Page 87 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

Samuil's lips twitch like he's fighting a smile. He pulls my rejected plate closer and starts eating without complaint, indulging my pregnancy whims without argument.

I manage a few bites of the simpler food, forcing myself to eat even though my appetite has vanished. The conversation flows around me as my father and Samuil discuss business matters, their voices a comfortable background noise.

Then, without warning, pain twists through my stomach like a knife. I gasp, my fork clattering against the plate. The pain intensifies, sharp and vicious, tearing through my abdomen with brutal force. I double over, unable to breathe, unable to think past the agony ripping through my body.

"Ana?" Samuil's voice sounds distant, muffled.

The fork slips from my hand and hits the floor with a metallic clang. Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision as the pain becomes unbearable, consuming everything else. My hands clutch at my stomach, trying to hold myself together as my body convulses.

I try to speak, to tell them something is wrong, but no words come out. Only a choked gasp as the world tilts sideways and consciousness begins to slip away.

44

SAMUIL

Ana's fork hits the floor with a sharp clang that cuts through the dining room like a gunshot. Her face drains of all color in an instant. She doubles over with a strangled gasp, her hands clutching at her stomach.

"Ana?" My chair crashes backward as I surge to my feet. I'm around the table before her body starts to crumple, catching her before she hits the floor. "Ana!"

Her eyes roll back, showing only whites. A low, agonized moan escapes her lips as her entire body convulses in my arms. The sound tears through my chest like a blade.

"Get the physician!" I roar at the nearest guard. "Now!"

Ivan is already on his feet, his face carved from stone but his eyes betraying raw terror. He reaches for his daughter, but I'm already moving, carrying her out of the dining room with long, urgent strides. Her head lolls against my shoulder, her breathing shallow and rapid.

"Stay with me, Princess," I mutter against her hair, taking the stairs two at a time. "Don't you fucking dare leave me."

The physician's quarters are on the second floor. I kick the door open hard enough that it slams against the wall. The doctor looks up from his desk, startled, then immediately springs into action when he sees Ana limp in my arms.

"Put her on the examination table." His voice is calm and professional. "What happened?"

"She collapsed at dinner." I lay Ana down as gently as I can manage, my hands shaking despite my best efforts to stay controlled. "She was eating, then suddenly, she was crumpled over in pain."

The physician moves quickly, checking her pulse, her breathing, and lifting her eyelids to examine her pupils. His hands are steady and sure as he presses carefully against her abdomen. Ana moans again, the sound weak and thready, and my hands curl into fists at my sides.

"I need to examine her properly. Step back, please."

I don't move. I can't. My feet feel rooted to the floor, my entire body locked in place as I watch the physician work.

Ivan appears in the doorway, his face ashen. He looks at his daughter lying motionless on the examination table, and for the first time since I've known him, the powerful man looks genuinely terrified.

The physician works in focused silence. Minutes stretch into an eternity. Finally, he straightens and turns to face me.

"She'll recover," he says quietly. "Both she and the baby will be fine."

The relief hits me so hard, my knees almost buckle. I grab the edge of the examination table to steady myself, my breath coming out in a harsh exhale. "You're certain?"

"Yes. It was poison, but whatever she ingested, she didn't consume enough for it to cause permanent damage." He pauses, his expression growing more serious. "But Pakhan, the symptoms she's displaying are consistent with poisoning. Specifically, a slow-acting toxin designed to cause organ failure over several hours."

The words register slowly, each one sinking in like a stone dropping into dark water. "She wasn't eating from her own plate," I say slowly, my voice dropping to something cold and deadly. "She took mine."

The physician's eyes widen slightly as understanding dawns. "Then the poison was meant for you."

Fury settles over me like a sheet of ice, cold and absolute. Someone tried to kill me in my own home, at my own table, and nearly murdered my wife and unborn child in the process.

"Test the food," I order, my voice flat and emotionless. "All of it. I want to know exactly what was used and which dish was poisoned."

"Of course, Pakhan." The physician moves quickly to comply.