Chapter 19 – Valeria
I’m on the bed.
In our bedroom.
The room feels too bright. Too full. Like the air itself is crowded with people I can hear but not fully process.
There’s a pressure in my head, heavy and dull, like my thoughts are moving through water. My mouth feels dry—too dry to speak properly, too heavy to form anything clear.
I try to swallow.
It hurts.
The doctor is here. I can see him moving at the edge of my vision—controlled, focused, too calm in a way that doesn’t comfort me.
Staff are around too. Voices overlapping. Footsteps. Fabric shifting. Someone moving a tray. Someone else speaking too fast.
Elena is here.
I hear her before I fully see her.
She’s crying.
“No, no—please, she was fine before I left her,” she’s saying, her voice breaking. “Please, is she okay?”
Her words dissolve into panic.
I try to turn my head toward her, but even that feels heavy. Slow.
“Elena…” I attempt, but it comes out barely above a whisper.
My throat is dry. Burning.
The doctor says something I can’t quite catch. His tone is soft, but there’s something underneath it I don’t like. Something careful.
I blink slowly, trying to focus.
My hand moves instinctively toward my stomach.
That’s when fear finally cuts through the fog.
My baby.
My heart tightens sharply.
I try to speak again, stronger this time.
“What—” My voice cracks. I clear my throat, swallowing again, wincing. “What happened?”
No one answers immediately.
That silence is worse than anything else in the room.
Elena is still crying somewhere to my left. I hear her say my name. Over and over. Like repetition can fix something that already feels broken.
I try to sit up.
A hand gently presses me back down. The doctor. Firm but careful.
“No,” he says quietly. “Stay still.”
My breathing quickens.
“Tell me,” I manage, my voice thinner now. “Tell me. My—”
The words feel like they take everything I have left.
Before I can finish, the door flies open.
Timofey.
He bursts in like the room itself called him here—eyes sharp, wild with fear that hasn’t settled yet. His gaze locks onto me instantly.
“Get out. Everyone get out,” he growls.
There’s no hesitation. No argument.
The room clears almost immediately—staff rushing out, Elena still crying as she’s guided away, Misha lingering only a second longer before the door shuts behind them.
Silence drops hard.
Timofey is at my side in seconds.
“Valeria,” he says, voice lower now. Controlled—but strained at the edges. “Are you alright?”
I nod quickly. Too quickly. Like I need him to believe it before I fully believe it myself.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, finding my voice again now that he’s here. “I’m okay.”
My hand moves instinctively.
“My baby,” I say immediately. “Timofey—my baby.”
His expression shifts instantly. Focus sharpens. The fear doesn’t leave his face. He turns to the doctor without looking away from me.
“How is the baby?” The question is flat.
The doctor pauses just briefly, then exhales, and a small, controlled smile appears on his face.
“The baby is fine,” he says calmly.
For a second, I don’t move. I don’t breathe properly.
Then it hits me all at once.
Relief.
It rushes through me so fast my body gives out slightly. I sag against Timofey before I even realize it. He catches me immediately.
His arms tighten around me, steadying me against his chest like he’s afraid I might disappear if he loosens his grip even a little.
“I’ve got you,” he says quietly.
The doctor clears his throat gently, stepping closer to the bedside.
“The poison she consumed was dangerous,” he explains, voice measured, professional. “But it was administered in a small enough dose. Immediate treatment prevented serious damage.”
“If she had delayed seeking help…” he continues carefully, “the outcome could have been far more severe.”
The words hang in the air. I feel Timofey go still for half a second. Then relief moves through him so sharply I feel it in the way his arms tremble slightly around me.
He exhales slowly, pressing his forehead briefly closer to mine, as if grounding himself in the fact that I’m still here. Still breathing.
“Thank you,” he says to the doctor. His voice is steady again, but lower now. Rough at the edges.
The doctor nods once, gathers his tools, and begins to leave.
“Rest,” he adds before stepping out. “No stress. No exertion.”
Then the door closes behind him.
Silence returns.
But it doesn’t feel empty. Not anymore.
Timofey doesn’t move. Not even when the footsteps fade outside. Not even when the room settles back into stillness.
He stays exactly where he is—holding me. Like he made a decision he isn’t willing to reconsider.
I shift slightly against him, and his grip tightens instinctively in response.
“I’m fine,” I whisper again, softer now.
“I know,” he replies immediately.
But he still doesn’t let go.
“What happened?” he asks finally. His voice is lower now, controlled—but there’s something sharp underneath it. Something dangerous he’s already trying to contain.
I swallow, my throat still dry, but I force the words out anyway.
“I don’t understand,” I say slowly. “I only had one thing today.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“The soup,” I continue. “Someone brought it from the kitchen. I didn’t think anything of it. It was normal. It looked normal.”
My fingers tighten faintly against his shirt.
“Everything here has been checked,” I add, my voice shaking just a little now. “Elena monitors everything. The staff—security—it’s all supposed to be controlled.”
Silence settles between us again. But this time it’s not calm. It’s loaded.
Timofey’s jaw tightens. I feel it under my cheek before I even see it.
“Then someone inside this estate is responsible,” he says quietly.
Not a question. A conclusion.
I lift my eyes to his. “Timofey—”
“I’ll handle it,” he cuts in immediately. His voice is firm now. Absolute. “Personally.”
Something in his expression shifts—cold, focused, already moving away from me mentally into whatever he’s about to do next.
He starts to pull back.
That’s when I grab him.
Not hard. Just enough. Enough to stop him.
“No,” I say quickly. “Don’t leave.”
His gaze snaps back to me.
I swallow again, my voice smaller now. Honest.
“Stay with me.”
He exhales slowly. Like he’s forcing something down.
Then, without a word, he bends down and removes his shoes.
He climbs onto the bed carefully. And then he lies beside me.
Pulls me into him immediately.
No distance. No hesitation.
Just arms around me again—steady, firm, present. Like the world outside doesn’t exist in this space.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly.
I believe him completely.
“I’ve had Lukyan call Sofia,” he says. “She’ll be here soon.”
A smile curves my lips. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you.” He kisses my hair and holds me closer.