Page 5 of The Russian's Bought Bride

Sinking back into the chair, I exhale and remind myself to be patient.

I don’t want to be the person who hovers and demands answers every five minutes. I don’t want to annoy the people who are trying to save him.

So I wait, and wait, until finally, the doors open.

My head snaps up so fast my neck protests, but I don’t care. I’m already on my feet before I fully register who’s walking toward me.

I recognize the man in a white coat instantly, since he was the one who spoke to us during the consultations.

Dr. Denis Volodin is the head doctor who oversees and manages every operation that happens in this place. Relief floods through me so quickly it almost makes me dizzy.

He’s here, which means it’s done.

But then I see his face, and everything inside me drops.

The tightness around the mouth and the heaviness in his eyes send all the wrong messages, and that grave look is enough to unravel me all over again.

My heart starts pounding, sounding erratic in my ears now.

“Doctor?” I ask, my voice coming out thinner than I expect. “How is he? Is he okay?”

Dr. Volodin slows as he approaches, and for a split second, I think he’s going to smile and reassure me. To tell me everything is fine, but he doesn’t.

“Miss Young,” he says instead, his tone measured and careful. “We encountered…complications during the procedure.”

The words hit like a slap to the face, and it takes everything in me not to collapse.

“What kind of complications?” I ask quickly, stepping closer as my hands curl into fists at my sides. “You said this was controlled. You said—”

“I understand,” he cuts in gently, holding up a hand. “It was proceeding as expected initially. However, the operating surgeons said the synthetic organ did not integrate as anticipated. Unfortunately, that is always a risk.”

I stare at him, my mind struggling to keep up. “Integrate…?”

“The body is rejecting it, as it seems the synthetic organ isn’t a suitable match for him,” he says, and there’s something almost rehearsed in the way he delivers the line, like this isn’t the first time he has broken this kind of news. “He has been stabilized for now, but his body’s response to the operation was…severe. Without a suitable replacement, his other organs will begin to shut down as well.”

My stomach drops through the floor, and I feel the color draining from my face.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. They told us the success rate was high, that regardless of the risks, most made it just fine.

“Without immediate intervention…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, and he doesn’t have to.

The world tilts slightly, and I grip the back of the chair beside me to steady myself.

No…this isn’t how this was supposed to go.

This was supposed to fix everything. It was supposed to save him.

“There has to be something you can do,” I say in a rush, my voice gaining urgency now. “You can’t just—there has to be another option.”

“There is one possibility,” he says slowly, eyes steady as they hold mine.

Hope sparks, fragile but immediate, and I cling to it so hard before it can be swept away.

“What is it?”

“A transplant,” Dr. Volodin replies, tone still serious. “A traditional one. We had hoped to avoid it given the circumstances, but at this point, the options are limited.”