Chapter 3 - A Husband Who Wouldn't Touch Her
Mara entered Elara's room and locked the door.
For fifteen years, Elara had believed her mother died after collapsing at home.
That wasn't what happened.
Mara had been sixteen.
She had seen Catherine leave the Fagan mansion that evening carrying a leather folder.
Patrick followed twenty minutes later.
Catherine never returned.
"What was in the folder?" Elara asked.
"I don't know."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was a kid."
"You're not anymore."
Mara flinched.
Elara immediately regretted the sharpness.
Mara looked toward the floor.
"Your father paid my mother's debts. He paid for my college. Every time I thought about telling you, I remembered what would happen to my family."
Elara understood fear.
She hated that she understood it so well.
"What does the key open?"
"A room in your father's private office."
Vadim appeared outside moments later.
Mara panicked.
Elara didn't.
"Let him in."
Vadim listened without interruption.
When Mara finished, he asked practical questions.
Times.
Names.
Vehicles.
Whether Catherine had seemed frightened.
Then he looked at Elara.
"You aren't going back there tonight."
She folded her arms.
"Was that an order?"
Something almost resembling amusement touched his eyes.
"A recommendation."
"Good."
"Would an order work?"
"No."
"I suspected not."
Mara looked between them as though she'd expected something entirely different from the feared Vadim Sokolov.
So had Elara.
The next morning, Vadim's attorney discovered that Patrick had filed documents questioning Elara's competence six months earlier.
Six months.
Long before the marriage proposal.
He had collected statements from employees.
A physician.
Even relatives.
Elara read every page.
"Emotionally dependent."
"Socially withdrawn."
"Poor self-image."
"Limited romantic history."
Real facts twisted into evidence of incapacity.
She dropped the papers.
"He made me afraid of people and then used my fear to prove something was wrong with me."
Vadim stood across the library.
"Yes."
She appreciated that he didn't soften it.
"Why did you agree to marry me?"
Vadim's silence stretched.
"Business."
"That's not an answer."
"It was originally."
He walked toward the windows.
"Your father offered access to several logistics companies. I needed them."
"So I was part of the price."
"Yes."
The honesty hurt.
Vadim turned back.
"I won't insult you by rewriting yesterday because today is different."
Elara nodded.
"What changed?"
"You."
She looked at him.
"I expected Patrick Fagan's daughter."
"And?"
"I met Elara."
Her cheeks warmed.
Vadim noticed and politely looked away.
That somehow made it worse.
Over the next several days, they developed an unusual routine.
Breakfast together.
Legal meetings.
Long evenings examining Catherine's documents.
Vadim never entered Elara's bedroom without knocking.
Never touched her casually.
Never demanded affection.
And the safer she felt, the more aware she became of him.
That was inconvenient.
One evening they sat across from each other over dinner.
"Can I ask you something embarrassing?"
Vadim lowered his glass.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you kiss me?"
"Because you were frightened."
"What if I hadn't been?"
His eyes held hers.
"Then I would have asked."
Elara looked at her plate.
"What if you asked now?"
Silence.
Her heart hammered.
Vadim didn't move.
"Elara."
She forced herself to look up.
"You don't owe me intimacy because I defended you."
"I know."
"You don't owe me because we're married."
"I know."
"And you shouldn't do something simply to prove your father wrong."
"I know."
Vadim studied her.
"Then why?"
She smiled nervously.
"Because I'm curious."
For the first time, the Bratva king looked genuinely unsettled.
Elara almost laughed.
He stood.
Walked around the table.
Stopped several feet away.
"Come here."
She did.
He didn't touch her.
"Still curious?"
"Yes."
"May I kiss you?"
Her breath caught.
Then the security alarm sounded.
Vadim's entire demeanor changed.
He turned toward the door.
One of his men entered.
"Someone breached the west gate."
"Who?"
The guard handed him a phone.
A security image filled the screen.
Elara recognized the vehicle.
Her father's.
But Patrick wasn't driving.
Sofia was.
And in the passenger seat sat the doctor who had signed the documents declaring Elara unstable.
Sofia stumbled through the front entrance minutes later.
Blood stained one sleeve.
She grabbed Elara.
"Your father knows Mara talked."
Elara went cold.
"Where is Mara?"
Sofia started crying.
"That's why I came."
Vadim stepped closer.
"Where is she?"
Sofia looked toward him.
"Patrick took her."
Then the doctor behind Sofia spoke.
"No."
Everyone turned.
The physician's face was gray.
"Patrick didn't take Mara."
He swallowed.
"The person who helped him all these years did."
Vadim's eyes narrowed.
"Who?"
The doctor opened his mouth.
Before he could answer, the lights went out.
A phone vibrated on the table.
Elara picked it up.
One message glowed on the screen.
COME BACK TO THE FAGAN HOUSE ALONE IF YOU WANT MARA ALIVE.
Below it was a photograph.
May you like
Mara was sitting inside Elara's mother's old bedroom.
And someone was standing behind her.
