"Kholod, you need to learn the difference between a warhorse that can help you conquer new territory and a canary that only sings pretty songs."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
She put down the scissors and turned around, eyes sharp enough to see straight through any pretense.
"Kholod, whatever old grudges you're carrying, whoever you think your real savior is—you need to remember one thing."
She sat across from me, hands folded elegantly but with undeniable authority.
"You married Noelle Bellucci. You announced in front of all of Philadelphia—hell, all of American high society—that she's your wife. The future mother of the Morozov heir."
"So?"
"So," her voice deepened, "the Morozovs need stability. Her stability is the family's stability. If her position wavers, the Morozovs waver. Do you understand?"
"But she's a fraud." I shot back. "She pretended to be my savior."
"So what?" Mother's counter-question caught me off guard. "Did you really marry her just because of that bracelet?"
"Of course."
"Then why didn't you divorce her immediately and marry Isabella the moment you discovered the truth?"
I opened my mouth but found myself speechless.
"You have feelings for Noelle." Mother continued. "She means more to you than just a savior."
"I..."
"As for Isabella, yes, she's gentle and obedient. But she's not your wife, and she's too perfect to be real. As head of this family, you need someone who'll stand beside you in a crisis, not a nod-along that tells you what you want to hear."
"My son," Mother's voice softened, "don't let emotions become a blade your enemies can turn against you."
She waved her hand dismissively. "Go. Think carefully about what I've said."
I stood and left the study. Mother's words echoed in my head, but I didn't want to listen, didn't want to admit that Noelle had already become more than an obsession.
The next day was surprisingly clear. The snow had stopped, sunlight sparkled on the snow-covered garden, making everything look bright and clean. Isabella suggested we take a walk together. I agreed.
We strolled along the garden paths.
"Kholod," she looked up at me with a radiant smile, "what beautiful weather today!"
"Yeah," I responded.
"I've always wanted to ask," she continued, "why do you support charity work so much?"
"Just feels like the right thing to do."
"You're so kind!" Her eyes were full of admiration. "Not cold like people say..."
I didn't respond. I was cold. She just hadn't seen that side yet.
When we reached a path covered with smooth pebbles, Isabella's foot suddenly slipped.
"Ah—" She cried out, losing her balance, falling toward me.
I instinctively reached out to steady her.
