Chapter 2

Vera: POV

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows. I turned away from the harsh light, my stomach already churning with the familiar nausea that had been plaguing me for weeks.

Viktor was already gone—probably out for his morning run or working in his study. He was always disciplined, demanding much of himself. A sharp knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts.

"Vera? Darling, are you awake?" Viktor's stepmother Marina's sweet voice floated in from outside.

I quickly sat up, pulling the sheets to cover my nakedness. "Just a moment, please."

Grabbing Viktor's robe that he had carelessly tossed on the floor the night before, I slipped it on and tied it securely around my waist.

"Come in," I called, feigning composure.

The door opened and Marina glided into the room, elegant in her designer silk blouse and perfectly tailored pants, the picture of a refined mother. At fifty, she was still beautiful, with expertly colored blonde hair and a face that benefited from Moscow's finest plastic surgeons.

"Good morning, dear," she smiled, the warmth in her voice never quite reaching her eyes. "I came to call you both for breakfast. Where is Viktor?"

"He's already up," I said. "Probably in his study."

Marina sighed dramatically. "That boy works too hard. Just like his father." She sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to pat my hand. "He's always been cold like that, after everything he went through."

I knew what she was referring to. Viktor rarely spoke of his past, but I had heard the old servants whisper about it: at the tender age of eight, Viktor had witnessed the heart-wrenching departure of his mother as she left with her lover, abandoning both him and his father. Tragically, she met her demise in an accident shortly thereafter, an event that seeded a deep-seated resentment towards women within him. The only exceptions to his mistrust were his compassionate stepmother, who lovingly cared for him, and his first love, whom he encountered during his university years.

But I had later heard from the old butler that before Viktor's mother's alleged affair, Viktor's father had already been quite close with Marina...

"Go get dressed, dear," Marina continued. "I'll send someone to call Viktor. The chef has prepared a wonderful breakfast."

I nodded, trying to ignore the fresh wave of nausea rising in my throat.

The moment she left, I rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before emptying what little remained of last night's dinner. I was still bent over, rinsing my mouth, when the bathroom door flew open.

I turned to find Marina standing there, eyes wide, as if she had discovered my secret.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, her voice loud enough to carry down the hallway. "Vera, are you pregnant? That's wonderful!" Her voice was shrill with exaggerated excitement, hands clasped together in a theatrical display of delight.

My blood ran cold. Before I could respond, a shadow darkened the doorway.

Viktor stood there, his face expressionless except for the dangerous glint in his eyes. "What did you say?"

Marina turned to her stepson with excessive enthusiasm. "Viktor, darling! I think Vera might be pregnant! Isn't that wonderful news?"

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, desperately trying to read Viktor's expression. His ice-blue eyes met mine, demanding the truth. I caught the intimidation in his gaze, that silent warning of fear that made my heart race. I could clearly sense he didn't want this child.

"No," I said firmly, looking directly at him to protect my unborn child. "I'm not pregnant. I've just been feeling unwell lately."

Viktor's gaze didn't waver. "Is that so?"

I nodded, maintaining eye contact despite my trembling knees.

Marina looked between us, her smile faltering slightly. "Well, that's a shame. If Vera were pregnant, the birth of a child would certainly bring much joy to this house." She nudged Viktor's arm. "Considering how busy you are with the company, it would be fine if you had children a few years from now."

Viktor finally shifted his gaze from me to his stepmother, showing a softness I rarely saw him display to others.

"Let's eat, Mom," he said, gently guiding her by the elbow. "Vera will join us when she's ready."

I watched them leave, my hand unconsciously moving to my still-flat stomach.

Twenty minutes later, I entered the dining room where Viktor sat at the head of the massive oak table, scanning reports while occasionally taking a bite of his breakfast. Marina sat to his right, sipping tea and discussing some social event.

"Ah, here she is," Marina smiled as I took my seat across from her. "Feeling better, dear?"

"Much better, thank you," I lied, turning away from the plate of eggs the maid immediately placed before me. Just the smell was enough to make my stomach turn.

Viktor didn't look up from his documents. "Eat, Vera."

I forced myself to take a small bite, chewing mechanically.

Viktor slowly put down his papers, his jaw tense.

"I don't want children," he said flatly to me. "You should know my temperament. Don't try to be clever with me. Know your place; don't harbor any foolish fantasies."

Marina sighed, reaching out to pat his hand. "I understand you, but a man of your position needs an heir. I have been eagerly anticipating the day when I can assume the role of a grandmot. You and Vera are both in good health; there's no reason not to have a beautiful baby. It would bring some life to this gloomy house."

Viktor's expression hardened as he turned to me, "Children are nothing but a distraction and a weakness," he said, his voice cold and cutting. "I won't discuss this further. Vera, remember what I said."

Then Viktor patiently said to Marina, "Mom, I appreciate your concern, but I've made my decision. Please don't bring up this subject again."

Marina replied with a gentle smile. "I won't mention it again."

I watched their interaction, feeling utterly alone in this hostile environment. While they spoke, the heavy dining room doors swung open.

"Good morning, my dear family," Evgeny drawled as he strutted in.

He casually pulled out a chair and sat down, the entire motion carrying the arrogance of someone who had never really worked for anything. He reached for a piece of bread, took a bite, then carelessly tossed it back onto the plate.

"I'm starving," he announced, snapping his fingers at the maid. "Bring me some champagne, darling. Champagne with breakfast, that's living."

His gray eyes landed on me, roaming shamelessly over my body, making my skin crawl. "Oh, our little Vera isn't looking too well today?" he drawled. "Did my dear stepbrother wear you out last night?" He paused deliberately, his lips curling into a suggestive smile.