The next day, Elena sat on her bed, curled up with her knees to her chest, her thoughts circling like restless birds.
The heavy door creaked, and she looked up quickly. Tatiana waltzed in without knocking, her bright energy spilling into the gloomy room.
"There you are," she said, plopping onto the bed beside her. "Why do you always look like you've just lost a war,?"
Despite herself, Elena smiled faintly. "Tia."
"Don't 'Tia' me. Brighten that pretty face. I came to gossip," Tatiana said with a grin, tucking her legs under herself.
Elena forced her expression to relax, "how was your date? Tell me everything. Don't hold back."
Tatiana laughed. "Oh, it was fine. Charming guy, sweet smile, good taste in wine. But enough about me. I heard something far juicier."
Elena blinked. "What?"
Leaning in, Tatiana lowered her voice dramatically. "I heard noises last night."
Elena's cheeks went crimson instantly. "W-what?!"
Tatiana gasped playfully, putting a hand to her chest. "Don't tell me… my annoying cousin is keeping you up all night. At this rate, you'll be having a baby soon!"
Elena nearly choked on her own breath. "Tia! Stop—don't say things like that!"
Tatiana fell back on the bed, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. "Your face! You're as red as a tomato. Oh, this is priceless. My poor, innocent Elena."
Elena grabbed a pillow and shoved it at her. "You're impossible."
Still giggling, Tatiana sat back up. "Impossible, but right."
Elena turned her face away, embarrassed. "You don't know anything…"
"Maybe not," Tatiana said, eyes twinkling, "but I know my cousin. And I know you. Something's happening between you two, whether you admit it or not."
Elena pressed her lips together, her mood shifting. If only you knew, Tia. If only you knew I'm not here by choice. That I'm his prisoner… his plaything.
Tatiana let herself be pulled back into girl talk, describing the man, his silly jokes, the way he complimented her hair.
Elena listened as they walked downstairs together, grateful for the distraction, even if the ache in her chest never faded.
the front doors opened with a thud. Viktor strolled in, his usual swagger in place. He spotted the girls on the landing.
"Hi, ladies," he said casually.
"Hi, Viktor," they replied in unison, Tatiana still laughing under her breath at Elena's red face.
Viktor gave them a small smirk before heading straight for Damian's study. He shut the door behind him with a soft click.
Inside, Damian was standing by the window, the morning light slicing across his sharp features. His hands were behind his back, his expression unreadable.
"Look, bro," Viktor started, leaning against the desk casually. "I know you're about to scold me. But let me explain."
Damian's eyes didn't move from the glass. "Why did you take Elena to the hospital?"
Viktor lifted his hands. "Not my fault. She opened up to me, and you know I have a soft heart. I couldn't just ignore her, Damian."
Damian finally turned, his gaze dark and piercing. "You know the rules. No one moves her without my permission."
Viktor smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Your house, your rules.
"Why were you even in my house? You knew I travelled to sort the shipment issue .
"This is the time I confess," Viktor said with mock drama, placing a hand on his chest. "I came to take your—"
He stopped deliberately, watching Damian's eyes narrow.
"Wait." A grin curved his mouth. "Did Damian Volkov actually come back from his business trib because of a woman?"
That did it. Damian's fist flew, connecting hard with Viktor's jaw. The crack echoed in the room.
"Holy shit!" Viktor staggered back, laughing as he rubbed his mouth. "That hurt!"
"You should learn to keep your mouth shut," Damian growled.
But Viktor only smirked, despite the blood on his lip. "Or what? You worried your playtoy might fall for me instead? Prince Charming sweeping her off her feet?"
Damian ignored the taunt, moving past him. He straightened his jacket and strode out of the study, his presence cold as steel.
Viktor followed him down the stairs, unfazed. "Come on, bro, don't take it so personally. I was joking."
At the foot of the stairs, Viktor stopped abruptly. His voice dropped, low and dangerous.
"I know you were the one who transferred her aunt."
Damian's 's smirk faltered, just for a second. "That's none of your business."
The dining hall smelled of fresh coffee and warm bread, the long polished table glittering beneath the morning sun.
Tatiana and Elena were already seated when Viktor strolled in, their heads close together, voices soft with laughter.
Elena's face lit up a little when Tatiana teased her about her blushing cheeks, and for a moment it felt almost like normal girlhood—giggles, secrets, and little smiles shared over cups of tea.
But that fragile warmth shattered when Elena felt a shift in the air.
She didn't have to look to know he had arrived. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her napkin. Slowly, unwillingly, her eyes lifted—and there he was.
Damian Volkov.
Tall, looking handsome, his black suit cut sharp as a blade. Elena's chest constricted. She quickly looked down, but not quickly enough.
He had already caught her glancing.
And he smirked barely, just a flicker at the corner of his mouth before taking his seat at the head of the table.
The butler moved swiftly, placing food before him. His dark gaze locked on Elena like a predator studying its prey, drinking in her lowered lashes, the soft curve of her lips as she tried to act normal.
Don't look at him. Don't give him anything. She told herself. So instead leaned into Tatiana's laughter, nodding when Viktor said something witty, forcing a shy smile.
It worked. She blended into the cheerful conversation, her nervousness slowly fading as she listened to Tatiana recount her date and Viktor's ridiculous commentary.
Damian said nothing. He only watched.
Every time Elena smiled, his jaw clenched. His plaything his Elena—smiling and laughing so easily for others, when with him, her smiles were always laced with tears.
Tatiana, busy buttering her toast, spoke without thinking, her tone casual.
"Hey, Damian," she chirped, glancing up at him with a teasing grin. "Did you know Isabel is back?"
The silence that followed was brutal.
Damian's hand froze. His fork slipped, clattering against the porcelain plate with a sharp, metallic clang. The sound sliced straight through the cheerful air, and Elena jumped slightly in her seat.
For a moment, Damian didn't move. His broad shoulders were tense, his eyes hard as stone, fixed on nothing. The atmosphere around him darkened, dangerous.
Then, slowly, he pushed back his chair. The sound of wood scraping against the marble floor rang heavy, final. He stood to his full height, his expression carved from ice, not sparing a single glance at anyone.
"Damian—" Tatiana began, but he walked away already.
Viktor leaned back in his chair with a low whistle. "Well, that went well," he muttered dryly, smirking as if entertained then,left the table.
Elena's fingers tightened around her fork, her face pale. She didn't know who Isabel was, but the way his entire world shifted at the mention of her name sent cold fear down her spine.