Damian’s words settled over the room like a warning no one understood.
“She can hear what none of you can.”
The guards at the doorway exchanged uneasy glances. Dr. Anton Petrov, the physician who had treated Damian since the poisoning, stood near the window with his leather medical case open. Even he appeared uncertain whether Damian was speaking from fever, pain, or something far more disturbing.
I moved quickly toward the bed.
“Lila, come here.”
My daughter did not turn.
She sat beside the most feared man in Baltimore as if he were simply another lonely patient. Her tiny palm remained pressed against his chest, her cloth rabbit tucked beneath her arm. Damian’s hand covered hers, not forcefully, but almost protectively.
“Mr. Volkov,” I said carefully, “she doesn’t understand where she is.”
Damian’s dark eyes lifted to mine.
“She understands more than anyone in this house.”
His voice was barely above a whisper, yet every guard straightened.
Lila studied his face. Then she raised her free hand and signed slowly.
Your heart is scared.
My throat tightened.
Damian stared at her fingers.
“What did she say?”
I hesitated.
“She said your heart is frightened.”
One of the guards shifted uncomfortably. Men like Damian Volkov were not supposed to be frightened. They made other people afraid. They entered rooms and changed the air. They spoke softly, and powerful men disappeared.
Yet Damian did not become angry.
Instead, his fingers curled around Lila’s hand.
“She’s right.”
The confession was so quiet I wondered if I had imagined it.
Lila reached into the pocket of her yellow raincoat and pulled out her worn cloth rabbit. One ear had been sewn back on twice. The faded blue ribbon around its neck was the last thing her father had given her before he died.
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!”
