Chapter 49 Marlena
I sat up in my hospital bed with a small notebook balanced on my lap, the kind the nurses used to track medications and vitals. One of them had left it behind during her rounds and I'd taken it, needing something to write on.
My hand shook slightly as I uncapped the pen, but I forced it steady. Control. I needed control over something, anything, in this mess my life had become.
I started writing a list in careful letters, each word deliberate and clear.
New passports. For me, Elena, and Luka. Clean identities that couldn't be traced back to Nikolai or Viktor or any of the nightmare we'd just survived. Names that meant nothing, that carried no history or blood or pain.
Money for a quiet house. Somewhere far from New York and Monaco and all the places that held memories I wanted to forget. Maybe the countryside in France, or a small town in Italy where nobody asked questions and the pace of life was slow enough to heal.
Good doctors for Elena. She'd need ongoing care, therapy both physical and psychological, medications to counteract the years of drugs Viktor had pumped into her system. The best specialists money could buy, people who understood trauma and recovery.
No contact from Nikolai ever again. I underlined this one twice, pressing hard enough that the pen nearly tore through the paper. Complete separation. No phone calls, no letters, no checking in or showing up unexpectedly. He'd given me enough false hope to last a lifetime.
Writing the list made me feel a tiny bit strong inside, like I was taking back pieces of myself that had been stolen. Each item was a step toward a future that belonged to me, not to contracts or revenge or men who used people as weapons.
I studied the list for a long moment, then added one more item at the bottom.
Therapy. For me. I couldn't pretend I was fine, that I could just walk away from all of this without scars. The miscarriage, the violence, the betrayal, my mother's captivity. All of it needed to be processed with someone who knew how to help people put themselves back together.
When I was satisfied with the list, I reached for the hospital phone on the bedside table. My hands were steadier now, more certain. I dialed a number I'd memorized from a card tucked in my notebook, a lawyer Katya had recommended before she'd disappeared again into whatever shadows she lived in.
The phone rang three times before a crisp voice answered. "Weber and Associates."
"I need to speak with Claudia Weber," I said. "It's urgent."
"May I ask who's calling?"
"Marie Laurent." The fake name still came automatically. "She's expecting my call."
A pause, then elevator music. I waited, my heart beating faster despite my attempts to stay calm.
"This is Claudia." The voice was warm but professional, exactly what I needed. "Marie, I've been waiting to hear from you. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot," I said, echoing what I'd told the nurse earlier. "But I'll survive."
"Good. That's good." Papers rustled on her end. "You mentioned wanting to discuss divorce proceedings. Is that still your intention?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "As soon as possible."
"Given the circumstances Katya outlined to me, we can expedite the process significantly. A marriage built on coercion and fraudulent pretenses can be annulled rather than divorced, which is faster and cleaner. We're looking at weeks rather than months."
Weeks. I could survive weeks.
"What do you need from me?" I asked.
"Documentation of the coercion. The contract you signed, any evidence of blackmail or threats. Witness testimony if available. The more we have, the stronger the case."
I thought about the files in Nikolai's war room, the evidence I'd photographed with my phone before everything went to hell. "I have evidence. Photos of documents, the contract itself. Is that enough?"
"More than enough. Send everything to my secure email and I'll begin filing immediately." She paused. "There's also the matter of financial settlement. You're entitled to significant compensation given the circumstances."
"I don't want his money." The words came out sharp.
"Marie, you need to think practically. You have medical bills, your mother's care, starting a new life. This isn't about him. This is about securing your future."
She was right, but taking Nikolai's money felt like staying tied to him somehow. Still, I had Elena and Luka to think about. My pride couldn't come before their wellbeing.
"Enough to cover medical expenses and relocation," I said finally. "Nothing more."
"I'll include that in the filing. Is there anything else?"
"No contact. Ever. I want it legally binding. He doesn't get to call or write or show up. If he tries, there are consequences."
"I'll include a restraining order with the annulment. Standard procedure in cases like this." More paper rustling. "You should know, Marie, most men in his position would fight this. Make it difficult. The fact that he's not suggests –"
"I don't care what it suggests," I cut her off. "I just want it done."
"Understood. I'll be in touch within forty-eight hours with the initial paperwork."
We hung up and I set the phone back in its cradle, feeling simultaneously lighter and heavier. The process had started. There was no going back now.
The small light of hope flickered in my dark heart, fragile but real.
That night, the dreams came.
I was holding a baby in my arms, so small and perfect. The infant had grey eyes like Nikolai's, staring up at me with that intense focus newborns sometimes had. Tiny fingers wrapped around mine, gripping with surprising strength.
I looked down at my child and felt love so overwhelming it made my chest ache. This was my baby. Ours. The future we'd made together.
Then the baby started fading, becoming transparent in my arms. I tried to hold on tighter but my hands passed through like smoke. The grey eyes looked at me one last time, confused and hurt, before disappearing completely.
I woke up crying hard, tears streaming down my face and soaking the hospital pillow. My hands clutched at my empty stomach, at the bandage covering the wound that had taken everything.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the baby I'd never met, the child who'd never had a chance to exist outside my body. "I'm so sorry."
The grief was overwhelming, crushing, so much worse than anything I'd felt while awake. I'd lost something I hadn't known I wanted until it was gone, and now the absence was unbearable.
I cried until my throat was raw and my eyes burned and there were no more tears left. Then I just lay there in the darkness, one hand still pressed against my stomach, feeling the emptiness where life had briefly existed.
When morning came, I made myself a promise.
I would never let anyone hurt me again. Never let myself be used or manipulated or turned into a weapon. Never sign away my freedom or trust someone who saw me as a means to an end.
And I would protect Elena with everything I had. She'd survived years of hell because of men who thought they owned her. That ended now. We'd build a new life together, somewhere safe, somewhere far from Volkovs and Rousseaus and all the violence they brought.