Page 92 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

"But understanding is not forgiveness." Her voice breaks slightly on the last word. "Benedikt was my closest friend for most of my life. And you killed him."

"He tried to kill me," I remind her.

"I know." A single tear escapes down her cheek before she wipes it away impatiently. "I know all of that. My mind knows it was necessary. But my heart doesn't care about necessity or rules or justice. My heart only knows that someone I loved is dead, and I watched you pull the trigger."

The words hang between us, brutal and honest. I want to reach for her, to pull her into my arms and promise that everything will be okay. But I can't make that promise, and touching her right now feels like it would shatter whatever fragile control she's maintaining.

"I don't know if I can forgive you." She stands abruptly, putting distance between us. "And I don't know what that means for us."

She walks away before I can respond, her footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. I remain in my chair, staring at the space where she stood, confronting the terrifying possibility that I've destroyed the marriage we had only just begun to build.

The afternoon brings a different kind of disaster. I'm in my study reviewing security protocols when I notice the change. The staff move differently, their eyes sliding away when I pass, conversations stopping abruptly. Something has shifted in the household, and the wrongness of it sets my teeth on edge.

By evening, I know what happened. The whispers about Ana being pregnant have spread through the entire mansion like wildfire. The secret I explicitly ordered kept hidden for her safety has been deliberately leaked by someone inside this estate.

Rage burns through my veins, cold and controlled but absolutely lethal. I summon my captains to my study one by one, questioning each of them about who knew, who might have talked, who could have spread the information. The answers are useless. Only I, Ana, and Ivan knew about the pregnancy.

And Gregory. He'd walked in and overheard us talking, and the look he'd given me had betrayal written all over his face. Surely, he wouldn't have leaked the information!

I look out the window at the gardens below, my hands clenched into fists. A knock sounds at the door and one of my senior captains enters, his expression grim.

"What?" I don't turn around, my voice flat and dangerous.

"It's Gregory, Pakhan." He hesitates. "He disappeared during the night. Took all his belongings. He's gone."

47

ANA

The funeral takes place on Sunday afternoon at the Rostova estate. I stand in the family cemetery wearing black silk while the priest's voice rises and falls in Old Church Slavonic. Around me, members of the Rostova household staff gather with red eyes and quiet tears. They loved Benedikt, too.

My father stands beside me, his hand on my shoulder. Samuil isn't here. But I can see his security positioned at strategic points around the estate. I guess he figured it would be in poor taste to attend the funeral when he's responsible for killing Benedikt in the first place.

The priest finishes the final blessing, and I watch as the casket is lowered into the ground. My throat tightens with grief and it's all I can do to keep my tears from falling. It wouldn't do to cry in public, or so I've been told throughout my life.

"Princess Anastasia." One of the older household staff approaches, her weathered face wet with tears. "He cared for you so deeply. From the time you were a little girl, you were everything to him."

The words break something inside me. "I know," I manage to say. "He was family. I loved him."

She squeezes my hand before moving away. My father gives my shoulder one final squeeze and then he too walks away, leaving me alone at the graveside. I stand there for a long time, staring down at the fresh earth and the wilting flowers. My grief is nearly overwhelming. I can't see a life without Benedikt in it.

That night, I stay in my childhood bedroom at the Rostova estate. My father insisted, saying I needed time away from the Galkin mansion to process everything. I lie awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. Other memories begin surfacing, and I take some time to relish them.

Benedikt always positioned himself between me and other men. I thought he was protective. Now I remember the tension in his shoulders, his jaw clenching, and the cold looks. He grew cold after being reassigned to the Galkin estate. I thought he was homesick. Now I remember him watching me through doorways, finding excuses to be near me, his mood darkening whenever I mentioned Samuil. His body went rigid whenever Samuil touched me in public. I thought he disapproved of the marriage. Now I'm starting to see it clearly. It wasn't his disapproval I'd been seeing. It was jealousy.

Each memory replays with new understanding. His behavior had been inappropriate, but I'd ignored it because we'd been so close since childhood. He'd only been nine years older than me, but he'd seemed so much older and wiser.

Now, though, as I allow myself to see the truth and what was really going on, I can see that his behavior was not normal. He'd become obsessive over me, and it wasn't just about protection. He'd wanted me. Like a man wants a woman.

My heart still aches losing someone I loved like family. But my mind finally understands the truth, and that understanding doesn't make the pain easier. It just makes it more complicated.

Monday morning arrives with pale sunlight. I dress and head downstairs where my father waits. The return journey to the Galkin estate is conducted with royal formality. Armored SUVs and heavily armed guards surround us.

Samuil is waiting on the front steps when we arrive. I step out of the limousine and walk directly to him without hesitation. His dark eyes widen slightly in surprise.

"Ana," he says with one raised eyebrow.

"Let's go inside," I tell him quietly.