16. Terms and Consequences #2
I hadn’t slept—not really. A few times during the night, I’d rested my head near Nikolai’s hand, but every twitch of the heart monitor, every set of footsteps in the corridor, every nurse stepping in to check his vitals brought me right back.
The vinyl chair had turned miserable hours ago, but I didn’t care. I stayed put.
A soft knock sounded at the door. I didn’t bother answering, but it opened anyway.
Lev stepped in, carrying a garment bag in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other. His eyes went straight to my chest—the blood had dried into a stiff, dark brown crust against the fabric.
“Sir.”
I kept my eyes on Nikolai. “How long?”
“You’ve been in this room since yesterday afternoon.”
“That wasn’t my question. How long were you standing outside before you finally built up the courage to walk in?”
Lev didn’t skip a beat. “About ten minutes.”
“You should’ve come in.”
“I wasn’t sure you wanted the intrusion.”
“Hm.”
He gave a slight, familiar nod, setting the coffee down on the bedside table. “Brought you fresh clothes.”
Silence stretched between us again.
“The surgical team says Mr. Levin is stable,” Lev offered quietly.
I already knew that. I’d asked the lead nurse. And the floor doctor. And the orderly who brought the fresh IV bags. Every single hour.
“They also expect him to regain consciousness.”
“When?”
“They can’t give an exact timeframe.”
I looked down at Nikolai’s fingers still resting in mine. “I’ll wait.”
“I didn’t doubt that for a second.” Lev paused, glancing toward the hall. “Your mother is downstairs.”
That finally got my attention. My eyes snapped up. “When did she get in?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“And?”
“I informed her you hadn’t slept and were refusing visitors.”
A ghost of a smile touched my mouth. “And she actually listened to you?”
“Not in the slightest. She said she’d wait in the private lobby.”
That was typical. I gave a single nod. “Send her up.”
Lev stayed put. “Sir…”
“What?”
“You should change first.”
“Later.”
“You’ve been wearing clothes caked in blood for nearly twenty-four hours.”
“I’m aware.”
“There’s a smear on your collar.”
“I know, Lev.”
He hesitated, measuring his next words carefully. “Mr. Levin won’t care about your shirt when he opens his eyes.”
I looked back down at Nikolai’s pale face. “No. He won’t.”
“Then let me take over watch for twenty minutes while you wash up.”
“I promised him I’d protect him,” I said softly, my fingers tightening just enough to feel his pulse beneath his skin. “I’ve already failed him once today. I’m not walking out that door and leaving him alone.”
Lev looked at me for a long beat, realizing there was no arguing with the look in my eyes. He nodded. “I’ll bring Madam Romanov up.”
He reached for the heavy door.
“Lev.”
He stopped, turning back. “Sir?”
“…Thank you.”
The rigid line of his posture softened just a fraction. “He’s going to pull through, Zhenya.”
“I know.”
It wasn’t blind optimism, nor was it wishful thinking. It was pure necessity. I simply refused to accept any other outcome.
A minute later, another knock came—softer this time, gentler.
Mother slipped silently into the room.
For a long moment, she didn’t say a word. She simply walked over to the edge of the bed, looked down at Nikolai, and then turned her gaze to me.
“You look terrible.”
“I’ve looked worse.”
“No,” she said, a faint, wry smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I really don’t think you have.”
She pulled up the chair opposite mine and sat down. Silence settled over us for almost a minute, filled only by the rhythmic, steady beep of the heart monitor.
She was the first to break it. “I heard he survived the surgery.”
I nodded. “They said the next twenty-four hours are critical.”
“He’ll wake up.”
I looked over at her. “You sound certain.”
“I am. That boy has lived through things that would have broken most people. This isn’t going to be what finishes him.”
She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “There are a few things you need to know.”
I already knew where this was going. “Mikhail.”
She gave a single nod. “Pronounced dead at the scene.”
I stared down at the floorboards. Nothing. I felt absolutely nothing.
“The press has the story,” she continued. “They know he was found in an abandoned warehouse, that Romanov Security was on site, and that shots were fired. They don’t have the full details yet, but they’ll speculate. They always do.”
