Darkness. Stillness.
Zoya couldn't breathe. Her fingers trembled as they hovered over his chest.
Still.
Lifeless.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her world-the one she barely begun to trust again-had shattered without warning.
And then—
A sharp gasp tore from her throat.
She shot up, eyes wide, sweat beading down her temple. Chest heaving.
She turned—
His side of bed empty.
Her breath caught again.
No, no-please no.
She threw off the blanket, bare feet hitting the cold floor, looking for him.
BATHROOM—EMPTY
BALCONY—EMPTY
HIS STUDY—DARK
HALLWAY—SILENT
She panicked.
4:00 a.m.
Her breathing ragged.
"Kalix?" she called out-no response.
"Kalix?" her voice broke again.
She nearly stumbled when she turned-only to hear-"Zoya?" Kalix emerged from the kitchen, holding a glass of water, blinking at her sight.
She froze.
Kalix (alarmed)
What are you doing up? Barefoot—are you crying?
She didn't speak.
Her feet moved on instinct, launching her into his arms. She clung to him like air, like the only thing that made sense. Her fingers curled into his shirt.
Kalix stood frozen, startled by the sudden affection, then dropped the glass to the counter, holding her back just as tightly.
Kalix (gentler now, whispering)
Hey... what happened?
He pulled away slightly, cupping her face with both hands.
Her cheeks were wet. Her lashes trembled.
Zoya (voice cracking)
First you tell me... where the hell were you? You were attacked yesterday... and now I wake up to an empty bed. It's 4 in the morning, what the hell you were thinking?
Kalix (softly)
I just came for some water.
You're scaring me too, lifeline.
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, quickly brushing him off.
Zoya (muttering)
It was just a nightmare.
She turned to walk away-then after a second, she quietly reached back and grabbed his hand.
No words. No questions.
Just silent fingers laced together.
Kalix tucked her in bed gently, laid beside her. He just pulled her into his arms-firm, warm, grounding. This time, Zoya didn't resist.
She buried her face into his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. She didn't need words. She just needed this—him, his presence, his warmth. The quiet proof that he was there.
Kalix rested his chin atop her head, brushing his lips into her hair with a kiss so soft, it felt like a promise.
Kalix (whispers)
I'm not going anywhere, love. Not today...not ever.
She didn't speak.
But her grip tightened just slightly-as if her heart had finally exhaled.
Kalix pulled the blanket over both of them, their legs tangling like it was instinct. And for the first time in what felt like forever, they fell asleep like that-wrapped in each other's silence.
No more distance. No more cold.
Only the warmth of knowing he was still hers.
EARLY MORNING
The golden light slipped through the curtains, brushing softly against her skin.
Zoya stirred.
Still half-asleep, she reached out-and there he was. Kalix, already awake, lying beside her, watching like he'd been doing it for hours.
His eyes didn't move, not even to blink. Just on her. Like a man memorizing his reason to breathe.
Kalix (soft, low)
Good morning, love.
A beat.
Kalix (teasing, gently)
Someone missed me?
Zoya blinked slowly. Then-without a word-slid into his arms and hugged him tightly, burying her face into his neck.
She muffled against his skin, I haven't forgiven you yet... Mr. Husband.
Kalix chuckled, his hands running gently down her back.
That's alright, princess.
Just don't stop holding me like this.
She didn't respond. Just tightened her grip.
LATER THAT MORNING (IN HALL)
Zoya walks in ahead, phone in hand, clearly still mad. Kalix trailed behind her, calm, casual, like he owns the floor she walks on.
Viktor.(grinning)
"Morning, trouble. Come with me, My lord. I've got a lot to discuss." he extends an arm like an gentleman. Zoya raised a brow, as she was about to hold his arm—
"She is not going anywhere without giving me morning kiss, first. You skipped it. I've been patient. But no more." Zoya turned to him sharply.
"What do you mean by skipped? I never did that." Before she can say anything further. Kalix cups her jaw and presses a slow kiss to her cheek.
Zoya freezes. She blinks. Then without thinking, she storms behind Viktor, her face warm.
She grumbled under her breath, "He's completely lost it." Viktor shaking his head. "Yeah! He should've done that in your room." Zoya smacks him lightly on the back of his head.
She(annoyed and flustered) "Siding with him again?" Kalix
(voice low, smug, watching her retreat)
"Don't worry, love. That guilt will fade once you're back in my arms tonight."
She whirls around, points a sharp finger at him.
"You. Stop it-before I kill you." Ellen walks in with impeccable timing (returning back from her overseas trip). "Whom are you going to kill now?"
Zoya straightens immediately, dropping her hand from pointing at Kalix.
She fumbled, "It's-it's not like what it looked like."
Ellen looked at Kalix and Viktor, why did nobody told me that you were attacked. You were almost stabbed. Why are you walking like nothing happened?
Kalix glanced at zoya, "Because she saved me."
Ellen raising a brow and looking at Zoya, "I saw that, It looked like a lot you launching yourself at a man, twice your size and taking him down like it was nothing."
