Chapter 25
Nadia
The night pressed down like spilled ink, the air in the east wing guest room thick enough to choke on.
I stayed curled in the shadows at the edge of the bed, my mind replaying the scene from the study on an endless, vicious loop.
Roman's indulgent posture, Vera's coquettish laughter, the servants' whispered mentions of "Miss Carter" and that damned old ring...
Every fragment was a dull blade, carving me up piece by piece.
Lightning split the sky outside without warning, a blinding white slash followed by thunder that tore the night apart.
The instant the thunder rolled through, the manor's main circuit gave a heavy groan, and the entire building plunged into absolute darkness.
Heavy blackout curtains blocked even the moonlight.
Not a single ray of light remained. Thick darkness surged from every direction like a tide, swallowing me whole.
My whole body shook violently. I clutched my head, gasping for air that tasted like nothing but frozen fear.
"Help me... it's so dark... please open the door..."
I whimpered through tears, my legs giving out as I slid down the bed frame and collapsed onto the cold floor.
Days of psychological torment, physical exhaustion, and now this sudden darkness combined with the nightmare's assault—my defenses shattered completely.
In the last second before consciousness slipped into the abyss, I thought I heard the violent crash of a door being kicked in, followed by a familiar embrace that smelled of cold cologne, pulling me back from the edge.
Half-conscious, I felt like I was floating in warm water.
Strong, warm arms held me tight—that embrace so familiar, so unbearably tempting. The familiar warmth made me instinctively curl closer in my panic, grief and desperation flooding through me as I cried with my eyes still closed.
"Roman..."
I grabbed at his collar frantically, tears streaming down my face. I felt warm, rough fingers brush across the corner of my eye with incredible tenderness, wiping away each messy tear.
Someone murmured reassurances in my ear, voice hoarse and raw, like he was suppressing immense pain.
"I'm here... Kitten, don't be scared, I'm here..."
Was that Roman's voice?
I wanted to open my eyes and see clearly, wanted to grab him and demand why he was doing this to me, but my eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. The voice in my ear grew increasingly muffled, and finally, as the world spun violently, I lost consciousness completely.
When morning light filtered through the curtain gaps, I was already awake.
I lay in the east wing guest room's soft bed, everything quiet around me. Last night's terrifying blackout and storm felt like nothing but a nightmare.
But the lingering ache in my body and the crystal-clear memories in my mind reminded me it wasn't a dream.
I really had passed out. And I really had... felt that familiar embrace.
Was it Roman? Did he really save me, hold me, gently wipe away my tears?
If he cared that much—cared enough to burst into my room in the middle of the night and hold me—then why did he say those cold things during the day? Why did he act indulgent and intimate with Vera?
Just as my thoughts spiraled, unable to distinguish reality from illusion, a soft knock came at the door.
"Come in." My voice came out hoarse.
The door opened. Sofia entered carrying breakfast. When she saw me sitting pale against the headboard, something complicated flickered in her eyes—something like pity.
"Ma'am, the kitchen prepared milk for you. Please try to eat something." Sofia set the tray on the nightstand.
I stared at the cup of milk, my heart jumping. Yesterday's accumulated grievances tangled with this morning's confusion, and I couldn't help but lift my head, locking my gaze on her.
"Sofia... last night during the blackout, did anyone come here?"
Sofia clearly froze, her fingers tightening slightly around the tray. She looked at me and sighed softly.
"Ma'am, you passed out last night. It was Pakhan. He stayed with you most of the night, didn't leave until your fever broke."
Those words hit me like lightning.
It really was him.
If I meant nothing to him, if I was just some disposable shield, why would he watch me through the security cameras at night? Why would he rush over without hesitation when I was most terrified?
But if he cared, why the cold, distant act during the day?
"Sofia, thank you." I took a deep breath, forcing down the bitter ache. "You can go. I want to be alone for a while."
Sofia looked like she wanted to say something but ultimately withdrew, closing the door behind her.
The room fell quiet again. But my heart refused to settle. Riley's words echoed in my ears—if you give up before even figuring out the truth, I'll be the first to despise you!
She was right. I couldn't hide here like a coward. I needed to find him and demand answers, face to face!
I threw off the covers and rushed out without bothering to change shoes properly.
I flew through the long corridor, heart pounding so hard it might burst through my ribs. I had to see him. I had to make him explain everything!
