Leonid sat up slightly in the hospital bed, his leg bandaged and elevated.
His face was pale but his eyes still burned with anger.
Adrian stood outside the door, his hands buried in his pockets, pacing impatiently.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Grandfather Volkov entered, leaning on his cane.
Irina followed behind but stopped by the doorway, her expression uneasy.
Adrian frowned.
"Why did you bring her, Grandpa? She doesn't even like my father, and she's Damian's mother."
Grandfather's gaze snapped toward him.
"Enough, Adrian. This isn't the time."
Irina looked down, her fingers twisting nervously.
She didn't say a word as the old man walked past her and inside the room.
The doctor stepped forward, flipping through his chart.
"He's lucky," the doctor said calmly. "The bullet didn't hit any artery. Another inch, and it could've been far worse."
"But he should be able to move his leg on his own in 48 hours " the doctor said and walked out of the room.
Grandfather turned his back, gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles turned white.
His face was hard with disappointment and fury.
"What has gotten into that boy?" he muttered under his breath. "Has he completely lost his mind?"
"How are you feeling, Leonid?" Grandfather asked, his tone stiff but concerned.
Leonid winced slightly and forced a pained sigh.
"In pain… because of your grandson.
I was only trying to talk to him, give him advice on how the company should move forward, and he—he shot me."
Grandfather's brows furrowed. "He shot you for advising him?"
Leonid nodded slowly, feigning weakness.
"Yes, Father. I was only trying to help, but he has no respect left. Damian has changed—he's dangerous."
Adrian stepped forward quickly, eager to add fuel.
"Grandfather, can you see how he is now? He's jealous.
He knows we have the experience to run the company better than him. He can't stand that Father and I are smarter in business."
Leonid groaned softly, placing a hand over his chest like a wounded saint.
"All I wanted was to protect the family company… but Damian thinks he's above us all."
Grandfather's face darkened, his hand tightening on his cane. His voice thundered through the quiet room.
"That boy! After everything I've done for him—he's become reckless, ungrateful, and now violent!"
He turned to one of his men standing near the door.
"Go find Damian. Tell him I want to see him—now!"
"Yes, sir," the man said quickly, hurrying out of the room.
Irina looked up then, her voice trembling.
"Father, maybe… maybe there's more to this. Damian wouldn't just—"
"Enough, Irina," Grandfather snapped without looking at her.
"Your son has gone too far this time."
Adrian smirked slightly from the corner, trying to hide it as he folded his arms.
Leonid leaned back on the bed, pretending to be weak, but there was a faint gleam of triumph in his eyes.
***
Andrei entered the sitting room quietly.
"Miss Elena," he said, bowing slightly, "it's time to leave."
Elena turned from where she sat with Tatiana, a little surprised.
"Did Damian send for me?" she asked.
Andrei shook his head politely. "No, ma'am. I was only told that your time here is up."
Tatiana frowned. "Wow" She hugged Elena tightly.
"Tell Damian that I'm proud of him, alright? And take care of yourself."
Elena smiled faintly and nodded. She followed Andrei out to the car.
When they arrived, the car stopped in front of Damian's grand house.
Elena stepped out, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she entered.
She was about to ask the butler if Damian was home when her eyes caught sight of him.
Standing near the window, his shirt half unbuttoned, a glass of whiskey in hand.
For a moment she forgot how to breathe.
His hair was a little messy, his sleeves rolled up, and the soft light from the chandelier made his sharp jawline stand out even more.
She gathered her courage and walked closer.
"Damian…" she called softly, "did you really… shoot your uncle?"
"How dare you question me about my family," he said in a cold, sharp voice.
"You have no right to ask me that."
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't mean—" she began, but her voice broke.
She turned away quickly, climbing the stairs, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.
She reached the hallway, blinking back tears,
when she heard his deep voice behind her — steady, commanding, the kind that made her whole body still.
"Elena," he said quietly, his tone rough,
" I need you in my room now and make sure your undressed."
She froze at his words.
Then she walked slowly into Damian's room.
Her heart was beating too fast — she didn't even know why she was obeying him.
The room was dimly lit, the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of whiskey.
She stood near the edge of the bed, her hands nervously gripping the sides of her dress.
Moments later, the door opened behind her. Damian walked in, his eyes dark and unreadable.
He stopped when he saw her still wearing her dress. His jaw clenched.
"Don't mess with me, Elena," he said, his voice low and rough.
She turned to him slowly.
"Damian," she whispered, her voice soft — careful, almost pleading.
He took a few steps closer, the space between them shrinking.
"I want you naked now," he said firmly.
Elena froze, her hands trembling slightly.
Then, just as she was about to move, his voice changed — softer, uncertain.
"Stop," he said suddenly.
She looked up, confused.
He wasn't angry anymore. For a long moment, they just stood there in silence.
Then Damian exhaled deeply, his expression softening.
"Sorry," he murmured quietly.
Her eyes widened.
He stepped closer, his hand reaching out gently, resting against her waist.
His touch was warm, careful.
"Come," he said quietly. "I want to show you something."
His grip wasn't rough this time it was tender, almost protective.
Elena followed, her heart fluttering as she wondered what he wanted to show her, and why his voice suddenly carried so much sadness.