Chapter 4 Cage tightens
Anya didn't pause to respond, letting Dima’s chilling parting shot hang in the air behind her. She pushed through the heavy, reinforced door, her movements driven by a need to escape his immediate, suffocating presence. The click of the door locking behind her was a final, cold period on the conversation. Ivan, the house manager, immediately fell into step beside her, his face as blank and unreadable as ever.
"Did Dimitri Volkov… clarify the matters to his satisfaction, Miss Petrova?" Ivan asked, his tone polite but entirely devoid of human curiosity.
"He clarified his expectations, Ivan," Anya replied dryly, the adrenaline starting to fade, leaving behind a cold, shaky dread. His expectations are absolute obedience and full surrender of my mind.
As they walked back through the sterile corridors toward the west wing, Anya focused on regaining her composure. Dima’s analytic power was his greatest weapon, and she realized the true danger lay not in his physical intimidation, but in his ability to dismantle her carefully constructed emotional defenses. She had to learn to build a wall he couldn’t see through.
When they reached the west wing suite, Evelyn was still oblivious, holding a large, expensive velvet box. "Anya, darling, look what Nikolai sent! A welcoming gift!"
Anya forced herself to smile. "That’s... generous, Maman."
"It's jewelry, of course," Evelyn said, opening the box to reveal a glittering, intricate diamond cuff. "Isn't it exquisite? He truly understands how to provide." She placed the cuff on her own wrist, admiring the reflection.
Anya walked past her and sank onto the chaise lounge. She needed to establish the cold, transactional nature of the marriage with Evelyn, hoping to inject reality before it was too late.
"Maman, did Nikolai or Dima discuss the financial arrangements with you? Did they explain why they chose you now?" Anya asked, keeping her voice low and non-confrontational.
Evelyn’s excited expression immediately clouded over, replaced by the defensive stubbornness Anya had seen the day before. Evelyn resisted all attempts to introduce uncomfortable truths.
"Must we discuss sordid details, Anya? Nikolai said he was charmed by me, and that's that," Evelyn insisted, turning her wrist to catch the light on the diamond cuff. "They are simply taking care of things now that your father is gone. It's security, not a business meeting."
"But it is a business meeting, Maman," Anya pressed, her voice gentle but firm. "I just met with Dima. He didn't ask about our comfort; he asked about the 'Petrova Key.' Something abstract and secret about Father's assets. He sees this marriage as a hostile takeover for a specific informational asset, not a rescue for a beautiful woman."
Evelyn stood up abruptly, her face flushed with denial. "Stop this, Anya! Stop trying to undermine my happiness! You are angry about moving and you are projecting your cynicism onto this beautiful, stable life!" She gestured widely at the massive, impersonal suite.
"I am trying to protect you from being dangerously naive about the men you've just placed your entire life in the hands of," Anya retorted, rising to face her. "Dimitri Volkov's eyes hold no warmth, Maman, only a cold, predatory appraisal. He is ruthless, and he knows I am hiding something he wants. He is watching us."
Evelyn threw her hands up, the diamond cuff flashing. "He is intense! He is a genius! He is working! What did you expect, a puppy? I am not listening to this. You are isolated and lonely, and I will not let you ruin this peace for me!"
Anya realized the depth of her mother's delusion. Evelyn wasn't merely resisting the truth; she was utterly reliant on the fantasy of being rescued by a powerful man. She is dangerously naive about her new husband and his family. I am completely isolated.
Anya fell silent, acknowledging the impossibility of changing her mother's mind. She was trapped with her mother's delusion, and this house was a cage built on a lie.
She walked to the inner door of the suite, the one leading to the smaller sitting room where she’d heard the faint humming. She pushed the door open and paused, her hand gripping the cold metal knob.
"I need to be alone, Maman," Anya said quietly.
"Fine. Go. Ruin your day," Evelyn snapped, already turning back to admire the cuff.
Anya closed the door softly behind her and crossed the sitting room to the marble molding. She crouched down, her fingers delicately tracing the circular outline of the embedded metal disc she suspected was a microphone. She leaned in, focusing on the faint, electric hum.
She pulled a thin, metal object—a decorative hairpin—from her hair and began to gently probe the tiny seam around the disc, trying to determine if it could be physically disabled or removed without sounding an alarm.
Suddenly, the door from the main suite burst open. Evelyn stood there, her composure completely gone.
"Anya! Nikolai just called. He spoke to Dima. They’ve decided it’s best if you immediately withdraw from your university enrollment. He says you need to focus on 'new family responsibilities' and acclimating to the estate." Evelyn's voice was tight with stress, the order clearly coming from Nikolai, not her.
Anya’s hand froze inches from the microphone. She slowly stood up, letting the hairpin drop silently to the carpet, her entire body rigid with shock and rage. The order was not a request; it was an act of complete control, cutting off her last external tie to her old life.
They are cutting my roots. They want me isolated and weak.
"He didn't ask, Maman. He commanded it," Anya stated, her voice shaking with suppressed fury. "I am not moving into their home; I am moving into a prison."
Evelyn looked genuinely distressed, the diamond cuff suddenly seeming heavy and meaningless. "It's for the best, darling! You can study here, later! It’s just... a transition!"
Anya walked past her mother, toward the large window, feeling the weight of the gilded cage. She looked out at the vast, green landscape that offered no escape.
"No, Maman," Anya whispered, her gaze fixed on the impenetrable perimeter walls. "This isn't a transition. This is the start of a fight." She looked down at her hand, where the hairpin had fallen, realizing that her only chance of survival was to resist the cage, even if it meant risking exposure to Dima’s terrifying scrutiny. The silence of the heavily monitored room seemed to tighten around her, waiting for her next move.