Chapter 4

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed.

Mikhail sat beside me, looking completely drained. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his hair was disheveled, and that usual air of superiority was nowhere to be found.

"Calliope, you're finally awake." Relief flickered in his eyes as he gripped my hand tightly. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I failed to protect you."

I stared at him quietly, feeling nothing. If this had happened before, seeing him look so guilty would have broken my heart. I would have rushed to comfort him, telling him it wasn't his fault.

But not anymore.

"I've fired those servants," Mikhail said urgently, as if trying to prove something. "And my mother – I've given her a stern warning. She promised she won't bother you again."

A warning? I nearly died at his mother's hands, and all he did was give her a warning? From beginning to end, he never considered telling the truth because it would damage the Volkov family's reputation.

"Fine." I responded flatly, then closed my eyes.

Mikhail was clearly stunned. He probably hadn't expected such coldness from me.

The room fell silent. After a moment, he spoke again. "There's something else. Word is getting out about our marital problems, and it's bad for the family. Once you're discharged, we need to put on a show of being in love for the press to squash those rumors."

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He sat there expectantly, waiting for my agreement, just like countless times over the past three years. This was always his way – telling me what he needed, then waiting for my cooperation.

But this time, I didn't want to cooperate.

I pointed to the cast on my leg, then to the IV in my arm, finally touching the bruises on my face. "Looking like this, I can't exactly play the loving wife. Go find Bianca to put on your show."

Then I turned away from him.

"You..." His voice was filled with disbelief. "Why have you become so cold lately? You never used to talk to me like this."

I could hear the panic in his voice.

He was right – the old me never acted this way. The old me was always obedient, never fought back, and even when I was hurting inside, I'd smile and say "it's okay."

"Didn't you always say I was too clingy?" I didn't turn around, my voice so calm it sounded strange even to me. "Now I'm giving you space. What more do you want?"

That shut him up completely. I knew exactly what he was thinking, remembering all those times he'd scolded me:

"As Mrs. Volkov, can't you show some class? Getting jealous of my sister is embarrassing!"

"Stop clinging to me. It's suffocating."

"Can't you give me some personal space?"

Now that I'd actually given him that space, he was panicking.

The room stayed quiet for a long time before he sighed.

"I know you're still angry about the baby," he said carefully. "I've had the lawyers rewrite my will. You can inherit thirty percent of my assets. Does that work?"

Thirty percent of his wealth. He thought that's what I wanted, that money could compensate for losing our child.

"We'll start fresh," he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I won't make the same mistakes again."

Then he left. I heard him tell the nurses he was going to buy something for Bianca.

Shortly after he left, my phone buzzed twice.

The first text was from my divorce lawyer: "Papers are ready. We can file tomorrow."

The second was from Federal Agent Johnson: "Biodefense program starts tomorrow. Transport is arranged."

I finally smiled – the first real smile I'd had in days. I'd finally made it to the day I could leave this all behind.

Night fell, leaving only the steady beeping of monitoring equipment in my room. I lay quietly, feeling a peace I hadn't known in years.

Suddenly, the door opened. I expected a nurse, but it was Bianca who entered.

She wore a hospital gown, her face twisted in a contemptuous smile.

Seeing my surprise, she said mockingly, "What? You look shocked to see me."

She approached my bed, radiating satisfaction. "He just finished giving me a massage. Said I couldn't sleep because my neck was bothering me. He's probably resting in the staff room now."

"Today he even went to that French place to buy me macarons," she continued smugly. "Said the hospital desserts weren't good enough for my taste."

I laughed bitterly. "Tomorrow is my birthday. In three years, he's never remembered it once, but he knows you love vanilla and raspberry macarons."

A flash of surprise crossed Bianca's eyes, quickly replaced by excitement. "Oh? You can still stay so calm? I guess you really don't care anymore."

"Why would I care?" I tried to keep my voice steady.

"That makes me even more curious," she settled into the chair like she was preparing to enjoy our conversation. "Aren't you the least bit curious about that attack? Like... why I came out unharmed while you lost your baby?"

Alarm bells went off in my head. Her smug expression told me she was about to reveal something horrible. I pretended to adjust my position while secretly reaching for my phone.

"An accident is an accident. What's there to be curious about?" I feigned indifference.

"Accident?" Bianca suddenly burst into laughter. "Ha! You actually think it was an accident?"

My heart began racing. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she leaned closer, lowering her voice, "it wasn't an accident at all."

"That's impossible!" I blurted out. "If it wasn't an accident, why would Mikhail let me get hurt?"

Seeing my reaction, Bianca grew more excited. "Oh, now you care? Then let me tell you the truth – Mikhail orchestrated that entire attack!"

I felt my blood freeze. "You're... you're lying!"

"Lying?" Her eyes gleamed with cruel pleasure. "You think it's a coincidence he rushed to me instead of you? Because he knew I was safe! He planned the whole thing!"

"No... that's impossible..." I clutched the bedsheets.

"He didn't want you to have children. He only wants me to give him an heir. So he deliberately staged that 'accident' to make you miscarry." Bianca continued mercilessly. "And you know what the cruelest part is?"

I couldn't speak, could only stare at her in horror.

"The baby's remains – he personally ordered their disposal." Her voice dripped with malicious glee. "He said, 'I don't want to see it. Get rid of it quickly.' Then he had them fed to the dogs."

"Hahaha! And there you were, crying for a child he never wanted! You were mourning a baby he was desperate to eliminate!"

My body shook uncontrollably, my vision blurring.

"Well, I should head back," Bianca said, smoothing her hospital gown with satisfaction. "When Mikhail finishes his rest, he'll come keep me company. I need to get ready."

She gave me one last contemptuous look and swaggered out of the room.

After her footsteps faded completely, I wiped my tears, clenched my fists, and made a silent vow: "Mikhail Volkov, you will pay for this."

That night, I never closed my eyes. I lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying every word Bianca had said. For three years, I'd been nothing more than a fool being manipulated by them.

At dawn, I texted my lawyer to meet me at the courthouse.

At six AM, I changed into street clothes, got in a wheelchair, and went straight to the courthouse.

When I handed in the divorce papers myself, my hands were steady, without a tremor of hesitation.

"Ma'am, are you certain you don't want mediation?" the judge asked.

"No," I said firmly. "This is an unforgivable betrayal."

The divorce decree would be final within twenty-four hours.

When I left the courthouse, black SUVs with government plates were waiting. The first thing I did after getting in the car was upload last night's recording of my conversation with Bianca to every major media outlet.

The headline read: "EXCLUSIVE AUDIO: Volkov Family Head Orchestrated Murder of His Own Child."

Since you destroyed my child, I'll destroy your empire.

I turned off my phone as the convoy slowly pulled away from the courthouse. Through the window, I watched the city that had imprisoned me for three years gradually disappear.

Finally, I was free. And your downfall was just beginning.