Chapter 48 Nikolai
I stood alone in the hospital hallway outside Marlena's room, my back pressed against the cold white wall, and felt my heart breaking into tiny bits.
Each piece fell somewhere inside my chest where I couldn't reach it, couldn't put it back together. The pain was physical, sharp and constant, like someone had reached into my ribcage and squeezed until everything cracked.
Her voice kept replaying in my head. I want a divorce. Right now.
The words were a knife that twisted deeper with every repetition. She'd said them with such cold certainty, such finality, that I knew she meant every syllable. There was no going back from this. No apology big enough or explanation good enough to fix what I'd broken.
I'd destroyed her. Used her. Manipulated her into a marriage built entirely on lies and revenge. And now she'd lost our baby because of it, a baby I hadn't even known was coming until the last moment when she whispered it with blood soaking through her shirt.
The baby.
God, the baby.
I kept thinking about it even though it hurt worse than anything I'd ever felt. A child that had been growing inside her for weeks, maybe longer, while I'd been dragging her through my vendetta. A tiny life that had never had a chance because of the choices I'd made, the violence I'd brought into our world.
I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the burning there. I hadn't cried since the safe house when Katya told me the truth about my parents, but I felt dangerously close to it now. My throat was tight and my chest ached and everything inside me screamed with grief and guilt that had nowhere to go.
I'd lost everything. Not just Marlena, but the future we might have had if I hadn't been so consumed with revenge. The family we could have built. The life we could have chosen instead of the one I'd forced on both of us.
My hands curled into tight fists at my sides and I squeezed until my nails cut into my palms, drawing blood. The physical pain was welcome, cleaner than the emotional kind. It gave me something to focus on besides the hollow ache in my chest.
I walked down the hallway slowly, my feet carrying me without direction, until I found myself standing in front of a large window overlooking the hospital grounds. Beyond the manicured gardens and parking lots, snow-covered mountains stretched toward a sky so blue it hurt to look at. The Swiss Alps, pristine and beautiful and completely indifferent to human suffering.
I stared at those mountains and thought about how my plan had ruined everything good.
Fifteen years of planning, five years of tracking Marlena specifically, months of marriage and manipulation. All of it leading to this moment where I stood alone in a hospital hallway, having destroyed the only person who'd ever looked at me like I might be worth saving.
Marlena's trust was gone. Shattered so completely I didn't know if it could ever be repaired. She'd looked at me with such cold rage when she demanded the divorce, such absolute certainty that I was the villain in her story. And she was right. I was the villain. I'd been the villain from the beginning.
Our child was gone, lost before it ever had a chance to exist in any real way. I'd never know if it would have had Marlena's green eyes or my grey ones, her cleverness or my calculated coldness. Never know what kind of parent I might have been, if I could have broken the cycle of violence and manipulation that had defined my own childhood.
Her mother's health was destroyed from years of captivity and drugs. Elena would recover physically, the doctors said, but the psychological damage from what Viktor had done to her would take years to heal, if it ever did. And that was partly my fault too, because I'd known she was alive and kept it from Marlena, used that knowledge as leverage instead of trying to free Elena sooner.
Even my own hope for something better was gone now. For a brief moment, when Marlena and I had stood together planning Viktor's takedown, I'd allowed myself to imagine a different ending. One where we survived and maybe found a way to build something real from the ruins of our fake marriage. Where the complicated feelings growing between us could turn into something that mattered.
But that hope was as dead as our baby.
I made my fists tighter until the pain in my palms intensified, blood now dripping slowly between my fingers onto the pristine hospital floor. A nurse passing by gave me a concerned look but I ignored her, focusing on the mountains instead.
I'd decided something while standing there listening to Marlena tell me to leave. A decision that felt both inevitable and impossible.
I would give Marlena everything she asked for. Everything she needed to build a new life far away from me and the destruction I brought.
Money. As much as she wanted. I'd transfer it immediately into accounts only she could access, enough to take care of her and Elena and Luka for the rest of their lives. They'd never have to work again if they didn't want to. Never have to struggle or sacrifice or make the kind of desperate choices that had led Marlena to my door in the first place.
New identities. Clean ones, untraceable, with documentation so perfect not even intelligence agencies could crack them. Marlena could become someone else entirely, someone who'd never been married to Nikolai Volkov or used as bait in his revenge. She could disappear with her family and start fresh somewhere I'd never find her.
Safety. Complete protection from any remaining enemies, anyone who might come looking for Viktor's daughter or Nikolai Volkov's wife. I had resources, networks, people who owed me favors. I'd use all of it to make sure Marlena was untouchable.
And distance. The hardest thing to give but the most necessary. I'd sign the divorce papers without contest, disappear from her life completely, never reach out or try to find her or check if she was okay. I'd let her go as thoroughly as a person could be let go.
Even if it meant I never saw her again.
Even if it felt like dying.
The thought of a world where Marlena existed but I couldn't see her, couldn't hear her voice or watch her move through space with that particular grace she had, made my chest constrict so painfully I couldn't breathe for a moment. But I knew I deserved that pain. Deserved worse, probably.
This was the consequence of my choices. This was what happened when you built a marriage on lies and used someone you claimed to care about as a weapon.
