Page 91 of The Russian's Bought Bride

Nikolai glances toward me briefly while resting one hand against the steering wheel. “You look tired.”

“I am.”

“You want to go home and rest?”

Home.

The word still does strange things to me, since one way or another, his place became exactly that. Rather than a temporary shelter or a prison I once viewed it as, it’s something we share now, and it really does feel like home.

“I think I want food first,” I admit, noting the subtle hunger pains kicking around.

“Done.”

I smile faintly and lean my head back against the seat, taking in the warm breeze surrounding us.

There’s another pause before he speaks again, quieter this time. “You seem to be doing a lot better.”

The observation settles gently over me, and I look out the window briefly before answering honestly.

“I am,” I admit, even while it feels strange to admit out loud. “Therapy’s working, and everything else doesn’t feel as heavy anymore...I think I want to start that foundation you mentioned.”

Nikolai’s brows go up subtly, like he wasn’t expecting me to follow through with it, but he hums. “You don’t think it’ll be too much?”

Despite the thought crossing my mind, I shake my head. “No, it might be good for me to have something to focus on. Even if I don’t know what I’m doing.”

His lips pull warmly. “Then we’ll look into it. I’ll get things moving, and you can decide what you’d like to do with it.”

I nod, returning a small smile of my own. Even if the thought of being in charge of something significant and public makes me feel nervous, I already know the positives would far outweigh the discomfort.

For so long, surviving was all I could manage. Every day felt like something to endure rather than experience, but lately, there are moments where I genuinely feel present again. Moments where I laugh without forcing it, and where I can think about the future without immediately feeling afraid of what it might look like.

A lot of that is because of him, which is complicated in itself.

Nikolai came into my life through violence and lies, all tangled together with fear that held me down. Nothing about ourbeginning was healthy or normal, but even so, somewhere inside all the chaos, he became the person who held me together when everything else felt like it was crumbling. When it seemed like I didn’t have anyone, I had him.

The world knows pieces of the truth now, too, and in a way, it took more of the weight off my shoulders.

The story about the fraudulent medical trials broke nearly a week after the Lukovs quietly pulled enough strings to make sure the evidence reached the right people. News stations covered the scandal for days, investigations reopened, and families of victims finally started getting answers. Dozens of names surfaced, and many more lives than I could conceive of were destroyed.

The scope of it all made me physically sick when I first saw it, but it also made me realize my father wasn’t alone. None of us were. Regardless of the pain caused, there was solidarity in it, and that helped more than I expected it to.

And now those men are dead.

Grigori Malenkov can never hurt anyone again, and neither can Volodin, even if he second-guessed his involvement in the end. They both caused unimaginable harm, and now, the city is slightly safer than it had been.

The relief that comes with that knowledge is dark, yet earned, somehow.

Justice won’t bring my father back, but at least the nightmare ends with them, and fewer people have to know what it feels like to lose someone in the same way.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” Nikolai says quietly.

I blink and realize he’s watching me carefully from the driver’s seat before focusing on the road again. A sheepish feeling settles in me. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he hums, pulling his hand from the steering wheel to settle it over mine, where it rests against my thigh. His touch is warm and steady as always. “I know this isn’t easy; just make sure you aren’t thinking yourself into circles. Give yourself a break every once in a while.”

Emotion presses unexpectedly at the back of my throat as I sense his sincerity, well aware of his subtle concern and the ways he gently checks in with me.

“I just…” I trail off, swallowing carefully to collect myself. “I think for the first time in a long time, I can actually see myself being happy again.”