But when I ran through the hallway and reached the central spiral staircase connecting the main building to the east wing, I stopped dead.
That heavy mahogany door—the one the butler called the family's forbidden room, always locked—stood wide open. Sunlight poured in unobstructed.
Vera wore a pale pink silk robe, her long hair loose over her shoulders, directing several maids as they positioned a pot of delicate white camellias on the windowsill.
Hearing my hurried footsteps, she turned, and a gentle, perfectly appropriate smile appeared on her pale, sickly face—as if she were the manor's true mistress.
"Good morning, Nadia." Her voice was soft, carrying the laziness of someone just woken. "You're in such a hurry—where are you going?"
Her tone sounded caring and friendly, like a genuine friend concerned about me.
I stopped, taking a deep breath.
"Move." I tried to keep my voice steady. "I have business."
"Business?" Vera tilted her head slightly, curiosity flashing in her eyes. "So early in the morning—what's so urgent? Do you need my help?"
She shifted half a step aside but still blocked the staircase, as if waiting for my answer.
"I don't." I moved to pass her.
"Hey, don't be in such a rush." Vera lightly touched my sleeve, the gesture light—sisterly, even. "If you need anything, or if the east wing is missing something, just tell me. Roman put me in charge of the manor's internal affairs. I'll arrange everything for him."
Watching her put on this act, the fury in my chest finally overwhelmed everything else.
"Arrange for him?" I laughed coldly, stepping forward without backing down, my gaze cutting across her face like a blade.
"Vera, are you too deep in character? I'm his wife.
Whatever problems we have are between me and my husband.
I'll get my answers from him directly. An outsider like you has no right to interfere! "
Vera's expression changed instantly.
That fragile, wronged look vanished, replaced by naked anger.
"What did you say?" Her voice turned sharp, no longer gentle.
"I said you have no right to stop me." I stared into her eyes. "Vera Carter, I don't care what history you have with Roman, but right now, I'm the mistress of this manor."
Vera glared at me, chest heaving violently.
"You..." She bit out through clenched teeth, voice trembling. "You think marrying Roman means anything? Nadia, you're so naive."
She stepped closer, all warmth gone from her eyes—only cold hostility remained.
"You know about the sealed room in this manor?" She lowered her voice like sharing a secret. "Roman prepared that for me. Six years ago when I left, he sealed it. No one was allowed in."
"Now I'm back, and he immediately had it redecorated. The flowers, the books, the paintings—everything I like. Six years, Nadia. He still remembers everything about me."
Triumph and madness flickered in her eyes.
"What do you think that means?"
My fingers curled, nails digging into my palms.
"So what?" I heard myself say, voice shaking but stubborn. "I want to hear it from him. Not you."
Vera froze, clearly not expecting that response.
I moved to go around her to find Roman, but she grabbed my wrist.
"Are you insane?" Vera's voice pitched higher, panic flashing in her eyes. "Nadia, do you know what you're saying? If you go to him, you'll only humiliate yourself!"
"That's my problem." I tried to pass her again.
"You can't go!" Vera suddenly seized my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong.
"Let go." I struggled to shake her off.
"I won't let you ruin—" Vera's voice turned hysterical, but she stopped mid-sentence.
Her gaze moved past me toward the bottom of the stairs, her face going deathly pale.
I followed her line of sight—
Heavy footsteps echoed from below.
Roman.
He was back.
Vera whipped her head toward me, madness and determination flashing in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," She suddenly said quietly, voice carrying an eerie calm. "But I can't let you destroy my plan."
Then—
She yanked hard on my wrist, her whole body tilting toward the stairs.
"What are you doing?"
I tried desperately to pull her back. But her strength was shocking. She clung to me, losing her balance, pitching toward the stairs.
"Stop!" I screamed.
Too late.
She dragged me by the wrist. We both tumbled down the stairs together.
Violent pain struck instantly. My back slammed against the steps, my elbow hit the railing, my knee scraped against sharp edges. Every inch of skin screamed.
The world spun.
I heard the dull sound of bones hitting marble. Heard my own suppressed whimpers. Everything twisted, and we crashed hard onto the first-floor hall's floor.
"What the hell?"
Roman's voice exploded nearby, carrying unprecedented fury and terror.
I lay on the cold marble, every part of me too hurt to move.
