Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I can tell you this—I’m not somebody who lets go easily. My hands clench into fists. “You’re telling me I could break my brain?”
The doctor looks at Rafail again before he responds. "To be perfectly honest, I can't make any guarantees. There's no way to truly break a brain,” he says, quoting me. “But we want to make sure that you have proper healing.”
He’s raised more questions than he’s given answers. "But I need to know. I need to remember. It's like I've been dropped in a foreign land, and I don't speak the language."
Something like fire ignites in Rafail's eyes, but he doesn't answer or say anything.
The doctor leans back, his expression vaguely sympathetic. "I understand that, but you must be cautious. You don't want to force a memory to come back and trigger more confusion or even introduce false memories."
My stomach plummets. Before this conversation, I had no idea that was a possibility.
The truth is… the man beside me is the biggest question of all.
He tells me I’m his wife, but I don't feel that way.
Why was I running? I need to know.
His answers have been fruitless so far. I turn to Rafail. The brief silence that follows is heavy, nauseating, as Rafail's eyes darken, and when he speaks, his tone is typically cold and chilling. "You were running,” he says softly. "I told you that."
“I know, but why?” Surely, there was a better way to handle things.
He doesn't answer right away, his jaw clenched. Finally, he says in a low but clear tone, "You didn't want the life we had, Anissa. You were trying to escape it.”
I can almost hear the words he doesn’t say aloud: but there is no escape.
The doctor interjects, “I understand this is a lot, but I recommend you just focus on resting your brain right now. Give yourself time to heal.”
Give myself time to heal? Take this easy? I balk at him. "What if I never remember?"
Rafail shakes his head. “I promised you we’d ask questions, but we need to leave now.”
Suddenly, my husband’s phone buzzes. His brow furrows as he pulls it from his pocket and shakes his head. "We need to go. Thank you for your time, doctor. I wired the funds to your account."
The doctor’s brows shoot up. Wired funds sound like some underground negotiation, not a medical consultation. I wonder how much he paid him.
When we’re outside, I stare at Rafail, eyes wide. “What happened?”
He smiles at me, bends, and kisses my cheek. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Not yet, anyway.” We walk toward the car. “Semyon saw a threat retreat, one I feared.” He turns toward me with a soft smile on his lips. “You said you wanted to go see the city? Let’s go, Mrs. Kopolov. You own this city.”
Chapter 14
“ANISSA”
Snow falls like starlight, dusting the narrow, cobblestone streets of Zalivka. The buildings rise close around us. It feels familiar yet different, like visiting a city in a foreign country that resembles home, but the locals speak another language.
This is a place that has seen centuries pass and keeps its secrets hidden within stone walls and narrow alleys. I feel both curious and cautious as I walk beside Rafail, his presence a shield. I wonder how much the Kopolovs have played the part of gatekeeper.
I note as people stare in his direction with wary respect, and a few nod to him, casting glances toward me as if to assess my role beside him. I can see it in their eyes—they know him as something of a myth here, feared yet respected, the kind of man who could command a whole town’s obedience with a mere look. Naturally. His reputation precedes him, and with each step, I feel it pressing down on me like a weight. In this world… in these streets, filled with old-world charm and traditional values he both embraces and challenges… where does he fit in?
Where do I?
Rafail keeps his hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward with a firm, possessive touch. I wish I could skip these crutches and be less conspicuous, but I’ll have to deal for now.
I try to push my doubts aside and lose myself in the sights around us, but they resurface when a frail, elderly woman catches my eye. She stares at me and then looks at Rafail, her brow furrowed in concentration. Someone talks to her, but she ignores them while she hobbles toward me. Bundled in layers, her small, frail hands tuck the scarf around her neck.
I open my mouth to speak to her, but I don’t even know what I’ll say.
Do I know you?
Do you know me?
But a large crowd of university students push past us, nearly jostling me.
“Watch it,” Rafail growls, parting them so I can walk safely. And when they’re past us, the old lady is gone.