In the living room, several men and women in elegant suits directed assistants carrying gift boxes branded with luxury logos—Chanel, Dior, Hermès, Van Cleef & Arpels...
"Mrs. Morozov, hello." A woman who looked like a manager approached with a perfect smile. "Mr. Morozov ordered this season's complete collection for you. Are you available for fittings now?"
I stared at those towering boxes, nausea rising from my stomach.
This was compensation, wasn't it? His way of gilding brutality with money.
"No need." My voice was cold. "Just leave them there."
"But ma'am..." The manager looked troubled. "Mr. Morozov specifically requested we ensure every piece fits properly..."
"I said no." I cut her off, turning to leave.
Just then, Anastasia emerged from the study. She glanced at the items in the living room, her expression unreadable.
"Take these to her bedroom," she told the butler, her voice calm but brooking no argument.
I stood halfway up the stairs, watching them begin moving everything, emotions churning inside me.
Anastasia looked up at me, her gaze loaded with meaning—assessing, evaluating.
Anya returned from outside, saw the scene, jealousy flashing in her eyes before turning to mockery.
"Wow," she deliberately raised her voice, "looks like someone's really good at pleasing my brother. So many gifts—your methods are impressive."
"Anya." Anastasia's voice carried a warning.
"I'm just stating facts." Anya shrugged, walking to the pile of boxes and casually opening a Hermès one. "Birkin, and Himalayan too. Noelle, you're really lucky."
I ignored her and headed upstairs.
"Noelle." Anastasia suddenly called out.
I turned and nodded. "Yes?"
"Men express affection in ways that can be... difficult to accept," her expression was inscrutable, "but you must learn to value it."
"Yes, thank you for the guidance." I curtsied politely, not taking her words to heart at all.
Back in the bedroom, the jewelry had been properly arranged in the vanity's jewelry cabinet, and Darya was directing several maids in organizing the clothes. Looking at them, I felt only deep revulsion.
Did he think this could erase everything? That money could buy my compliance?
I sat on the bed's edge, picking up the new phone Kholod had given me—strictly limited functions, contacts containing only a few people, including my mother and Isabella, whom I'd added myself.
As I stared at the phone, it suddenly rang.
Sofia.
I hesitated for a few seconds, then finally answered.
"Noelle!" My mother's voice came through, barely containing her urgency. "You finally answered! You haven't been returning my messages, I thought..."
"I'm fine, Mother." I cut her off, my voice weary.
"Good." She sighed with relief, then immediately shifted topics. "Noelle, I heard the Morozov family has a big dock project. Could you mention it to Kholod, get us involved? Even just a small piece..."
I closed my eyes, helplessness washing over me.