I stayed silent, letting her speak.
“Romanov Insurance halted trading for the day,” she said. “The board is in a complete panic. They’ve called me six times. I ignored every single one.”
I finally met her eyes. “…Thank you.”
“They can survive forty-eight hours without a chairman.” She paused, a rare flicker of amusement touching her face. “Irina, on the other hand…”
For the first time all morning, Mother actually rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen anyone cycle through the stages of grief quite so dramatically.”
I subtle frown crossed my face. “She’s grieving?”
“Oh, she’s putting on quite the performance,” Mother said dryly. “She screamed at the police, threatened three separate journalists, blamed the government, blamed you, blamed me. At one point, I believe she was yelling at the hospital valet.”
Despite the weight in my chest, a small breath escaped me.
Mother noticed.
“She also demanded Dmitry have you arrested on the spot.”
“And?”
“He told her to get out.”
That surprised me. “He did what?”
Mother nodded. “He told her, ‘If my son says Mikhail shot Nikolai first, then that is precisely what happened.’”
Silence settled between us again. After everything that had passed between Father and me, I hadn’t expected that.
Mother stood up and placed a light, reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You don’t need to concern yourself with any of that today. The press, the company, the police—I’ll handle them. You stay here.” Her eyes softened as she looked at Nikolai. “…Where you belong.”
She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze and turned toward the door. Just before turning the handle, she paused and looked back at me.
“You chose well, Zhenya.”
My eyes drifted back to the quiet figure resting in the hospital bed. “…I know.”
The door clicked shut, leaving us alone in the quiet once again.
* * *
The door opened again around noon the next day.
Father stepped inside. His eyes went straight to Nikolai before landing on me.
“Come outside,” he said.
I didn’t budge. “Why?”
“I want a word with you.”
I hesitated, then stood up and followed him out into the quiet corridor.
“You should go home tonight,” Father said, keeping his voice low.
“No.”
“You haven’t slept.”
“I’ll sleep in there.”
He shot me a look. “You need a proper bed, Zhenya.”
“I’m fine where I am.”
A sigh. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
He stared at me for a beat, searching my face, before letting out a slow breath. “Fine. Have it your way.”
I raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“The police will need your official statement tomorrow morning,” he continued. “Lev told me he briefed you.”
“He did.”
“They’re going to ask for every detail—from the second you stepped into that warehouse until Mikhail was killed.”
“I’m aware.”
“And then there’s the press…” He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “They’re spinning it as a Romanov blood feud. They’ve already linked Mikhail’s death directly to the board dispute.”
“Let them speculate.”
“It’s not that simple,” Father said sternly.
“The Romanov name is plastered across every headline in the country right now. Every tabloid has its own theory about what went down.” He glanced through the glass panel of the door, toward Nikolai.
“And once he wakes up, the media circus will only double.”
I looked at him flatly. “What are you getting at?”
“Leave.”
I frowned. “Leave Russia?”
“For a few months. Three, at least.”
I stared at him, taking that in. “Three months?”
“At minimum. Go anywhere you want.” He paused, his tone shifting into something surprisingly firm. “Find somewhere quiet. Somewhere far away from the cameras where nobody can track you down.”
I glanced back toward the room. “Why?”
“Because right now, every news outlet in Moscow is hunting for a scandal,” he said, his voice hardening. “You don’t need to hand them one on a silver platter.”
I stayed quiet, processing the logic behind it.
Father turned toward the hallway exit. “When he wakes up and the doctors clear him, take him and get out of the country. Disappear for a while. Let the legal teams and the company clean up the wreckage.”
He stopped near the end of the corridor and looked back over his shoulder.
“And Zhenya…”
“What?”
“Don’t let them tail you.”
I gave him a single nod. He turned and walked away.
I went back inside and let the door click shut behind me. Nikolai was still motionless under the sheets, his breathing soft and steady.
I dragged the chair back up to the side of the bed and sat down, taking his cold hand in mine again.
Three months away from Moscow, away from the Romanov name, away from the noise… it didn’t sound like exile at all.
It sounded like the only thing that could save us.