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I try to respond, try to argue, but the words dissolve as the pressure inside me builds to a breaking point. Instead, his name falls from my lips.

“Andrei…”

He kisses me again, softer this time, almost soothing.

“I know,” he whispers, his voice gentler now. “I know, baby.”

A wave of sensation crashes through me, stealing my breath, leaving me trembling as the world fades to white for a brief, dizzying moment. My body shudders beneath his touch, and I cry out his name as the feeling rushes through me.

He captures the sound with another kiss, holding me there while the intensity slowly ebbs, leaving me weak and boneless against the mattress.

I let out a soft hiss as his hand withdraws, my body still sensitive, still humming. For a moment, everything is quiet except for the sound of our breathing.

Then he pulls me closer, gathering me against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around me. His hand moves slowly up and down my back, steady and soothing, the rhythm calming my racing heart.

Exhaustion finally claims me. My eyelids grow heavy, my body melting into his warmth. Just before sleep pulls me under, I hear his voice, low, possessive, close to my ear.

“You’re mine.”

The next morning, I wake up alone in bed.

For a second, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling. I can’t remember the last time I felt this well rested. Slowly, I stretch, my muscles loosening beneath the soft sheets, and reach for the clock on the nightstand.

Past nine. My heart gives a small jolt. Anya.

I sit up quickly, pushing the blanket aside. I swing my legs off the bed and hurry into the bathroom. The cool tile meets my bare feet as I grab my toothbrush, moving quickly. I brush my teeth, splash water on my face, and pull my hair into a quick bun.

As I descend the stairs, voices drift from the kitchen. Anya chatting nonstop. Relief floods my chest before I even reach the doorway.

Anya sits at the kitchen island, swinging her legs happily from the stool, talking animatedly while the housekeeper moves around the stove, cooking and nodding along.

“Mommy!” Anya calls the moment she sees me.

I walk straight to her, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in for a second longer than necessary.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

She beams up at me.

“Daddy said to let you sleep,” she announces proudly. “Did you sleep well?”

I blink, surprised.

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “I did.”

Better than I have in years. Daria turns and smiles warmly. “Good morning, miss,” she says, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of me.

I sigh softly at the sight of it. “Thank you,” I reply, accepting the cup. “And please… I’ve told you before, just call me Rosie.”

She gives a polite nod, though I can tell she’ll probably keep calling me miss anyway.

I slide onto the stool beside Anya, wrapping one hand around the warm mug. “Where’s Andrei?” I ask casually.

“He left very early this morning,” the housekeeper answers.

I nod slowly, staring down into my coffee. He must have left right after I fell asleep. The thought unsettles me. He’s injured. Shouldn’t he be resting? Does he ever rest?

Images from last night flash through my mind—him walking into the house drenched in blood. How often will he come home like that? What if Anya sees him like that someday? What if she grows up thinking that kind of violence is normal?