"Kirill." She spoke, voice soft.
"Yeah?" My Adam's applebobbed.
"There are some things I think we should clear up." She took a deep breath, looked me straight in the eye with devastating honesty. "I'm sure you know I like you."
My heart skipped a beat.
Guessing was one thing. Hearing her say it out loud was another. But before I could process that sentence, her next words hit me like ice water.
"I know it's stupid. Even though we signed an agreement, even though I know we're from two different worlds, I still made that mistake." She pulled at the corner of her mouth, producing a smile uglier than crying.
I panicked a little. She was calling her feelings for me a mistake? What was she planning to do next? Correct it? Take it back?
"Harper, I—"
"Don't talk. Let me finish." She cut me off, no accusation in her tone, just heartbreaking clarity. "I know now who that woman in the portrait is. I'm not holding onto any illusions. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in this house. You've already helped me more than enough."
"What do you mean?" I narrowed my eyes, voice turning cold.
"I mean we're going back to the original terms. I'll honor the contract, keep playing the good wife. But starting tonight, I'm moving to the guest room. If Olga gets suspicious, or if we need to put on a show, I can sleep on the floor in this room. Or the couch."
She looked at me, eyes hollow, as if she'd already extracted the soul that loved me.
"I won't bother you anymore. And I won't... delude myself into thinking I can have your love."
I looked at her, eyebrows knit tight.
Wasn't this exactly what I'd been after? An obedient, uncomplicated wife. Harper looked so calm now, so rational—exactly what I'd demanded from the start.
She was planning to take her heart back, close the door, and kick me completely out of her world.
Panic.
A massive, unprecedented panic punched through my heart. Worse than seeing her cry earlier. Worse than the gunshot wound in my abdomen by ten thousand times.
How could I let her go?
Harper finished speaking. Seemed to think there was nothing left worth staying for. She picked up the medical kit and turned toward the door.
"Goodnight, Kirill."
Watching her walk away, my body reacted before my brain.
"Stop!"
I ignored the searing pain in my abdomen and shot to my feet. The movement was too sudden—I felt the stitches tear slightly, warmth flooding out. But I didn't care.
I closed the distance in two strides and grabbed her wrist.
"Ah!" Harper stumbled from the force. The medical kit crashed to the floor.
I didn't give her time to react. I yanked her back hard and crushed her against me.
"Let me go!" Harper started struggling. Her elbow hit my wound in the chaos.
I grunted, cold sweat breaking out instantly. My vision went black for a second.
But I didn't let go. Instead, I locked my left arm around her waist and pinned her between me and the wall, like I wanted to fuse her into my bones.