I unclenched my fists finally, looking at the crescent-shaped cuts in my palms where my nails had broken skin. Blood welled in the marks, dark red against pale skin. I should probably get them cleaned and bandaged but I didn't care enough to move.
Footsteps approached from down the hallway and I turned to see Dr. Weber, the surgeon who'd operated on Marlena. She was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and steady hands, the kind of doctor you wanted when your wife was bleeding out on an operating table.
"Mr. Volkov," she said, gesturing toward a small consultation room nearby. "Could we talk for a moment?"
I followed her into the room and she closed the door behind us. It was tiny and sterile with just a desk and two chairs. She sat behind the desk and I remained standing, my bloody hands hanging at my sides.
"How is she?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Marlena had made it very clear how she was.
"Physically, she's recovering well," Dr. Weber said, pulling out Marlena's chart. "The surgery was successful. We removed the bullet and repaired the internal damage. She'll need several weeks of rest and physical therapy, but she should make a full recovery."
"And the baby?" The words came out rougher than I intended.
Dr. Weber's expression softened with sympathy. "I'm very sorry. The trauma from the gunshot and the internal bleeding caused a miscarriage. There was nothing we could have done to prevent it."
I nodded, my jaw clenched tight against the grief trying to escape.
"However," Dr. Weber continued, "there's no medical reason why she couldn't have a healthy pregnancy in the future, once she's fully healed. The damage wasn't permanent in that sense."
The words should have been comforting. They felt like another knife instead. Marlena could have children someday, just not with me. She'd build a life with someone else, someone who didn't lie to her or use her or get her shot.
"What about her emotional state?" I asked.
Dr. Weber set down the chart, her expression growing more serious. "That's more complicated. Marlena's body will heal in a matter of weeks, but her heart will need considerably more time. She's experienced significant trauma, both physical and psychological. The miscarriage, the violence, the betrayal she mentioned—" She paused delicately. "These things leave scars that don't show up on medical scans."
"How long?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
"Months. Maybe years. It depends on many factors, including the support system she has and whether she seeks counseling." Dr. Weber looked at me directly. "I understand your marriage is ending. That's probably for the best, given the circumstances. But she'll need people who care about her, people she can trust. Family. Friends. A therapist who specializes in trauma."
I nodded, filing away the information. I'd make sure she had all of that, even if I couldn't be part of it myself.
"When can she leave?" I asked.
"A few more days. We want to monitor for infection and make sure she's stable enough for discharge. She'll need someone to help her for the first few weeks at home, assistance with daily tasks while she recovers."
"Her mother is in the next room," I said. "But she's also recovering. They'll need care."
"We can arrange for home nurses, physical therapists, whatever they need. Do you have a place secured for them?"
"Not yet, but I will." My mind was already working through logistics. "I'll find somewhere safe and comfortable. A house, not an apartment. Private, with good security. Close to medical facilities in case of emergencies."
Dr. Weber made notes on her tablet. "I'll coordinate with our discharge planning team. We'll make sure all the necessary support is arranged before they leave."
I pulled out my phone and opened my banking app, transferring a significant amount into the hospital's account. "This should cover all their medical expenses, plus any additional care they need. If it's not enough, contact me immediately."
She looked at the notification on her computer screen and her eyebrows rose slightly. "That's quite generous, Mr. Volkov."
"It's the least I can do." The words tasted bitter. Money couldn't fix what I'd broken, but it was all I had left to give.
I signed papers authorizing the hospital to provide whatever treatment Marlena and Elena needed, giving them full access to the best doctors and specialists available. I arranged for private rooms, specialized care, round-the-clock nursing if necessary. Everything they could possibly need.
"Is there anything else?" Dr. Weber asked when we'd finished with the paperwork.
"Yes." I met her eyes. "Don't tell Marlena I'm paying for this. Let her think it's covered by insurance or a charity fund. She won't accept my help if she knows it's coming from me."
Dr. Weber studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "You love her."
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "Yes."
"Then why –" She stopped herself. "I'm sorry. That's not my place."
"It's fine." I stood, suddenly exhausted down to my bones. "I made choices that hurt her. Now I'm living with the consequences."
I left the consultation room and walked through the hospital corridors one last time. Past Marlena's room where I could hear the faint murmur of voices, her and Elena talking. Past the nurses' station where staff moved efficiently through their shifts. Past the elevator that would take me down to the lobby and out into the cold Swiss morning.
At the exit, I stopped and looked back. Somewhere in this building was the woman I'd married, the woman I'd destroyed, the woman who'd demanded a divorce and meant it.
I'd probably never see her again. Never hear her voice or watch her smile or feel her hand in mine.
The thought made something crack inside my chest, so painful I had to lean against the wall for support.
But this was right. This was what she needed.
I pushed through the doors and stepped out into the snow, feeling the cold bite through my blood-stained shirt. The mountains loomed in the distance, beautiful and indifferent.
I had no idea where I was going or what I'd do next. The revenge that had driven me for fifteen years was finished. Viktor was dead. My mother was alive but living a life I couldn't be part of. Katya had disappeare
d again, back into whatever shadows she'd emerged from.
And Marlena was gone, even though she was still just a few floors above me.