Page 85 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

"Fine." I nod once. "Friday evening. You'll coordinate with the kitchen staff."

Relief washes over Benedikt's face. "Thank you, Pakhan. I won't disappoint you."

After he leaves, Ana sets down her book and crosses to where I'm standing. "That was kind of you."

"Don't mistake pragmatism for kindness." But my tone lacks its usual edge. "If it helps smooth things over, it's worth it."

She rises on her toes and kisses my cheek. "Still. Thank you."

That evening, I'm in the library reviewing security reports when I hear voices in the hallway. The workers I hired to dismantle and remove the collapsed bookcase have finally finished their job. I step out to inspect their work.

The massive bookcase has been completely dismantled, its pieces stacked carefully against the far wall. The floor has been swept clean, and the damaged books have been sorted into piles for repair or disposal. The workers are packing up their tools when I notice something odd.

On the support beam where the bookcase once stood, there's a small mark in the wood. It's barely visible under years of accumulated dust and grime, but something about it catches my attention.

I cross the room and crouch down, brushing away the debris with my hand. The mark becomes clearer and a chill works its way down my spine. The fucking symbol!

43

ANA

The morning sunlight streams through the library windows, casting long shadows across the floor where the massive bookcase once stood. I sit in one of the leather chairs near the fireplace, watching my father and Samuil examine the exposed support beam. The workers finished dismantling the collapsed bookcase late last night, and what Samuil discovered has left all three of us unsettled.

My father leans closer to the beam, his fingers tracing the carved symbol worn smooth by time. The bruises on his face have faded to yellow and green, and he moves with more confidence than he did even a few days ago. He's wearing dark slacks and a gray sweater, looking more like the powerful man he's always been.

"This symbol is old," my father says quietly. "Very old. Look at how worn it is, how the edges have been smoothed by decades, maybe even a century of exposure."

Samuil stands beside him, his expression dark and dangerous. He's dressed in black pants and a charcoal button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the tattoos that cover his forearms. His jaw is tight as he stares at the carved symbol.

"Which means this goes way back, to someone in my own family," Samuil says, his voice low and controlled. "Since this bookcase has been in my family for generations, someone must have known about it. The question is, was it a traitor or a warning?"

A chill runs down my spine. I pull my cardigan tighter around my shoulders, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth.

"The threat is escalating," my father says, straightening up and turning to face us.

Samuil moves away from the beam and crosses to the table where several journals and documents are spread out. He picks up one of the older journals, flipping through pages covered in faded handwriting.

"What concerns me most is how close they've gotten," Samuil says. "The bookcase collapse happened here, in my estate. The symbol was carved into a beam that's been part of this library for generations."

My stomach twists with anxiety. "You think someone inside the estate is involved?"

"I think it's possible," Samuil says, meeting my eyes. "Maybe one of the retainers who came with Ivan. Maybe someone from the household staff who's been here for years. I don't know yet. But someone is feeding information to whoever is orchestrating this."

The thought makes me feel sick.

"We need to be careful about whom we trust," my father says. "The circle of people who know what we've discovered needs to stay small."

Samuil nods, his expression grim. "Agreed. Which brings me to something else we need to discuss."

He looks at me, and something in his expression makes my heart beat faster. I know what he's about to say before the words leave his mouth.

"The pregnancy," Samuil says quietly. "No one beyond the three of us can know about it. Not until we've identified who's behind this conspiracy and eliminated the threat."

"Ana is already a target because she's the last Rostova heir," my father says, his voice heavy with concern. "But now she's carrying the next generation. That makes her an even bigger target."

"Which is why absolute secrecy is critical," Samuil continues. "The moment word gets out that Ana is pregnant, whoever is behind this will move faster. They'll take more risks. And I won't give them that opportunity."

The door opens and Gregory walks in. His gaze scans the room, landing on each of us before dropping to my stomach. His mouth tightens, then he looks at Samuil with a mix of hurt and anger.