"Mother..."
"I know it's difficult, but Noelle, you're a Morozov now. You need to learn to use that position." Her voice carried natural expectation. "All that education you received—wasn't it for this day? Did you learn what I taught you last time? You need to learn to please your husband, make him..."
"Enough." I interrupted, suppressed anger in my voice. "Mom, I'm not your tool for profit."
"What are you saying?" Her voice rose. "I'm your mother! This is for your own good, for our family! Noelle, you have to understand—only Kholod can save us now..."
"Then go beg him yourself. Don't go through me."
"Noelle!"
I hung up.
The phone immediately rang again. I hit decline.
She called again.
I turned it off.
The room fell silent again. Sitting on the bed's edge, I felt like a doll being torn apart from all directions.
Kholod wanted me to be the perfect wife.
Mother wanted me to save the family.
But no one asked who I wanted to be.
I stood and wandered aimlessly around the room, entering the walk-in closet to look at those luxurious things. They lay there quietly, like elegant shackles.
I didn't want to touch any of them.
For the next three days, I barely left my room.
Anastasia didn't mention learning rules again, as if she'd forgotten I existed. Anya rarely appeared either. When we occasionally met at meals, she'd just glance at me without much conversation. I welcomed the peace.
At night, I curled up on the sofa by the bedroom fireplace, reading my geography magazine. This issue focused on Northern Europe, with extensive coverage of Norway's fjords.
I stared at those photos, imagining myself standing in that pure landscape, breathing cold, free air.
If I could escape this place...
If I could regain freedom...
Just as I lost myself in fantasy, the door suddenly burst open.
I startled, the magazine sliding to the floor.
Kholod stood in the doorway, still wearing his outdoor coat, carrying the chill and cigar scent with him.
He was back.
His gaze swept the room before settling on me.
"What are you wearing?" His voice was calm, yet sent chills through me.
I looked down at myself—still that plain cotton dress, simple and modest, though it clashed completely with this luxurious manor.
"Is there a problem?" I asked back.
