"Vivienne, you're being stubborn." My voice sank as I tried to suppress the agitation rising inside me.
"So what?" She interrupted, tears finally spilling. "You bugged my phone, you have Sasha report everything, you even know I threw up today! Nikolai, don't you understand how terrifying that is? Nikolai, you disgust me."
That sentence was like a poisoned blade, driving straight into my most vulnerable nerve.
"I told you, it's to fucking protect you!" I raised my voice, chest heaving violently. "Those rabid dogs are hunting you out there! If I don't know where you are, you'd already be a corpse!"
"Then let me die!" She shot up, like a small animal backed into a corner, screaming hysterically. "I'd rather die in the street than be your prisoner in this goddamn gilded cage! Being monitored, being controlled, needing your approval for who I see and what I say! Nikolai, this isn't protection—you're sick and you're controlling me! Takeyour food and stop using this condescending charity to manipulate me!"
She violently swept her arm across the table, knocking the tray to the floor.
The fine porcelain plate shattered against the thick Persian rug with a dull crack. The pasta I'd made—still steaming—splattered everywhere.
The air froze solid.
I stared at the mess on the floor, fists clenched so tight at my sides my nails nearly broke skin.
I watched her thin shoulders shake violently with anger and fear. I had a thousand ways to force her submission, but all I felt was a deep, damning sense of powerlessness spreading from my bones.
I didn't understand. I really didn't. I'd given her the safest fortress in Washington. I'd cooked for her myself. I'd turned on the old guard for her, gone to war with Marchetti for her.
I'd tied my life to hers.
But all she felt was suffocated.
"Fine."
I slowly lifted my head, every emotion in my eyes crushed down in an instant, becoming the cold, ruthless Pakhan again.
"If you want to starve yourself, be my guest. But as long as I'm breathing, you're not leaving this estate."
I threw out those words coldly, turned, stepped over the broken porcelain, and strode out without looking back.
The door slammed shut. Two worlds separated.
I walked down the stairs with heavy steps, fury and exhaustion in my chest like two snakes tearing at each other.
Sophia stood in the shadows at the first-floor landing. The old housekeeper who'd served the Volkov family for thirty years—who'd practically raised me—had clearly heard the carnage upstairs.
"Have the staff clean up the carpet." I loosened my tie, irritably pinching the bridge of my nose. "Don't let her step on broken glass. If she still won't eat, have the kitchen prepare some broth andkeep it warm."
"Already arranged, sir." Sophia's voice was calm and gentle, carrying the wisdom of years. She didn't leave immediately. Instead, she stepped forward, blocking my path to the study.
"Right now, you look exactly like your father did when he drove your mother away."
That sentence hit my absolute trigger point with surgical precision. I stopped dead, eyes instantly freezing over. "Sophia, watch yourself."
Sophia didn't back down. She clasped her hands over her apron, her lined eyes filled with penetrating compassion. "I watched you grow up, Nikolai. I know you care about that girl. You're willing to go to war with Marchetti early just to protect her. But you're using the wrong methods."
"I'm not wrong." I bit out the words, my voice rough as sandpaper. "I gave her absolute safety! I assigned my best men, I put a tracker on her to make sure no one could hurt a hair on her head! And what does she do? She treats it like I'm some pervert stalker, throws food on the floor to protest!"
"Because she's not from our world, sir." Sophia sighed softly. "You're a Pakhan. You're used to building impenetrable fortresses to keep out enemies. But to an ordinary girl who craves freedom in her bones, a fortress locked from the outside is no different from a suffocating tomb."
I froze, my jaw clenched tight.
"Ms. Cole is a writer. You clipped her wings and shoved her into a bulletproof glass tank, then wonder why she won't sing for you anymore?" Sophia shook her head, her tone cutting straight through. "Sir, you think you're protecting her from enemies, but actually... right now, the person backing her into a corner and terrifying her most—is you."
"Terrified..." I repeated the word, my mind suddenly flashing to moments ago in that room—Vivienne's thin shoulders trembling like a dying animal, those eyes full of despair and resistance.
