Chapter 14.

NIKOLAI VOLKOV. The walls of my estate were soundproofed—triple-layered insulation designed to keep the world out and my secrets in but apparently, they were no match for the rage of Nora Volkov. For hours, I lay in the dark of the master suite, staring at the shadowed ceiling, listening to her. She wasn't screaming in terror or sobbing in grief, she was cursing me. Her voice was muffled, every time I started to drift off, I'd hear a thud followed by a fresh stream of insults. She called me a tyrant, a bastard, a soulless husk of a man. She questioned my lineage, my honor, and my humanity. Most women would have exhausted themselves by 3:00 AM. Nora seemed to feed on her own fury. I didn't sleep, I just lay there, my jaw tight, wondering when I had lost control of my own house. Then, around 7:00 AM, the silence fell, and somehow, it was worse than the noise. I kicked the sheets off, my patience finally snapping. I grabbed a fresh shirt, buttoned it, and walked to her room. I opened my b