Chapter 6 – Mike
A week passes after the wedding, and the mansion settles into a strained imitation of domestic life.
Nothing about it feels stable.
The routines that once governed my world—early briefings, security assessments, strategic calls—are constantly interrupted by the volatile presence of my new wife. I can hardly concentrate, knowing she’s in the same house with me and yet refuses any form of communication between us.
Ellie moves through the estate like a displaced force. Restless. Furious. Unwilling to adapt to confinement.
She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t cry.
Instead, she resists me in quieter ways. Steady ways.
Every morning, she sits across from me at breakfast, silent but visibly bristling with tension. When she finishes eating, she rises and walks to the library, where she spends the entire day. I doubt she reads much. The library has simply become her territory.
At night, we return to the bedroom.
The same bed.
We lie beside each other without touching.
It’s torture.
Every morning, she asks the same question: “Can I return to the university laboratory?”
Every morning, I give the same answer: “No.”
I don’t look up from my plate. I don’t offer an explanation. I simply continue eating.
Ellie never argues.
She finishes her breakfast, pushes her chair back, and leaves the dining room.
And we don’t see each other again until nightfall.
It’s wearing me down—the fact that she doesn’t understand I’m trying to keep her safe. What else can I do to make her understand?
I’m at the breakfast table again this morning when I hear her footsteps coming down the stairs.
My pulse quickens instantly. My heart pounds in my chest like a man half my age seeing a woman for the first time.
She appears in the doorway wearing a soft fur sweater and black pants. Simple. Elegant. Beautiful.
I stare a little too long before I can stop myself.
She doesn’t look at me.
She doesn’t greet me.
She walks to the table, pulls out her chair, and sits down as if I’m nothing more than another piece of furniture in the room.
She begins to eat.
I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything she does. The way she lifts the fork. The way her hair falls over one shoulder. The quiet rhythm of her breathing.
I force myself to swallow the food in my mouth, though it feels like gravel going down.
A few minutes pass in silence.
She finishes eating, takes a sip of water, then finally looks at me.
Her gaze is steady and determined. I already know what she’s about to say.
“I’d like to return to the laboratory and continue my work,” she says. “You can’t take my life away from me.”
The words spark irritation immediately.
My jaw tightens.
“You act like I’m the one who kidnapped you with the intent to hurt you,” I say, setting my fork down. “Ellie, I saved you.”
Her chair scrapes slightly as she leans forward.
“I wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t put me on the map in the first place.”
That lands harder than I expect. I drag a hand through my hair, trying to keep my temper in check.
“I’m trying to make it right,” I say. “Do you understand that? Everything I’m doing right now is to protect you.”
She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Protect me?”
Her eyes sweep around the massive dining room.
“You married me to keep me safe. Fine. I didn’t have a choice in that.” Her voice sharpens. “But do you really have to lock me up like a prisoner too?”
I stare at her.
God, she has no idea what’s out there.
“No one’s locking you up,” I say, though it sounds weak even to my ears.
Her eyebrows lift. “Oh, really? Because from where I’m sitting, I’m not allowed to leave the house, I’m not allowed to work, and I’m not allowed to go anywhere without your approval.”
She pushes her chair back slightly.
“That sounds exactly like a prison to me, Mike.”
Her refusal to accept protection unsettles me more than fear ever could.
Most people understand danger when they see it. They shrink from it. They listen.
Ellie does the opposite.
“If this is prison to you, Ellie,” I say slowly, “then so be it. I’ll keep you safe whether you like it or not.”
“Safe?” She lets out a short laugh that carries no amusement. “You’re failing to keep me safe.”
My head lifts. “What?”
She leans forward slightly, eyes blazing now.
“If you were actually capable of protecting me, you wouldn’t have to hide me inside this house like some fragile object.”
The words land like a slap.
“You should be able to prove you can protect me when I’m outside. When I’m actually at risk.”
I feel my jaw tighten, but she keeps going.
“If this is your idea of safety, then I can do the same thing myself. I could lock myself inside my own apartment.”
Her voice sharpens.
“I don’t need to be married to you to do that.”
For a moment, the room feels very still.
Her implication sits between us, heavy and deliberate.
My power. My reputation. My ability to control every threat that comes near me.
She’s questioning all of it.
And she knows it.
The challenge strikes deeper than I allow myself to show.
Ellie pushes her chair back and stands.
For a second, I think she might say something else, but she doesn’t.
She simply turns and walks out of the dining room, leaving the silence behind her.
I sit there for a long time after she’s gone. My meal sits untouched before me, forgotten as I try to make sense of the situation.
I’m not used to problems I cannot solve.
How exactly am I supposed to find the balance between keeping Ellie safe and making her happy?
“Boss?”
I look up.
Sergei stands at the entrance of the dining room.
Over the past week, he’s made himself indispensable. While my attention keeps drifting back to Ellie, he quietly holds the rest of my world together. He handles logistics personally, brings updates without being asked, and adjusts security operations when he notices I’ve missed something.
“Yeah?” I say.
He walks closer to the table.
“The guards at the gate noticed something,” he says. “Minor activity for now. The same car has been driving past the estate every day this week.”
My body stills. “Identified?”
“Not yet,” Sergei replies. “But they’re watching.”
That is enough for me.
I push my chair back and stand.
