Page 96 of His Forced Bride
"Inessa," she whispers when she notices me, and her voice fractures.
"I tried to save the spring collection."
"Don't worry about work now."
I pull a chair close to her bed, set the flowers on her bedside table.
"Focus on getting well."
Rosa hovers at the door, waiting for me, and I feel comforted by the motherly presence.
"Will there be jobs when I heal?"
Her question is valid. Often, when businesses like mine suffer as horribly as mine has, they end up going under.
Which is exactly what I'm sure the Kozlovs hope will happen, just to punish Yuri or stain my father’s legacy.
But I plan to fight back.
I take her uninjured wrist gently.
"There will always be work. We can rebuild."
But her eyes hold no faith, and I understand why.
This attack wasn't random.
It was designed to destroy more than fabric and fixtures.
It was meant to destroy hope, and from the dead quality of her gaze, I can see it worked, at least on her.
It's soul-crushing in its heaviness, but the business will only survive if I do, because someone has to keep pressing forward.
After a short visit with her, I move on.
In the next room, Pyotr sits upright despite broken ribs and burns along his left arm.
He managed my showroom floor, greeting clients and arranging displays with an artist's eye.
Now purple bruises bloom across his chest where debris struck him during the fire.
"Pyotr."
I knock softly on his open door before entering.
"How are you holding up?"
"Inessa…"
His face brightens despite the obvious pain.
"I wasn't expecting you to come."
"Of course I came."
I drag the visitor's chair closer to his bed and sit down, leaning forward so he doesn't have to strain to speak.
"Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning."
