Page 21 of Forced Pregnant Bride

While I would have loved to help a dying patient, there had to be another way.

My heart raced, pounding so loud that I could hear it echoing in the empty room, almost drowning out my thoughts.

I pressed a trembling hand over my mouth, trying to quiet the fearful whimpers that slipped through, but it was no use. I couldn’t shake the memory of the ice in his voice and broad shoulders or how dark he looked when he said those words, words that now haunted me like a curse.

“I own you now. You’re stuck with me for good.”

That phrase echoed over and over in my mind, wrapping around my thoughts like chains, binding me to fear. No matter how much I wanted to sleep, to escape even briefly into the quiet refuge of dreams, those words chased away any hint of rest. Every time my eyes began to close, they’d flash open again, wide and filled with the images of all the horrific possibilities that his promise implied. Sometimes, I didn’t know how long I lay there, trapped in that endless loop of fear, helplessness, and the suffocating dread that made sleep feel like an impossible luxury.

I was sitting by the window when a gentle knock came at the door. My heart skipped slightly. It wasn’t unusual to hear a knock around that time; typically, it was just the maid bringing up breakfast or fresh towels. But this knock was different—heavier, more calculated.

“Yes? Come in.”

The door creaked open, and an unfamiliar maid stood there. She wasn’t like the others; she had an air of experience, with silver strands threaded through her tight bun and a gaze sharp enough to command a room.

Looking at me intently, she offered a simple introduction: “I am Klavdia.” Her voice was low and calm, as if she were used to carrying secrets.

That was it. No, “What’s your name?” or anything else followed after. I nodded, unsure of what else to do, more out of reflex than anything, taken slightly aback.

Her eyes scanned the room briefly before she turned over her shoulder and called out, “Hurry up.”

I looked over my shoulder, particularly at the door where she poked her head through. This had to top the chart of another strange encounter I’d experienced. An older woman walked into my room and asked invisible people to hurry up.

Before I reacted, brief moments later, two more maids slipped into the room, almost soundlessly, like shadows gliding over the floor. They were each gripping the edge of a long, pristine white cloth, their steps careful and reverent. It took me a moment to process what I was seeing, but as the fabric unfurled, a stunning dress took shape.

A wedding dress.

I felt my breath hitch.

There it was, resting in their hands like a secret too big to be kept. Layers of delicate lace cascaded down the cloth, catching the light from the window and reflecting it in a soft, fairytale glow.

Klavdia handed me the dress, her gaze stern yet filled with an odd warmth. “Try it on,” she said, her voice brooking no argument. I hesitated, glancing at the folds of the fabric. The dress looked…expensive. Almost ceremonial, but that made no sense.

There was no way it was for me. No way.

A saw or experimental table would have been more like it, not a wedding dress.

“Why?” I asked, searching her face for clues.

Her lips tightened, and for a moment, she almost looked pained. Then, with the firmness of someone delivering a final verdict, she said in the thickest Russian accent I’d ever heard, “Because Mister Yezhov is marrying you.”

The words hung in the air, twisting around me until I barely recognized where I was.

Marrying me?

My head shook on its own, a reflex of sheer disbelief. I couldn’t have heard that. She’d probably said something else.

I blurted, my voice sounding smaller than it ever had, “You can’t be serious, ma’am—”

“Klavdia. That is my name.”

“Klav—look….” At the moment, I didn’t even have the patience to get her name out. My ears were ringing with the wordmarriage. “What do you mean, marrying me? How is that even possible?”

Mister Yezhov.Timur Yezhov.A man whose shadow seemed to swallow up light, whose eyes held more threat than kindness, was to be my husband?

“No,” I said louder, gathering what was left of my voice. “I can’t marry him. I won’t marry a monster.”

At my outburst, Klavdia’s expression shifted. Quicker than I could blink, she motioned to the other maids in the room, dismissing them with a subtle wave of her hand. I could hear their soft footfalls and whispers as they scurried out, the door clicking shut with an ominous finality.

---