"I'm sorry, Kirill, I'm so sorry..." She shook her head, tears streaming. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have gone to the party. Or—I shouldn't have come to you at all."
I frowned. "Don't talk like that. You're my guest."
"No, I upset Harper." She looked up at me through tears, her eyes full of guilt and fear. "On the stairs, she told me to get out of the manor. I should've just agreed. But I tried to explain. I just wanted somewhere to have the baby..."
Genevie choked up, unable to continue. She buried her face in her hands and wept.
"Stop." I felt like someone had dropped a boulder on my chest. "This isn't your fault."
Not Harper's either, I added silently.
I should've known. With Genevie here, how could Harper feel safe? Our marriage was a transaction. Everyone knew it. And now my first love had come back pregnant. Any woman in Harper's position would've lost her mind.
It was me. Bottom line—it was me.
I'd given Harper the wrong signals. These past few days, I'd indulged her, spoiled her, and made her think she could get rid of whatever shedidn't like.
Looking at Genevie crying in front of me, guilt crashed over me like a wave.
"I'm sorry, Genevie." I lowered my head, trying to comfort her. "I didn't protect you. This... will never happen again."
Genevie looked up. Those beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears. She struggled to sit up, ignoring the IV in her arm, and threw herself into my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"Don't leave me, Kirill, don't abandon me!" Her body shook like a frightened bird. "You're all I have left. You're all I have..."
I stiffened for a moment, then slowly raised my hand and patted her back. Her body was soft, a faint trace of perfume clinging to her. But now, for some reason, I thought of how Harper smelled.
That woman had been the Pakhan's wife for two months and still hadn't learned to dress herself up. She always smelled like cleaning solution—not pleasant, really. But when I held her, I felt grounded.
Damn it. What was I thinking?
I forced my attention back to Genevie.
"It's okay. Julian can't find you here. You'll be safe."
Just then, my phone—tossed carelessly on the nightstand—started ringing.
Harper was calling me.
Staring at the flashing screen, my heart pounded. An inexplicable anxiety seized my throat.
Answer it or not?
Logic told me not to. She was in the basement because she deserved to be punished. She'd almost killed two people. If I answered now and heard her crying or begging, would I go soft? Would I turn into some spineless fool and let her out immediately?
That wouldn't be fair to Genevie.
But my hand moved anyway. My fingers almost touched the cold screen.
"Ah—!"
Genevie let out a sharp cry of pain, her body curling up suddenly.
My hand jerked back like I'd been shocked. I grabbed her shoulders. "What's wrong? Where does it hurt?"
"My stomach! My stomach hurts so bad!" Genevie's face went white. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She clutched her belly with one hand and grabbed my shirt with the other, nearly ripping the buttons off. "Kirill... am I going to lose the baby... please help me..."
Even though I knew the child wasn't mine, watching her in pain, I couldn't stay detached.
