Damian Volkov had fired every nurse who dared enter his room, and the entire mansion had learned to fear the dying mafia boss behind the forbidden door
She placed the rabbit beside Damian’s hand.
Whenever she sensed fear, she shared Bunny.
Damian looked at the toy for a long moment.
Then a tear slipped down the side of his face.
The guards froze.
Dr. Petrov lowered his gaze.
“No one has given me anything without wanting something in return,” Damian said.
His voice broke slightly on the final word.
A strange ache opened inside me. For months, I had heard terrible stories about him. Men said Damian Volkov had built his empire from blood and iron. They claimed he could identify a liar before the lie was finished. They said betrayal was the only sin he never forgave.
But in that moment, he did not look ruthless.
He looked exhausted.
He looked alone.
Then hurried footsteps thundered through the corridor.
A young laboratory assistant rushed into the room, clutching a folder against his chest.
“Dr. Petrov,” he gasped. “The second toxicology results arrived.”
Dr. Petrov took the folder. His expression changed as he scanned the pages.
Damian noticed.
“What?”
The doctor swallowed.
“The original test showed traces of aconitine in your blood. We assumed you received one dangerous dose in the wine.”
“That is what you told me.”
“We were wrong.”
The room became painfully still.
Dr. Petrov lifted his eyes.
“The concentration is too stable. Someone has been giving you smaller doses repeatedly. Perhaps for weeks. Maybe months.”
My blood chilled.
Damian’s hand tightened around the cloth rabbit.
“Through what?”
“Food. Medicine. Tea. Anything you consume regularly.”
Every face in the room changed.
The guards looked at one another.
The doctor glanced toward the medicine tray.
I stared at the silver breakfast cart near the wall.
Someone inside Grayhaven House had been poisoning Damian slowly.
Someone close enough to enter his room.
Someone trusted enough to touch what he ate.
Damian’s fear disappeared.
Something colder replaced it.
“Seal the mansion.”
His voice was weak, but the command struck like a gunshot.
The senior guard, Viktor Orlov, stepped forward.
“No one leaves?”
“No one.”
“What about the staff arriving for the afternoon shift?”
“Turn them away. Lock every gate. Collect every phone.”
Viktor nodded and moved immediately.
Damian looked toward Dr. Petrov.
“Test every bottle, every medicine, every plate.”
Then his gaze shifted to me.
“And the woman and child stay here.”
My heart lurched.
“I have nothing to do with this.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you brought your daughter into a house you feared because you had nowhere else to leave her. I know you apologized before defending yourself. And I know she touched my chest before anyone told her I was sick.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Until I understand what she felt, neither of you leaves my sight.”
I pulled Lila close.
“She is four years old.”
“And someone in this mansion is trying to kill me.”
“That has nothing to do with her.”
Damian’s expression softened for only a second.
“It may have everything to do with her.”
Before I could demand an explanation, he suddenly gasped.
His body jerked against the pillows.
The heart monitor beside the bed shrieked.
Dr. Petrov rushed forward.
“Everyone out!”
Damian’s back arched as his fingers clawed at the sheets. Lila clung to me, terrified by the movement she could feel though she could not hear the alarm.
“His rhythm is unstable,” the doctor shouted. “Bring the emergency kit!”
Two guards ran into the hall.
I lifted Lila and stepped away, but she fought against my arms.
