I push myself up from the floor, my legs unsteady beneath me. Misha rises too, keeping a careful distance.
"One more question," I say.
"Anything."
"The other women at the auction. Mirella and—and the others. What happened to them?"
His expression flickers. "I don't know."
"Can you find out?"
"Why?"
"Because they were in that room with me. Because they were terrified. Because if my father is responsible for putting them there, then I—" My voice breaks. I force myself to continue. "I need to know if there's anything I can do."
He studies me for a long moment. Something shifts in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Or respect.
"I'll have Alexei look into it," he says.
"Thank you."
The word feels strange in my mouth. Thanking the man who bought me, who lied to me, who watched me for two years without my knowledge.
But he also saved me from something worse. I have to hold both truths at once, even if they don't fit together.
"I'm going to shower," I say. "Change clothes. Try to eat something."
"Mrs. Novak will bring you whatever you need."
I nod and turn toward the door. My hand is on the handle when his voice stops me.
"Bianca."
I don't turn around. "What?"
"I'm sorry. For all of it. For leaving, for lying, for not finding another way. I know it doesn't change anything. But I need you to know."
I stand there, frozen, his words settling over me like ash.
"You're right," I say quietly. "It doesn't change anything."
I walk out without looking back.
Chapter 6 - Misha
The chair is still warm where she sat.
I don't move for a long time after she leaves. The study feels different now—smaller, somehow, like her presence expanded it and her absence has contracted it back to its original dimensions. The faint scent of her lingers in the air, something floral beneath the stale smell of fear and exhaustion.
It doesn't change anything.
I knew it wouldn't. Apologies are just words, and words don't undo two years of silence. They don't undo the lies or the surveillance or the fact that I bought her at an auction like she was livestock. She has every right to hate me.
But hearing her say it—watching her walk out without looking back—that landed somewhere I wasn't expecting.
I push the feeling aside. There's no room for it. Sentiment is a luxury I can't afford, not with Sergei Morozov circling and Bianca's life hanging in the balance.
My phone buzzes. Alexei.
