Chapter 2 Marlena
"I'm calling the police." I said.
My hand moved toward my phone but Nikolai didn't flinch. He simply pulled out his own phone and turned the screen toward me.
The video was live.
Luka lay in his hospital bed, pale and thin, with an IV drip in his arm. He was reading a book, completely unaware that the orderly adjusting equipment in the corner was watching him.
My blood ran cold.
"That's Marcus," Nikolai said calmly. "Former Special Forces. He's been on your brother's floor for three days now. Would you like to know what time the nurse brings Luka's medication? Two-seventeen AM. Dr. Calsworth makes rounds at nine. The security guard takes his break at midnight."
"You bastard." The words came out as a whisper.
"I'm practical." He put the phone back in his pocket. "Your brother is vulnerable, Marlena. Accidents happen in hospitals all the time,”
I wanted to hit him. To scream. But I stood frozen because he held all the power and we both knew it.
Nikolai reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick document. He set it on my coffee table carefully.
"Here's what's going to happen," he said. "You will marry me. For one year, you will play the role of my devoted wife at every social function, every charity gala, every business dinner. You will smile for cameras. You will wear what I tell you to wear. You will be perfect."
"You're insane."
"I'm offering you ten million dollars." His voice didn't change. "The full amount wired to the Swiss facility within twenty-four hours of our marriage. Additionally, every forgery charge against you disappears. I have friends in several governments. Your record will be clean."
I stared at him. "Why would you –"
"My reasons are my own." He gestured to the contract. "You have forty-eight hours to decide. After that, the offer expires and I make one phone call. The French authorities have been very interested in finding Marie Blanchard."
He moved toward the door but stopped and looked back at me. "Oh, and Marlena? Don't try to run. I have people watching every airport, train station, and bus terminal within five hundred miles. You won't make it out of New York."
Then he was gone and I was alone with the contract and the sound of my own racing heartbeat.
I waited ten minutes to make sure he was really gone before I opened my laptop.
Nikolai Volkov. The name brought up thousands of results.
There were forbes articles about his real estate empire.
Photos from charity galas where he stood beside politicians and celebrities.
There was even a TechCrunch piece about his venture capital firm that had backed three unicorn startups.
On the surface, he was exactly what he appeared to be: a self-made billionaire, thirty-two years old, ruthlessly successful.
But I dug deeper.
I found the lawsuits that had been filed against him and then mysteriously withdrawn; competitors who sold their companies to him for far less than market value. A journalist who'd been investigating Volkov Industries and then suddenly retired and moved to Montana.
And then I found the photo.
It was from a gala at the Met Gala six months ago.
Nikolai stood on the steps in a tuxedo, and beside him was a woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.
She had amazing blonde hair and wore an elegant dress.
She was the kind of beauty that came from generations of good genetics and better skincare.
The caption read: Nikolai Volkov and longtime companion Vivienne Kensington at the annual Met Gala.
Longtime companion.
So why did he need a fake wife?
I slammed the laptop shut. None of this made sense but it didn't matter. I had to see Luka.
The hospital smell hit me the moment I stepped off the elevator.
Damn, how much I hated it.
I signed in at the nurses' station, hyper-aware of every person in scrubs, every orderly pushing a cart. Were they Nikolai's people?
Was I being watched right now?
Luka's room was at the end of the hall. I pushed open the door and found him asleep, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
He looked worse than he had just three days ago.
I sat in the chair beside his bed and took his hand. It felt like paper in mine.
"Hey, Mar." His eyes fluttered open. "Didn't know you were coming today."
"Wanted to see you." I forced a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit." He tried to grin but it came out as more of a grimace. "But the nurses are nice. There's this one orderly, Marcus, who keeps checking on me. Said he had a brother who –"
"Marcus?" My grip on his hand tightened.
"Yeah. Big guy, kind of intense, but he's – Mar, you okay? You look pale." He said.
"I'm fine." I wasn't fine. Nothing was fine.
"Listen, I have good news. I found a donor. Someone who wants to help with the Swiss treatment."
Luka's eyes widened. "What? Who?"
"Someone anonymous. They saw your case and wanted to help."
"Marlena." His voice turned serious despite his weakness. "What did you do?"
Before I could answer, Dr. Calsworth knocked and entered. She looked tired and sad, which was never a good combination.
"Miss Rousseau, could I speak with you outside?"
In the hallway, she didn't waste time on pleasantries.
"Luka's latest scans show the cancer is progressing faster than we anticipated. If he doesn't get to Switzerland for that treatment in the next six weeks, he won't make it to Christmas."
Six weeks.
The words echoed in my head as I walked back into Luka's room. He'd fallen back asleep, his face peaceful unlike how it was when he was awake.
I kissed his forehead. "I'm going to save you," I whispered. "No matter what it costs."
Back in my apartment, I pulled out the burner phone I kept for emergencies. Dominic answered on the third ring.
"Marlena? Thank God, I've been worried –"
"Volkov found me."
There was silence for a while. Then: "Get out. Right now. Don't pack, don't – "
"He made me an offer."
"No." Dominic's voice cracked. "Whatever he's offering, the price is your life. Do you understand me? Nikolai Volkov is not a man who makes deals. He makes traps."
"Tell me what you know about him."
"His father was murdered in prison fifteen years ago. His mother died six months later, suicide they said, but who knows? Nikolai was fifteen and left with nothing. He built his empire from scratch and he destroyed anyone who got in his way. Men like him don't forget. They don't forgive. They –"
The line went dead.
"Dominic? Dominic!" I called.
I got nothing but silence.
I tried calling back three times but the number wouldn't connect.
My hands were shaking as I set the phone down. That wasn't a dropped call. Someone had cut the line.
A key turned in my door.
It had only been twenty-four hours, not forty-eight.
Nikolai walked in like he owned the place.
Behind him came two men in expensive suits carrying briefcases, and a woman with a notary stamp.
"You were going to say yes," he ordered.
"How did you –"
"I've had your apartment under surveillance since I left. I heard your conversation with Dominic. I know you went to the hospital. I know what the doctor told you." He moved closer. "I know you've already decided."
The lawyers spread the contract across my coffee table. Forty-seven pages of small print and clauses and legal language.
I flipped to the last page.
And there it was.
"The marriage will be consummated on the wedding night to ensure legal validity," I read aloud, my voice shaking. "You expect me to –"
"I expect you to fulfill every term of this contract," Nikolai interrupted, his voice cold and flat. "Including that one. Sign, Marlena. Or watch your brother die knowing you could have saved him."
He held out a pen.
Behind him, the lawyers waited with blank expressions. Outside my window, I could see a black SUV with more of his men inside and around it.
I took th
e pen.
The ink was smooth as it touched paper and I appended my signature .
Nikolai leaned close and whispered in my ear: "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Volkov.” more.