I woke to the sterile, humming ceiling of a hospital room.
“You’re awake, finally,” a nurse said, relief softening her voice. “You’re in rough shape. We should contact your family.” She hesitated, then added with a sigh, “Miss Evelyn is next door. Barely a scratch, and yet Mr. Volkov hasn’t left her side. Fed her, fluffed her pillows… I thought you two were married. But where’s your family? No one’s shown up in the past two days.”
I gave a hollow smile, offering no words. My grandmother had been gone for two years.
The door exploded open.
Viktor stormed in, a human whirlwind. He didn’t speak at first. He marched forward, knocking the medicine tray from the bedside table. Glass shattered, pills scattered.
His gaze pierced me, sharp and unforgiving.
“You shoved Evelyn into the sea?”
I blinked.
“What?”
Before I could answer, he grabbed my wrist, his grip iron. Pain shot through my arm.
“She told me everything!” he barked. “Do you really think you can get away with this? Testing me? My patience?”
I tried to steady my breathing, the nurse frozen, too afraid to intervene.
“All of it fake? Just to get my attention?” he snapped.
I stayed silent. Didn’t beg. Didn’t plead.
He yanked his hand back, sneering. “Fine. No doctors. No nurses. Handle your mess yourself.”
And he left.
---
The next days were torture. No one checked in. No one changed bandages. I was utterly alone.
I dragged myself to the cabinet, fumbling for supplies. My leg throbbed from the shark bite; the gash across my side burned with every movement. My hands shook as I unscrewed medicine bottles. I fell twice. Hard.
But I rose.
Because I always did. He thought I’d break, thought I’d crumble. He didn’t know me. I had grown up tending to a dying grandmother in a collapsing house with no running water. I learned to care for wounds, tend fevers, and survive on scraps. Nobody had ever cared for me.
---
Six days later, I was ready to leave.
Bag packed, discharge papers signed, body still healing but mind razor-sharp. The door slammed open. Viktor barged in, grabbing my arm.
“Evelyn’s been taken.”
My heart didn’t twitch.
“By Nikolai,” he added, jaw tight.
Nikolai. His cousin. A psychopath. Mafia royalty, cruel, unstable, dangerous.
“What does that have to do with me?” I asked, quiet.
“They want you in exchange,” Viktor said sharply. “You go in. Evelyn comes back safe after four days.”
I stayed silent. Nikolai was the kind who smiled while others screamed. Broke things for sport. Enjoyed watching chaos.
“No,” I said flatly.
Viktor’s expression hardened, unyielding. “You don’t get a choice.” He stepped close, voice low, dangerously calm. “Nikolai’s obsessed with you. Do this cleanly—four days, no harm—and when it’s over…” His eyes locked mine. “…I’ll give you anything you want.”
I studied him for a long moment, then smiled.
“Fine. I want a grand wedding.”
He blinked. “What?”
“We never had a proper one,” I said evenly. “Just a marriage license and security details. I want a real wedding. Guests. Cameras. Vows. Everything.”
He went silent, weighing my words. Probably questioning my sanity. But this was all part of the plan. When Isadora returned, I needed a public stage, a spectacle—the perfect moment to cement her as Mrs. Volkov, publicly, permanently.
Finally, he nodded curtly. “Fine. You’ll get your damn wedding.”
At midnight, they dropped me at Nikolai’s estate. He lounged on a couch like a king, the room thick with spice and cigar smoke.
“Mrs. Volkov,” he drawled, grinning as if I were already his. “Long time no see.”
---
The first two days weren’t unbearable. They didn’t physically touch me in the ways I feared—but they drained my blood. Tube after tube. My arms blackened and blistered, veins aflame with fire.
I could endure the pain. But watching my blood leave me, watching it slowly vanish, gnawed at my soul.
By day three, I was drifting in and out of consciousness when I overheard the guards outside.
“Is he serious?” one whispered. “He says he’ll drain her dry… keep her like a glass doll?”
“Quiet! He said she’s too beautiful. Boss wants her preserved. Like a trophy. Forever.”
My stomach turned. So this was the ‘safe promise’ Viktor had given me? Selling me to a lunatic in a tailored suit?
That night, when the guards’ attention wavered, I seized the crystal ornament from the nightstand, smashing it against the window. The glass exploded. I cut through the ropes binding my wrists and limped to the edge. Without thinking, I jumped.
I felt the crack before the impact—my right ankle twisted violently. Pain exploded through me. Still, bleeding and trembling, I crawled away from that nightmare, all the way back to the Volkov estate.
The door opened to reveal Viktor, kneeling, carefully wrapping a bandage around Evelyn’s ankle.
“She’s been gone four days, Benny. Aren’t you worried?” Evelyn’s voice wobbled.
“I only worry about you,” he said softly, velvet in his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me your leg was hurt? Want me to feel guilty?”
I stood in the doorway, soaked, ankle swollen, and neither of them glanced at me. I drifted past like a ghost.
“Isadora?” Viktor finally spoke, eyes scanning me. “What the hell happened?”
I didn’t respond. Didn’t acknowledge him.
“When’s the wedding?” I asked instead.
Evelyn’s gaze flicked between us, confusion painting her face. “What wedding?”
