Page 53 of Forced Pregnant Bride

“Oops.”

Grinning sheepishly, I tried another one. This time, it smoothly rolled out, revealing three big black books with hardcovers. I picked one up, turning it to the sides for closer inspection. When a colored square paper slipped out of it, I realized it wasn’t just any book but a photo album.

Picking the paper from the floor, I suppressed a gasp. Finding a photo album of anything in Timur Yezhov’s housewasa big deal, especially when he had a photograph on the front page.

I backed away from the dresser, scooting closer toward the edge of the bed, eager to see more inside. I’d barely wiped off all the dust from the edge of the bedframe when the creaking of the door and sudden movement startled me. Accidentally, I’d dropped the album to calm my racing heart.

“Oh, my God! Klavdia!”

“Mrs. Yezhov.” She crossed the room, her eyes narrowing at the black book now sunk in dusty sheets. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve already told you to call me Serena.”

Her eyes narrowed even more, if it was possible, and she completely ignored my statement. “You’re not supposed to be here.” As always, she wore her stern face, with her head held high in a sleek bun, not a hair out of place. Guardedly, she smoothened a crease on her skirt, straightening as she picked the album up from the bed and waved a disapproving hand at me. “The master would be upset if he finds out you were here.”

Like any normal person, Klavdia had her days when she’d be more annoying than usual, and today was probably one of them. While I had the option of muttering a curt, half-hearted apology and returning to the master bedroom, my curiosity and fanned desire to delve deeper into Timur’s past forced my chin up defiantly.

“The master in question ismyhusband, and he has never forbidden me from doing anything or going anywhere in this house. As you have clearly noticed, I am his wife, not his prisoner. So, you will hand me that book right now and not say a word to him about my coming here.”

“Mrs.—”

“Right now, Klavdia. And you will call me Serena.”

There was a moment of hesitation before she reluctantly handed me the album with a heavy sigh. I wasn’t sure what the sigh was for; my head was still spinning in the euphoria of the brief but triumphant moment. I’d never before had to exert thatmuch intimidation or authority to get anything in the house. As far as I was concerned, that was my husband’s role. Now, I’d done it, and though a tiny part of me felt awful for speaking roughly to the woman, who was old enough to be my mother, I was satisfied.

She knotted her fingers together and cleared her throat, staring at me with a sober expression I’d never seen on her before; her gaze flickered to the book and back to my face. “There is a reason this room is isolated.”

Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair. I shouldn’t have been mad at her for just doing her job. “I guessed that much.” I raised the album. “He doesn’t talk about it, about anything. And it’s not…. I mean, I’m not complaining or anything, but he knows more about me than I do about him. Sometimes, it’ll be nice to know I’m married to an actual person and not someone who could have been carved out of stone, for all we know.”

Klavdia surprised me with a chuckle, as hoarse and unfamiliar as it was. “Go on, open it.”

My eyes lingered on the book, and my heart swelled with anticipation. “You’re sure?”

“No.” She shook her head, a small smile dancing on her lips. “You’re not sure, either, but you’re going to open it either way.”

She was right. Mingled in that anticipation and curiosity was a tiny mix of fear at what I might discover hidden in those memories. It thrilled and terrified me at the same time, but I was going to open it either way.

Sucking in air through clenched teeth, I sat on the foot of the bed and steadied my fingers between the pages of the album.

“Here goes….”

And I opened it.

My eyes widened, and my jaw hung agape in shock. Although pictures of young Timur were plastered on every page, he looked different, more like the actual person I wanted to know. He was bubbling with cheesy smiles, life in his eyes, and so much hair on his head—a sharp contrast with the muscled man I knew today.

“I don’t—I don’t believe it.”

Klavdia’s voice floated around me, filling the spaces of silence as I flipped the pages. “The master would never talk about it, about his past, because it is the one thing he wants buried the most. At least, the part after his childhood was taken away from him.”

Startled, my eyes snapped to hers. “What?”

The smile on her lips was long gone, now replaced with a frown that expressed more than her words were willing to let on. “I’ve worked long enough for this family to know that you would be wasting your precious time if you ever expect him to engage you in a heart-to-heart talk about his family. When he was younger, he was lively, playful, human. He, his brother, Rafayel, and their cousins never hesitated to be adorable little rascals. That was until their father thought they’d had enough of being young and eager to explore the world. I’m sorry to use such colorful language to describe a man who was my employer, but…that man was an animal, a cruel bastard that deserved to rot in the depths of hell for the trauma and pains he put his sons through.”

Unable to concentrate on the photos any longer, I closed the book. My heart was heavy, and I’d not even heard the full story yet, but I’d taught children, raised them, and loved them like they were my own. The thought of causing any one of them harm made a wave of nausea wash over me, and the look of disgust on the old maid’s face as she spoke about Timur’s father left my imagination running wild in the worst possible ways.

“Did he….” I swallowed, barely able to find my voice, and when I did, it was merely a whisper. “Did he physically hurt them?”

“Hurt them?” Klavdia’s laughter was harsh, biting, and regretful. “That man destroyed what was left of their souls. He broke them, shattered their hearts to pieces to make sure they’d grow up without one. Most days, when he’d be raving mad in the house, looking for an outlet to vent, he’d pounce on Rafa, the younger one, but Timur would try to fight him off, offering to take the blows and beatings instead. One of those horrible days, during a heavy rainstorm, he had his men drag Timur to the old study in the house where he took care of his captives.”

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