Viktor’s roar shattered the air, echoing off every wall and surface. He dashed to her, scooping her into his arms like she was the axis on which his entire world turned. I stood frozen for a moment, my fingers twitching with helpless rage, before I forced myself to follow.

At the hospital, the sterile whiteness, the constant hum of machines, and the biting cold seemed to strip everything down to its raw essence. He paced outside the operating room, still in his bloodstained suit, the untouchable, untamable Viktor Volkov reduced to a man clutching fear with all the strength in his fists.

Then the doors swung open abruptly. A doctor emerged, breathless. “Severe blood loss. She’s RH-negative. The blood bank doesn’t have her type.”

“I’m RH-negative,” I said, standing before him. “Use mine.”

He turned toward me, eyes wide as if I’d struck him.

“She needs it. Do it,” he said finally.

After all, I was leaving soon anyway…

A nurse guided me to the cot. The needle pierced my arm, blood siphoning slowly into the bag. I watched it drip, drop by drop, while Viktor remained outside, pacing in jagged lines.

“She’ll survive,” I whispered.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, tension sharp in his voice.

I looked away, voice low. “She misunderstood. I want to explain when she wakes.”

He stepped closer, studying me. “You really care about me that much, huh?”

Before I could answer, the doors opened again. The surgeon removed his gloves. “She’s stable. She’ll wake soon.”

Viktor exhaled, the tension sliding off him like water. I sank back against the wall, swallowed by silence once more.

---

When Evelyn awoke, I was at her side.

She opened her eyes, and tears sprang immediately. “So… you brought her too?” she said to Viktor, voice trembling. “You want me to pretend we’re all happy now, right?”

“No,” I said quickly. “You’ve misunderstood. He really had a meeting that day. The clothes, he just brought me along. Nothing else happened.”

Viktor added, flatly, “She’s nothing to me. Just a wife on paper. That’s it.”

Evelyn’s tearful eyes flicked between us. “Prove it, Benny!”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, frowning.

She turned to the window. Lightning ripped across the stormy sky, rain thrashing the courtyard, thunder rolling like cannon fire. “Make her kneel out there,” Evelyn whispered. “No coat, no umbrella. Let her stay until she passes out.”

Viktor blinked. “Evelyn, she—”

“She’s afraid of storms,” Evelyn said, voice quivering. “You told me her hands shake, her breathing stops. Show me I matter more.”

Silence stretched, heavy as iron. I prayed he would refuse, just once. But he didn’t. He stepped back and said softly, “Take her.”

The guards moved.

I didn’t resist. Why bother?

They shoved me into the storm. Cold rain lashed my skin, each drop like a sting. Thunder cracked too close, and my legs buckled. I collapsed to my knees, shivering, arms quivering, soaked to the bone. The guards locked the door behind me.

Alone.

Wind whipped my drenched hair across my face. Each boom of thunder tightened my chest. Another crack, and I bit down hard, tasting blood. Then everything went black.

---

I awoke three days later at the Volkov estate. Not the hospital—Evelyn had insisted I not be there, claiming I was faking it. But my body had truly shut down, surviving only through stillness and sleep for three long days.

“Benny,” Evelyn purred from the doorway, voice laced with amusement. “When are we interrogating that traitor from Marseille? I want front-row seats.”

Her eyes shifted to me. “Oh, Miss Thorn. You’re awake?” she said, smiling like a debutante. “I didn’t mean for him to actually send you into the storm. I was just angry. He took it literally.”

I didn’t answer.

She perched gracefully on Viktor’s lap. “I heard you donated blood to me. How romantic,” she cooed. “You bled for me. So, as a reward, you’ll join us tonight. Volkov’s sealing a deal with the Russians. Private dinner. No press. Just family.”

I opened my mouth to refuse, but she was faster. She grabbed my hand before I could form the first word.

“Don’t say no.”

Viktor said nothing, but his cold, charged stare drilled into me: Don’t make a scene.

I swallowed hard, then nodded.

---

Dinner took place on Volkov’s private yacht.

Three security checks. Twelve guards with semi-automatics. Surveillance cameras in every room.

Yet the interior screamed opulence—white leather chairs, crystal goblets, a chandelier likely worth more than my life. The ocean stretched around us, calm but treacherous, much like the people seated at the table.

Evelyn curled against Viktor as if she belonged, laughing too loudly, whispering, pretending to flinch at the mention of weapons deals. I sat near the edge, silent, invisible. Watching.

When Viktor stepped away to take a secure call, she leaned toward me.

“I don’t get you sometimes,” Evelyn murmured, the diamond around her neck catching the dim light.

I faced her slowly, calm, expression flat.

“They say you love him,” she said, sipping wine as if it were poison. “That you’d take a bullet for him. But I’ve never seen a woman in love act like you.”

Her voice darkened. “I framed you, made you crawl, made you beg. And when he obeyed me and left you in that storm, you didn’t scream. Didn’t flinch. And now I sit in his lap, licking honey from his fingers—and you still don’t move.”

Her smile widened. “So, Miss Thorn… do you truly love him, or are you just pathetic?”

I opened my mouth, debating a reply.

Then—

Boom.

A wave of thunder slammed against the yacht.

“Ah!” she screamed.

We were both thrown overboard.

The sea swallowed us instantly. A sharp sting ripped into my side. Blood mingled with seawater—my blood.

“Two overboard! We’ve got two in the water!”

“One of them’s bleeding! Sharks will smell it!”

