I woke up staring at a hospital ceiling.
"You’re awake, finally," a nurse said, relief in her voice. "You’re in really bad shape. We need to call your family."
She hesitated, then said with a sigh, "Miss Maeve’s next door. Barely hurt, but Mr. Karsov hasn’t left her side. Fed her soup, fluffed her pillows. I thought you two were married, but... where is your family? No one came these two days."
I smiled without warmth and didn’t answer. My grandma was already dead. She died two years ago.
The door burst open.
Benedict.
He stormed in like a bomb with legs. He didn’t say a word at first. Just walked up and knocked the medicine tray clean off the bedside table. Glass shattered across the floor. Pills scattered.
His eyes locked on mine like knives.
"You push Maeve into the sea?"
I blinked.
What?
I didn’t even get a chance to respond before he grabbed my wrist. His grip was brutal. The pain shot up my arm.
"She told me everything!" he snapped. "You really think you’re gonna get away with that?! You're really testing my patience!”
I tried to breathe through the pain. The nurse was too afraid to intervene.
"Was that all fake? You just wanted my attention, huh?"
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t beg. That seemed to set him off more. He yanked his hand back and sneered.
"Fine. No doctors. No nurses. Handle it on your own."
Then he left.
**
The next few days were hell. No check-ins. No bandage changes. No one came.
I dragged myself to the cabinet for supplies. Changed my own dressings. My leg throbbed from the shark bite and my side burned from the gash. My hands shook every time I opened a medicine bottle.
I fell twice. Hard.
But I got up.
Because I always did. He thought I’d break.
But he didn’t know me. I grew up taking care of a dying grandmother in a crumbling house with no running water. I learned to clean wounds, lower fevers, and survive on scraps. No one ever took care of me.
**
Six days later, I was ready to leave.
Bag packed. Discharge papers signed. My body was still healing, but my mind was sharper than ever. Then the door slammed open. Benedict stormed in and grabbed my arm.
“Maeve got taken.”
My heart didn’t move.
He added, jaw clenched, “By Damon.”
Damon.
His cousin.
The psychopath. Another mafia mob boss. Dangerous. Unstable. Cruel for sport.
“The hell does that have to do with me?” I asked quietly.
“They want you in exchange,” he snapped. “You go in. Maeve gets released. After four days.”
I didn’t speak.
Damon was the type who smiled while people screamed. The kind who broke things just to see if they’d cry.
“No,” I said flatly.
Benedict’s face turned to stone. “You don’t get a choice.” He stepped closer. Voice low, like a threat disguised as logic. “Damon’s obsessed with you. But if we do this clean… four days, he won’t hurt you. And when it’s done…” His eyes flicked to mine. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
I looked at him. Really looked. And then I smiled.
“Fine. I want a grand wedding.”
He blinked. “What?”
“We never had a real one,” I said, voice steady. “Just a marriage license and a security detail. I want a proper wedding. With guests. Cameras. Vows. Everything.”
He went silent. Thinking. Probably wondering if I’d gone insane.
But it was part of the plan.
When Alodia returned, I’d need a public stage. A spectacle. A perfect moment to hand her the title of Mrs. Karsov. Publicly. Permanently.
He finally gave a curt nod. “Fine. I’ll give you your damn wedding.”
Then they dropped me off at Damon's estate at midnight and Damon was already waiting… lounging on the couch like a king. The room smelled like spice and cigars.
“Mrs. Karsov,” he drawled, grinning like I was already his. “Been a while.”
**
The first two days weren’t the worst. They didn’t touch me. Not in the way I feared. But they took my blood. Tube after tube. Over and over.
My arms turned black and blue. Skin blistered. My veins felt like fire.
I could handle the pain. But watching it, watching my own blood leave me, unraveled something inside.
By the third day, I was slipping in and out of consciousness when I overheard the guards outside my door.
“Is he serious?” one whispered. “Says he’s gonna drain her dry… and keep her in a glass box like a trophy?”
“Shut up. He said she’s too pretty. The boss wants to preserve her. Like a doll. Forever.”
My breath caught.
So this was the nothing-will-happen promise Benedict gave me?
Selling me off to a lunatic in a tailored suit?
That night, I waited. When the guards were distracted, I grabbed the crystal ornament on the nightstand and smashed it into the window. The glass exploded. I sliced through the rope binding my wrists, then limped to the edge. Without thinking, I jumped.
I heard the crack before I felt it. My right ankle folded the wrong way when I hit the ground. The pain was white-hot. Still, I dragged myself away from that hell, bleeding and shaking, all the way back to the Karsov estate.
I pushed the door open.
There he was. Benedict, down on one knee, gently wrapping a bandage around Maeve’s ankle.
Maeve’s voice wobbled like she was about to cry. “Benny, she’s been gone four days. Aren’t you worried at all?”
Benedict paused, his voice soft like velvet. “I only worry about you. Why didn’t you tell me you hurt your leg? You want me to feel guilty?”
I stood in the doorway, soaked through, ankle swollen to twice its size. Neither of them even looked at me.
I walked past like a ghost.
“Alodia?” He stood up, eyes flicking over me. “What the hell happened?”
I didn’t answer his concern. Didn’t even believe it was real. “When’s the wedding?”
Maeve turned to him, confused. “What wedding?”
