Chapter 21
Nadia
I froze. My throat felt stuffed with rusted wire—I couldn't make a sound.
While I stood there like an idiot, the woman lounging against the headboard looked every bit the lady of the house. She tugged at Roman's oversized shirt, her smile wan but gracious.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I'm Vera. Vera Carter." She tilted her head slightly, voice soft. "An old friend of Roman's. I've had some health issues—doctor says I need rest, so Roman invited me to stay here for a while."
Carter. That familiar name drove into my chest like a blade.
Was she the "Carter" Roman cared about?
A surge of absurdity mixed with bile rose in my throat. I bit down hard on my tongue, using the pain to force myself to hold onto the last shred of dignity.
"If you're a guest here to recuperate," I said coldly, my gaze sweeping over the charcoal sheets beneath her, "why are you in my husband's bed?"
Vera didn't flinch at the hostility in my voice. She coughed lightly, playing innocent. "Don't get the wrong idea, Nadia. I was just helping Roman tidy up the room. I know his habits so well, after all."
She paused, her smile deepening. "Actually, I'm staying in your old room now. Roman said the light's better there—good for my recovery. All his arrangement. I'm just following orders. You don't... mind, do you?"
My world imploded.
Roman had not only let this woman wear his clothes and waltz through his private quarters—he'd given her my room? In this heavily guarded Bratva manor, not even a fly could enter the second floor of the west wing without the Pakhan's express permission!
My mind flashed back to that night before the storm. That night of passion, ruined by a ring.
Did that ring belong to her too?
My nails dug crescents into my palms, the sharp pain reminding me not to fall apart in front of this woman. I swallowed the scream clawing at my throat.
This was Sokolov manor, not some place where I could throw a tantrum. Every servant was watching. Every guard was observing. If I lost it now, if I tore into this woman like some hysterical wife, I'd lose everything.
Not just this silent war—but the last scrap of dignity I had as mistress of this manor.
I took a deep breath and straightened my spine.
"I see," I said evenly, emotion stripped from my voice. "Sounds like you really do need your rest."
Vera blinked, clearly not expecting this reaction.
I turned and opened the door, speaking to Sofia who stood helplessly in the hallway.
"Sofia, Miss Vera is unwell and needs proper care.
Please prepare a room for me in the east wing—better light, more peaceful.
Leave this wing for Miss Vera's recovery.
And make sure she has top-tier medical equipment and nursing staff. "
My tone was calm, but every word felt like it was being dragged through broken glass.
"Yes... yes, ma'am." Sofia hesitated, then nodded respectfully.
"Also," I added, still not looking back at Vera, "if Miss Vera needs anything, let me know."
I paused, nails biting deeper into my palm, forcing myself to continue.
"After all, with Roman away, it's my duty as mistress of this house to look after his... guests."
Guests.
The word nearly choked me, but I got it out.
Because I had no choice.
I didn't know what Vera and Roman were to each other. Didn't know why she was here or why Roman had given her my room.
Until I figured it out, I couldn't lose control. Couldn't give anyone ammunition.
"As for my room..." I stopped, finally turning my head.
I'd wanted to say "I need to reorganize it." Wanted to assert my position as lady of the house, even if it was just for show.
But when I met Vera's eyes—those weak yet triumphant eyes—I suddenly realized that nothing I said would change the facts.
She was already here.
She'd already claimed that room.
And Roman had allowed it.
"Sofia."
"Yes, Mrs. Sokolova." Sofia bowed her head.
"Move the luggage I just brought back to the guest room at the end of the hall. Immediately." I straightened my spine, chin lifted. "I don't want that cheap lily perfume stinking up my clothes."
Vera's expression flickered, but she quickly resumed her fragile victim act.
I didn't spare her another glance. I turned sharply.
But only I knew how hollow my steps felt, like walking on ice about to crack. I practically fled down that hallway to the cold, unfamiliar guest room.
The door slammed shut. I locked it.
Every pretense shattered.
My legs gave out. I slid down the cold wooden door onto the plush carpet.
The room was silent as a tomb.
My chest felt crushed by boulders, suffocating.
I wrapped my arms around myself, buried my face against my knees, and shook uncontrollably.
"He must have an explanation... Roman must have his reasons..." I bit my bloodless lips, murmuring over and over in the silent room, grasping for one last lifeline.
But my words rang hollow. Only now did I realize how little I knew about Roman.
His past. His history. That ring...
All of it hung over me like the sword of Damocles, ready to pierce through at any moment.
Roman, how much have you been hiding from me? Where the hell are you right now?