Chapter 2 — Bound by Chains, Broken by Will
Olivia
The heavy doors of the Novikov estate groaned as they swung open, admitting gusts of icy air and the sound of wheels crunching against the gravel driveway. Olivia stood by the staircase, her gray eyes fixed on the entrance, her breath shallow and uneven. The bags at her feet were neatly packed, their weight symbolic of the life she was leaving behind.
Her mother’s sharp voice snapped through the frigid air. “Don’t embarrass us further, Olivia. If you can even manage that,” she said, her tone cold enough to cut glass.
Olivia’s fingers ghosted over the locket at her neck, the cool silver grounding her amidst the storm of emotions threatening to overtake her. Dmitri’s face, etched in the tiny photo within, flashed in her mind like a fragile beacon against the encroaching darkness. She wanted to say something, but the words remained trapped, heavy with years of suppression.
“Always so silent,” Anastasia’s voice slid through the tension, honeyed and sharp. She descended the staircase with deliberate grace, her sapphire earrings catching the dim light in deliberate flickers. “But silence suits you, doesn’t it? Connor Agosti doesn’t seem the type to tolerate much more than that.”
Olivia’s fingers tightened around the locket, her nails pressing into her palm. A surge of something—anger, perhaps, or defiance—flared briefly inside her, only to be smothered by the all-too-familiar weight of inferiority. Relief and fear clashed within her: relief at leaving this house of venom, and fear of the unknown life waiting for her.
“Girls!” Their father’s booming voice silenced the room. He strode in, his broad frame and weathered features exuding authority, his irritation palpable. “Enough of this petty bickering. Olivia, you are leaving. Now.”
His words struck like a gavel, final and unyielding. Olivia bent to retrieve her bag, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted it by the worn leather strap. Her mother’s scorn, her father’s indifference, Anastasia’s mocking amusement—all of it pressed down on her shoulders, heavier than the bag in her grip.
Anastasia wasn’t done. “You’ll fail, you know,” she murmured, just loud enough for Olivia to hear. “You’re not strong enough for someone like him.”
The words stung, but more than that, they simmered. Olivia’s gaze flicked up, catching a fleeting crack in Anastasia’s icy composure. Fear? Jealousy? The thought surfaced for just a moment before vanishing, leaving Olivia to wonder if it had been real.
The sleek black car waiting outside loomed like a specter. The driver, tall and silent as a shadow in his dark suit, opened the back door with a wordless gesture. His impassive gaze flickered past her, as if she were already part of someone else’s world.
Olivia paused on the threshold, her feet rooted to the stained marble floor. The cold air bit at her cheeks, stinging like the harsh words her mother had thrown at her over the years. She pressed her fingers against the locket one last time, as if Dmitri’s memory could lend her the courage she desperately needed.
Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly and stepped forward, her knees nearly buckling as she crossed the threshold.
The icy wind whipped around her, but she didn’t look back, not even when her father’s growl followed her. “Go on.”
The car’s interior was a cocoon of warmth, the leather seats soft yet unyielding. She sank into them stiffly, clutching her bag in her lap like a shield. The door closed with a muted thud, and the Novikov estate melted into the distance, consumed by the night.
The rhythmic crunch of gravel under the tires gave way to the smooth hum of asphalt. Shadows of the city blurred past the car windows, and Olivia’s faint reflection stared back at her, fractured by the passing streetlights. Dmitri’s face filled her thoughts again. She wondered what he would have told her to do. To fight? To run?
She traced the edge of the locket with trembling fingers and whispered, “I hope you’re watching, Dmitri. I don’t know if I can do this.”
The sprawling urban chaos of the city gradually faded, replaced by the quiet isolation of the hilltop. The car slowed as the iron gates of Connor’s estate loomed ahead, their intricate design coiled with an almost predatory elegance. Red lights blinked from security cameras like watchful eyes, tracking their every move.
Her stomach churned as they passed through. With every turn of the wheels, the fortress seemed to grow taller, more imposing, its presence suffocating. The mansion itself was a masterpiece of cold grandeur, floodlights casting its towering façade into stark relief. It was beautiful, yes, but distant and unfeeling—a perfect mirror of the man who had summoned her here.
The car rolled to a stop, and Olivia’s pulse quickened to a deafening roar. The driver stepped out, opening the door for her with a practiced, silent efficiency. The chill of the night wrapped around her again as she stepped onto the cobblestone driveway, her legs unsteady beneath her.
A figure waited at the entrance—a woman with auburn curls tied neatly back and a kind, tired smile. The warmth in her gaze was almost jarring against the coldness of the mansion.
“Miss Novikov,” she greeted softly. “Welcome.”
Olivia blinked, startled into silence. She wasn’t used to this—this gentleness, this civility without barbs hidden beneath.
“I’m Allison,” the woman continued, stepping forward to take Olivia’s bag. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
Olivia’s grip tightened around the strap, her knuckles whitening. “I can carry it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Allison’s smile didn’t waver. “It’s all right. You’ve had a long day.”
The firmness in her tone left no room for argument. With reluctance, Olivia let go of the bag, her arms falling limply to her sides.
The mansion’s interior was as imposing as its exterior. Marble floors gleamed under the light of crystal chandeliers, their perfection reflecting the cold sterility of the space. Dark wooden doors lined the corridors like sentinels, and the faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air, mingling with polished wood and something faintly metallic.
“Your quarters are in the east wing,” Allison explained as they walked. “It’s quieter there. You’ll have your own space.”
Olivia nodded mutely, her eyes darting from one detail to the next. The scale of it all was overwhelming—the silence, the weight of the unknown pressing down on her chest.
They stopped in front of a dark wood door at the end of the hallway. Allison pushed it open to reveal a modest room with a bed, a desk, and an armoire. It was simple, almost sterile, yet it was hers.
“I’ll leave you to settle in,” Allison said, placing the bag on the bed. She hesitated, her warm brown eyes holding Olivia’s. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. My quarters are just down the hall.”
Olivia managed a small nod, though her throat tightened as Allison left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
The silence was deafening. Slowly, Olivia sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as they brushed the cool silver of her locket. She could almost see Dmitri’s smile, fleeting and fragile in her mind’s eye.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
A sharp knock on the door made her flinch. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rose to her feet, her pulse pounding in her ears.
“Olivia.” Connor’s voice, low and commanding, cut through the silence.
She hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. When she finally opened it, his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, their intensity sending a shiver down her spine.
“Tomorrow, we talk,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Rest tonight.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, his presence lingering like the weight of the mansion itself.
Olivia closed the door slowly, her back pressing against it as she tried to steady her breathing. The chains of her new life were already tightening, but somewhere in the depths of her fear, a tiny spark of resolve flickered.
She wouldn’t let herself be broken. Not again.