“Increase surveillance,” I say immediately. “Double the guards at the outer perimeter. Cameras on the north and west approach need to be monitored live.”
Sergei nods once.
“Also, reroute internal communications through the secure channel,” I continue. “No casual radio chatter. I want everything logged.”
“Understood.”
He turns to leave.
“Sergei,” I call.
He pauses at the doorway.
“Move quickly.”
He nods and steps into the hall.
Then he stops.
Slowly, he turns back toward me.
“There’s something else, Boss,” he says.
I wait.
His expression is calm, but there’s something measured in his eyes.
“I think Ellie is destabilizing your judgment.”
I frown. “What?”
Sergei purses his lips.
“It’s true,” he says evenly. “You’ve been distracted this week. I’m saying it because I care. You need to focus and return to business as usual.”
My eyes narrow slightly.
I straighten in my chair, letting the weight of my authority settle back into the room.
“I just got married,” I say, my voice controlled but firm. “There’s an adjustment period. That doesn’t mean I’ve lost control of my operations.”
Sergei says nothing.
“I’m still running everything,” I continue. “Every deal is moving forward. Every security layer is in place. Nothing in my business has stopped.”
I lean back slightly, watching him.
“So no, Sergei. I don’t see how this has any long-term implications.”
Sergei studies me for a moment before speaking again.
“The question isn’t whether the business is still running,” he says carefully. “The question is whether allowing emotional influence into your decisions is wise.”
My jaw tightens.
“In our world,” he continues, “enemies don’t attack strength directly. They look for leverage.”
His voice remains respectful, but the meaning is clear.
“And wives,” he says quietly, “have historically been leverage.”
The room goes silent.
I understand what he’s implying.
He isn’t criticizing Ellie.
He’s warning me about weakness.
I listen, but I don’t agree with the direction he’s taking.
“That’s enough,” I say.
Sergei stops speaking immediately.
“Don’t bring this up again.”
For a moment, he holds my gaze, then bows his head slightly.
“Of course, Boss.”
He turns and walks out of the dining room, leaving me alone again with the cold remains of breakfast and the echo of his warning.
For the rest of the week, I try to focus on business, pushing Ellie out of my mind, but it’s impossible. She’s been ignoring me all week, every glance, every word carefully measured to avoid me. Still, her presence in the house unsettles me more than any rival ever could.
By the end of the week, I finally get a break from the tension when my brother Timofey arrives from Athens. He wasn’t at my wedding due to mission obligations, but today, he comes straight from the airport.
Timofey, like all Rusnak brothers, works for the family.
He’s an enforcer and a tactical operations commander.
We’re very close, but he and I always clash when it comes to business.
He loved it when I was an assassin; we moved together like a well-oiled machine, hunting, eliminating, crushing.
He thrives on dominance and intimidation.
I left that life behind, became a negotiator, and he balked, but eventually he respected the path I chose.
Still, he never misses an opportunity to remind me of the “good old days.”
He arrives just before breakfast, towering, muscles larger than the last time I saw him, curly hair loose around his face. A familiar grin stretches across his face as he slaps my shoulders.
“Happy married life, eh? Back from your honeymoon so quickly.”
I roll my eyes, brushing him off. “Quit playing, Timofey. You know why I had to marry her.”
I told him everything that led up to the marriage, and like the rest of my brothers, he approved.
He nods once. “You’re right,” he says. “That was a smooth political move.”
But his eyes betray scrutiny. He’s measuring and calculating like always.
I lean back, testing him. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
He shakes his head, a faint smirk on his lips. “I just want to meet your wife.”
I glance toward the stairs, where Ellie will appear any moment. “Good. Join me for breakfast. She’ll be here any moment now.”
Almost five minutes later, Ellie descends. Usually, she doesn’t acknowledge me at the table, but when she sees we have a guest, she manages a restrained smile and murmurs, “Good morning.”
I return her smile and say, “Ellie, meet Timofey, one of my many cousins. The Rusnaks are…a very big family.”
She nods politely, taking Timofey’s hand. “It’s a pleasure.”
Timofey mirrors her formality, his grip firm. “Likewise.”
She sits, and breakfast begins. Conversation is polite, casual, but I notice the way she subtly measures him, and how he subtly measures her.
By the time we finish, she announces she’ll head to the library and disappears quietly, leaving me to escort Timofey to my office.
Today, she doesn’t push to go to the lab. A small relief, because I don’t know how much longer I can continue to say no.
We enter the office. Timofey clears his throat as he sits down, folding his hands on the desk.
I pour us drinks, take a seat, and glance at him. “I know you have something on your mind.”
He downs his vodka in one gulp and wipes his mouth with his arm. “It’s about your wife.”
“Spit it out.”
He leans back slightly. “Ellie doesn’t look like a woman who will remain compliant for long.”
My chest tightens, but I brush it off, forcing a calm exterior. “I’m aware. But don’t worry, I know how to take care of her.”
The words spill from my lips before I can stop them. Timofey’s brows shoot up, and I look away, grabbing my laptop, eager to change the conversation.
“I’ve been working on finding out who sent those men after her that night. Here’s what I found.” I turn the screen toward him. His expression immediately turns serious.
Without another word, we both get to work. Plans, reports, surveillance data—our conversation drops to business, though my thoughts keep drifting to Ellie and the quiet storm that waits upstairs.