated in that quiet, sweet kind of happiness, to the point even the boring financial reports felt less dead.
Then lunch hit.
I carried my salad to the break area for coffee. Before I even stepped inside, I heard the low, excited gossip.
"Did you hear? HR's putting out a notice this afternoon. We're getting a new Senior VP dropped in out of nowhere." That was a blonde girl from PR, practically vibrating.
"Senior VP? Like... reporting straight to Mr. Ivanov?" someone else gasped.
"Yep. And I heard her background is insane.
" The blonde lowered her voice like she was leaking classified intel.
"Natalia Sorokova. Only daughter of some Russian energy oligarch.
And the craziest part? She and our Boss grew up together.
People say their families were tight back in Moscow—like, real old-money, perfect-match stuff. "
My feet stopped cold in the doorway. My hand tightened around the salad container.
Grew up together?
"Oh my God. So she's basically the future Mrs. Ivanov?"
"Absolutely. And I heard—" the blonde dropped even lower, smug with it, "this weekend, Mr. Ivanov canceled everything and secretly booked out some super private place to see her. Someone saw Yuri personally clear it out."
My heart jumped, then something weird twisted up with it—relief and guilt, tangled together.
Secret date? Private booking?
They were talking about the aquarium.
But the person Viktor had held hands with under those glowing tanks, the person he'd kissed while fish swarmed overhead... had been me. Not some oligarch's daughter. Not some childhood sweetheart. Somebody had seen "booked out" and filled in the rest with a fairy tale.
I let out a breath and told myself it was just watercooler bullshit.
Still—something tiny, sharp as a needle, slipped under my skin.
Natalia.
The name sounded like ice and diamonds. A woman the whole company could lose its mind over, a woman everyone called Viktor's "perfect match." What was she really like?
Back in my office, I set down my salad and pulled out my phone.
The screen stayed clean. No reply from Viktor.
I bit my lip, hesitated, then sent another message.
Me: People keep talking about some new exec coming in today. With you gone, the office feels... weird. When are you going to be free?
Five minutes. Ten. Half an hour.
That little green bubble sat there alone, like I'd thrown a rock into the ocean and expected it to answer.
I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold, and told myself not to turn into some needy, paranoid mess. He was a powerful man. He was busy.
But at two p.m., when I watched that "rumor" become real, I realized my self-talk was paper-thin.
The leadership team held a quick welcome in the big conference room. Because my office sat near the executive suite, I got stuck standing in the back with my manager.
The doors opened.
And in walked a woman who made every other woman in the room feel like they needed to apologize for existing.
Her hair fell in shining gold waves, brighter than jewelry. She wore a white Dior couture suit cut so perfectly it looked like it had been made on her body. Her features were sharp and gorgeous, carrying that effortless arrogance you only got when money and power had raised you from the cradle.
"Hello, everyone. I'm Natalia." Her English carried a sultry Russian edge as her gaze skimmed the room. "While Viktor is away, I'll be acting as Senior Vice President and handling all urgent matters. I don't like wasting time. I care about results. I expect we'll work well together."
Short. Clean. Razor-edged.
The room clapped like she'd just been crowned.
I stood at the very back, watching her glow under the lights, and something sour sat on my tongue.
So this was Viktor's childhood friend. This was the woman everyone called his match. Next to her, I was just a payroll nobody in a discounted suit who couldn't even afford a decent apartment—an ugly duckling that had wandered into a flock of swans.
When the welcome ended and people started to spill out, I kept my head down and moved fast for my office.
"You're Hailey Woods, right?"
My whole body locked up.
I turned.
Natalia stood there in red-bottom heels, arms crossed, looking me over like I was a stain on her floor. Her eyes traveled from my hair all the way down to my shoes, and the contempt in them wasn't even subtle.
"I am," I said, forcing my voice to hold. "Do you need something, Miss Sorokova?"
She didn't answer right away. She strolled over to my glass office and glanced through the transparent wall, then let out a soft, mocking laugh.
"Nice view." She turned back to me, red lips parting. "But I don't understand why the lowest-level finance assistant gets to sit in a private office meant for executives. Right next to the executive suite."
My face went bloodless.
"I—Mr. Ivanov arranged it," I said through clenched teeth.
"Oh, Viktor." She gave a little laugh, intimate and familiar in a way that made my stomach turn. "He's always like that. Sometimes he gets... generous. He picks up a sad little stray cat or dog, gives it a treat, lets it feel special. It's just one of his... little hobbies."
She paused on purpose, watching the color drain from me, pleased with herself.
"But this is a company. Not a charity." Natalia lifted one hand, her index finger tipped with glossy red polish, and pointed toward the far corner of the open office area—right by the printer and the trash can near the kitchenette.
"I'm giving you ten minutes. Move your things out. Your new desk is there."
"You don't have the right to do this." The words came out before I could stop them. My nails bit into my palm. "That was Viktor— I mean, that was the CEO's arrangement."
"Right?" Natalia stepped closer like she smelled blood.
Her expensive perfume hit me, heavy and suffocating.
"Miss Woods, are you taking yourself a little too seriously?
What are you, exactly? A regular intern.
Or do you actually think you're something special to the CEO?
" Her mouth curled. "Don't be delusional, young girl.
I'm the acting Senior VP. Follow the order, or get the hell out. "
It landed like a slap.
People in the hallway pretended not to stare while they absolutely stared. Their whispers scraped at my skin. Those looks—pity, amusement, hunger for drama—stabbed like needles.
I didn't have anything to fight back with. She was senior leadership. I was nobody.
Under a dozen pairs of eyes, I packed my things into a cardboard box one item at a time, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
I moved from that sunlit glass office to a desk by the trash can, where it smelled like printer ink and something faintly sour.
The way people looked at me made it hard to breathe.
I didn't even know how I made it to four.
The words on my screen blurred. My stomach rolled. Humiliation and hurt wrapped around my throat like a hand.
I stood up fast and slipped away before my manager could snap at me, then rushed into the restroom at the end of the hall.
I locked myself in the last stall and leaned against the cold door. The tears finally fell—hard, unstoppable.
Natalia's voice kept looping in my head.
"He picks up sad little strays..."
"Just an intern. Don't be delusional..."
My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and opened Viktor's pinned contact.
The last message was still the one I'd sent at lunch.
No reply.
Nothing.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, fingers trembling as I typed.
Me: Viktor, a Miss Sorokova started today. Everyone says you two go way back, and you never mentioned her. Are you still busy? I miss you.
Sent.
I stared at the screen like I could force it to light up. My breathing turned tight and fast.
Seconds dragged.
Outside the stall, heels clicked. Water ran. Life kept moving.
My phone stayed dead silent.
The man who'd held me last night, who'd written "my princess" like he meant it—right now, when his "childhood sweetheart" had humiliated me in public and I needed him so badly—
He vanished.
Like he'd never existed at all.