“Where are they?”

“They fell on opposite sides; we can only reach one!”

Then Viktor’s scream pierced the chaos: “Save Evelyn!”

His words hit harder than the waves.

I sank. My blood trailed behind me.

And then… nothing.

I woke to the sterile, humming ceiling of a hospital room.

“You’re awake, finally,” a nurse said, relief softening her voice. “You’re in rough shape. We should contact your family.” She hesitated, then added with a sigh, “Miss Evelyn is next door. Barely a scratch, and yet Mr. Volkov hasn’t left her side. Fed her, fluffed her pillows… I thought you two were married. But where’s your family? No one’s shown up in the past two days.”

I gave a hollow smile, offering no words. My grandmother had been gone for two years.

The door exploded open.

Viktor stormed in, a human whirlwind. He didn’t speak at first. He marched forward, knocking the medicine tray from the bedside table. Glass shattered, pills scattered.

His gaze pierced me, sharp and unforgiving.

“You shoved Evelyn into the sea?”

I blinked.

“What?”

Before I could answer, he grabbed my wrist, his grip iron. Pain shot through my arm.

“She told me everything!” he barked. “Do you really think you can get away with this? Testing me? My patience?”

I tried to steady my breathing, the nurse frozen, too afraid to intervene.

“All of it fake? Just to get my attention?” he snapped.

I stayed silent. Didn’t beg. Didn’t plead.

He yanked his hand back, sneering. “Fine. No doctors. No nurses. Handle your mess yourself.”

And he left.

---

The next days were torture. No one checked in. No one changed bandages. I was utterly alone.

I dragged myself to the cabinet, fumbling for supplies. My leg throbbed from the shark bite; the gash across my side burned with every movement. My hands shook as I unscrewed medicine bottles. I fell twice. Hard.

But I rose.

Because I always did. He thought I’d break, thought I’d crumble. He didn’t know me. I had grown up tending to a dying grandmother in a collapsing house with no running water. I learned to care for wounds, tend fevers, and survive on scraps. Nobody had ever cared for me.

---

Six days later, I was ready to leave.

Bag packed, discharge papers signed, body still healing but mind razor-sharp. The door slammed open. Viktor barged in, grabbing my arm.

“Evelyn’s been taken.”

My heart didn’t twitch.

“By Nikolai,” he added, jaw tight.

Nikolai. His cousin. A psychopath. Mafia royalty, cruel, unstable, dangerous.

“What does that have to do with me?” I asked, quiet.

“They want you in exchange,” Viktor said sharply. “You go in. Evelyn comes back safe after four days.”

I stayed silent. Nikolai was the kind who smiled while others screamed. Broke things for sport. Enjoyed watching chaos.

“No,” I said flatly.

Viktor’s expression hardened, unyielding. “You don’t get a choice.” He stepped close, voice low, dangerously calm. “Nikolai’s obsessed with you. Do this cleanly—four days, no harm—and when it’s over…” His eyes locked mine. “…I’ll give you anything you want.”

I studied him for a long moment, then smiled.

“Fine. I want a grand wedding.”

He blinked. “What?”

“We never had a proper one,” I said evenly. “Just a marriage license and security details. I want a real wedding. Guests. Cameras. Vows. Everything.”

He went silent, weighing my words. Probably questioning my sanity. But this was all part of the plan. When Isadora returned, I needed a public stage, a spectacle—the perfect moment to cement her as Mrs. Volkov, publicly, permanently.

Finally, he nodded curtly. “Fine. You’ll get your damn wedding.”

At midnight, they dropped me at Nikolai’s estate. He lounged on a couch like a king, the room thick with spice and cigar smoke.

“Mrs. Volkov,” he drawled, grinning as if I were already his. “Long time no see.”

---

The first two days weren’t unbearable. They didn’t physically touch me in the ways I feared—but they drained my blood. Tube after tube. My arms blackened and blistered, veins aflame with fire.

I could endure the pain. But watching my blood leave me, watching it slowly vanish, gnawed at my soul.

By day three, I was drifting in and out of consciousness when I overheard the guards outside.

“Is he serious?” one whispered. “He says he’ll drain her dry… keep her like a glass doll?”

“Quiet! He said she’s too beautiful. Boss wants her preserved. Like a trophy. Forever.”

My stomach turned. So this was the ‘safe promise’ Viktor had given me? Selling me to a lunatic in a tailored suit?

That night, when the guards’ attention wavered, I seized the crystal ornament from the nightstand, smashing it against the window. The glass exploded. I cut through the ropes binding my wrists and limped to the edge. Without thinking, I jumped.

I felt the crack before the impact—my right ankle twisted violently. Pain exploded through me. Still, bleeding and trembling, I crawled away from that nightmare, all the way back to the Volkov estate.

The door opened to reveal Viktor, kneeling, carefully wrapping a bandage around Evelyn’s ankle.

“She’s been gone four days, Benny. Aren’t you worried?” Evelyn’s voice wobbled.

“I only worry about you,” he said softly, velvet in his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me your leg was hurt? Want me to feel guilty?”

I stood in the doorway, soaked, ankle swollen, and neither of them glanced at me. I drifted past like a ghost.

“Isadora?” Viktor finally spoke, eyes scanning me. “What the hell happened?”

I didn’t respond. Didn’t acknowledge him.

“When’s the wedding?” I asked instead.

Evelyn’s gaze flicked between us, confusion painting her face. “What wedding?”