Vera lay not far away, moaning in pain.
"Roman..." She said weakly, voice tearful, instantly returning to that fragile, helpless act. "Don't blame her... she... she didn't mean to push me..."
"What?"
My head snapped up, staring at her in disbelief.
"I didn't!" I shouted, voice trembling with pain. "You grabbed me yourself—"
But before I could finish, Roman rushed over.
In that moment, I saw his gaze sweep over me—over my scraped elbow, my pale face, the injuries covering my body. His steps hesitated for an instant, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides, knuckles white.
But ultimately, he passed me by and went straight to Vera's side, crouching down to carefully check her injuries.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked, voice full of worry and urgency.
"Everywhere hurts..." Vera said, tears falling, looking utterly pitiful. "I just... I just ran into her at the stairs... wanted to ask where she was going so early... but she... she said I was being nosy... said I had no right to ask... and then..."
Her voice grew smaller and smaller, finally turning into suppressed sobs.
"I'm sorry. Even though she pushed me... it's my fault, Roman. All my fault..."
"Enough!" I struggled to sit up, shaking with pain all over. "You're lying! You grabbed me yourself—"
"Nadia."
Roman finally turned to look at me. His gaze quickly circled my body, pausing for less than a second on the blood seeping from my elbow, then those deep brown eyes held only cold warning and... disappointment.
"Enough," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Go back to your room."
"Roman, let me explain." My voice caught. I reached for his sleeve. "It wasn't me, it was her—"
Roman's hand moved, but the next second, he pulled away.
"I said," he cut me off, tone brooking no argument, each word like an ice pick stabbing into my heart, "go back to your room."
Then he turned his face away and carefully lifted Vera into his arms.
"Get the doctor," he told the guards rushing over. "Now. Have someone watch Mrs. Sokolova. She doesn't leave her room."
He carried Vera upstairs without looking back. Vera rested against him, and through the gap over his shoulder, those light brown eyes shot me a victor's smile.
I stood frozen, my outstretched hand still suspended in midair.
Pain wracked my entire body—my elbow and knees had bled from the fall, burning hot—but none of it compared to one ten-thousandth of the tearing sensation in my chest. I watched their figures disappear down the corridor, watched that white form fade away, carefully protected in that tall, straight black silhouette.
So this was my place.
Even with everything I'd seen, everything I'd heard, even after experiencing that warm embrace last night—the moment Vera got hurt, I was still nothing.
In his eyes, I wasn't worth a single hair on Vera's head.
I slowly lowered my hand, fingertips touching the cold floor, that chill spreading from my fingertips through my entire body. I looked down at my scraped elbow, at the dust and blood staining my dress, and suddenly felt absurdly pathetic.
I struggled to stand but fell back from pain and exhaustion. Once, twice, three times...
After falling I don't know how many times, I finally broke. Scalding tears burst forth.
Why? What did I do to deserve this?
"Ma'am..." A pair of hands gently supported my arm.
Sofia. She stood behind me somehow, face expressionless except for something extremely complicated in her eyes—something almost like compassion.
I jerked away from her hand, looking up warily.
"Don't touch me." My voice didn't sound like my own.
I didn't need anyone's sympathy.
Sofia froze, slowly withdrawing her hand. She looked at me—at the undried tears on my face and the pathetic injuries covering my body—and finally just sighed deeply.
"Please get up first," she said quietly. "Pakhan... has his reasons."
Reason.
That word again.
I smiled bitterly. Right. Reasons. Because of his reasons, I deserved to be trampled into the mud, deserved to be treated like a villain who pushed someone down the stairs, deserved to watch him hold another woman with such tenderness?
I just sat slumped against the cold floor, back against the railing, staring up at the ornate crystal chandelier on the ceiling. Those cold, brilliant lights dissected what remained of my dignity without mercy.
I closed my eyes. That warm embrace from last night surfaced in my mind again, alongside that cold gaze from just now.
Which was the real Roman Sokolov?
Which one... was the man who once told me "I'll catch you"?
I didn't know.
I only felt tired.
So tired that even breathing felt like a burden.
Maybe Riley was right.
Maybe I really should leave.
Leave this gilded cage. Leave this man full of lies, schemes, and cold eyes.
But why... did my heart hurt so much?
I slowly opened my eyes, staring at that empty corridor at the top of the stairs, tears silently falling once more.