Chapter 5

Vera: POV

Marina whirled around, nearly dropping her phone. Her usually composed face flashed with shock before settling back into that practiced smile I'd seen countless times.

"Vera!" She forced a cheerful tone. "Darling, you startled me."

I stood in the doorway, catching only fragments of her conversation. Something about "find someone" and "take care of it."

"What kind of plan are you talking about?" I asked.

Marina waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing important. Just a thriller movie Evgeny and I were talking about."

Her explanation seemed reasonable, but I still felt something off; something in her eyes made my skin crawl.

"I was thinking of going for a walk," I said. "Would you like to join me?"

"I need to finish organizing some things. You go ahead."

I nodded and backed away. There was an unsettling, almost ominous quality to Marina's discourse, causing a sense of unease to creep in.

The evening air hit my face as I stepped outside. Eight-thirty, and Viktor still wasn't home. ‘He might be still with Natalia, probably.’

After three years of marriage, I should have been used to his indifference, but each new rejection reopened the wound.

The streets were unnaturally quiet as I walked, with an eerie stillness that made each of my footsteps sound thunderous. The usual evening traffic had vanished, leaving behind empty sidewalks and shadowy storefronts with their lights dimmed. Not a single car drove by. No pedestrians passed by. Even the birds had gone silent, as if the entire neighborhood was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen. A police station stood at the corner, its blue lights a steady beacon in the gathering darkness, the only sign of life in this ghostly urban landscape.

I walked faster, my thoughts a jumble: Viktor's cruel words from this morning， pregnancy test hidden in my bathroom drawer, Marina's strange phone call, Natalia's return.

What if Viktor finds out about the baby? He'd made it brutally clear this morning that he didn't want children.

Lost in these thoughts, I barely noticed as I turned down a narrow alley. The sound of footsteps made me turn. A man stumbled toward me, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

"Well, well," he slurred. "If it isn't Mrs. Korsolov herself."

I stepped back. "I don't know who you are, but I suggest you leave me alone."

He laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the brick walls. "Not just yet, sweetheart."

"What do you want?"

"Just doing a job." He raised the bottle, gripping it by the neck. "Nothing personal."

"Someone sent you? Who?"

"Does it matter? Boss said the Korsolov wife and her brat need to go. You're just unlucky."

He actually knew about my pregnancy. Someone had sent him specifically to harm not just me, but my unborn child too.

"This is a crime," I said. "You should know that there's a police station right around the corner."

He sneered. "By the time they find you, I'll be long gone.Besides, there’s no surveillance camera "

"Who's your boss?" I demanded, still backing away. "Who sent you?"

"Lady, I don't ask names. Just doing what I'm paid for."

I turned and ran. My heels clacked against the pavement. The alley narrowed. I was trapped. I had to face my attacker.

He raised the bottle, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"Police! Stop right there!" A uniformed officer stood at the mouth of the alley, hand on his holster. "Put down the bottle. Now."

The man cursed, dropped the bottle, and bolted past the officer.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" The officer approached me.

I nodded, breathless. "Thank you. How did you—"

"I was on duty at the station. I saw him acting suspicious and followed."

The officer studied my face. "You're Mrs. Korsolov, aren't you? Viktor Korsolov's wife?"

I stiffened. "Yes."

"Would you like me to escort you home? Or to the station to file a report?"

I hesitated. Someone wanted me dead—wanted my baby dead. Marina's strange phone call suddenly seemed more sinister.

"Officer," I said, "I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"Call this number." I recited Marina's cell. "Tell her I've been hurt. That I'm in the alley behind Tverskaya Street."

He frowned but took out his phone. When he hung up, I thanked him.

"She's on her way," he said. "Now will you tell me what this is about?"

I shook my head. "It's better if you don't know."

Before he could respond, I turned and hurried away. Marina would be rushing to the alley. I had maybe fifteen minutes.

I wasn't safe in the Korsolov household anymore. Too many strange things were happening at once. Viktor's cruelty was escalating. Marina was acting suspicious. And now someone wanted me and my baby dead; the mastermind behind this might be Victor or Marina.

I slipped into the house through the back entrance. In my bedroom, I grabbed my passport, ID, and cash. I stuffed a few essential items into a small suitcase.

As I zipped the case shut, I caught sight of my wedding photo. Viktor's cold eyes stared back at me, his arm around my waist more possessive than affectionate. I'd spent three years hoping those eyes would warm.

What a fool I've been.

I left the photo where it stood and wheeled my suitcase toward the door. The taxi I called took me straight to Sheremetyevo International Airport.

Marina arrived at the alley, breathless and annoyed. The young officer stood alone.

"Where is she?" Marina demanded. "Where's Vera?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. "She was here just a moment ago."

Marina's eyes narrowed. She pulled out her phone and dialed Viktor, but got no answer. That idiot is still with Natalia, she fumed.

With a curse, she hurried back to her car and drove home. The house was eerily quiet when she arrived.

"Vera?" she called, her voice echoing through the empty halls.

She rushed to Vera's bedroom and flung open the door. The closet door stood ajar, several hangers empty. The drawer where Vera kept her passport was open and empty.

"Damn it!"

She grabbed her phone again and this time, Viktor answered.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"Vera's gone," Marina said, her voice tight with barely controlled panic. "She's left."

Vicktor asked in disbelief, his hands trembling,“Are you serious? She wouldn't... she couldn't just..."