Viktor (whistle low)
"You saw that, she was cool right?"
Ellen ignoring Viktor's words, "Which brings me to the point. You're not going to work today. End of the story.
Zoya straightening, What? Why?
Ellen replied, "You think I'm letting my son's wife-who just made headlines for saving his life-walk into work while the police are still interrogating the attacker? Not happening." Zoya sharing glances with Kalix and Viktor.
Kalix (softly) "She's stronger than you think Mom. She didn't flinch when a knife was pointed at me. If anyone can handle herself-it's her."
Viktor nodded, "And she's not alone. She got me too. Always."
Kalix looking at Zoya voice low and unwavering. "She's got me more than anyone. In every way that matters."
Zoya meets his eyes briefly. Ellen watches the exchange, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Ellen(sighs, clearly not satisfied) "I don't like it. But you both won't let me stop her, will you?"
(A BEAT)
"Fine. Go. But if anything happens-anything at all,-don't expect me to stay quiet.
VOLKOV MANSION DRIVEWAY
Two sleek black cars stand parked. Both passenger doors open at the same time.
On one side-Kalix, waiting with his hand on the car door, gaze locked on zoya.
On the other-Viktor, leaned coolly against the opposite car, swinging the door open with a cocky smile.
Zoya walks out, calm and composed. Her eyes flick between both men, unreadable. No words. Just footsteps.
Kalix straightens, eyes hopeful.
She moved toward Viktor's car.
Kalix's jaw tenses. He doesn't move.
Viktor gloat. Not yet. Just watches as Zoya slides in silently. He closes the door after her.
Kalix remain still.
She looked at viktor "You're not coming with me either."
Then the window rolls back up. The car pulls away.
Silence.
Viktor's hand is still raised in the air, as if frozen mid-sentence. His smirk has vanished.
Kalix exhales slowly, eyes dark, lips tight.
They both stand there-silent. Burned.
Finally, Viktor speaks, voice lower, not amused.
"She really just-"
Kalix: —made her choice.
They both head to Kalix's car. No words. No eye contact.
They get in, doors shutting in sync.
The car drives off—quiet tension sitting thick between them.
As they reached Volkov HQ, flashbulbs are already firing as Zoya's car glides to a stop outside the building.
Media swarm the entrance-reporters shouting, microphones shoved forward, camera shutters clicking in chaos.
Reporters asking, "Mrs. Volkov! You avoided the media yesterday- when will we get updates on the incident.
She remains seated, still, untouched by the chaos outside.
Then the second car pulls up behind hers.
Doors swing open.
Kalix steps out first-sharp, unreadable. Viktor follows-casual confident. The brothers exchange a glance.
Then Kalix walks to her car and opens the door himself.
Kalix (low, gentle)
"Come on, love." she stepped out slowly, every moment poised and effortless. The noise of the press swells the moment she stands.
She doesn't speak. She walks between them-Kalix to the right , Viktor to the left.
REPORTER 2
"Are you professionally trained? How did you disarmed a man twice your size?" REPORTER 3
"Mr. and Mrs. Volkov-why separate cars? Is something going on?"
REPORTER 4
"Are you being targeted? What's the motive behing the attack?" They remain silent-until one young voice pierces through.
YOUNG REPORTER
"Mrs. Volkov-how did it feel when the attacker lunged at your husband? And if it happens again-what will you do?" zoya stops mid-step.
Jaw tight. Back straight. That switch flips.
She turned slightly, eyes zeroed in on the source.
Zoya
"Do you want to feel how it felt?" Gasps ripple through the crowd.
"Because if you do- I can make that happen." The reporter shrinks back.
Kalix is there in a breath, wrapping a hand around her waist.
Kalix
(low, calming)
"That's enough, love."
Viktor (to himself, smirking coldly)
"They messed with a wrong person." The trio-Kalix, Viktor, Zoya-step inside together.
INSIDE THE CONFRENCE ROOM
The boardroom buzzes with tension.
Whispers, nervous energy, and media leaks hang in the air.
The large doors open.
Kalix Volkov walks in first, calm untouchable-he takes the centre seat at the head of the table. It's the chair of command, of control. His cold gaze silences the room immediately.
To his right, Viktor Volkov takes his seat. Laid-back but alert, danger laced under that signature smirk.
To Kalix's left, Zoya Voklov strides in like storm in heels. No smiles. She sits, spine straight, presence lethal.
BOARD MEMBER
(tentatively clearing throat)
"Mrs. Volkov has been in the headlines quite a lot since the marriage. Her... boldness is being questioned."
Kalix(voice sharp, lethal calm)
"If anyone here has a problem with my wife, feel free to resign-before I terminate your contract myself." Dead silence.
The weight of Kalix's words still lingered in the air like smoke.
Then someone from the PR team, a senior member with a nerve of steel, finally cleared his throat and spoke.
"Let's get straight to it." He played the clip from day before yesterday's attack.
"The footage of attack is everywhere, we've managed to pull down over half the posts, but it's already out there. It'd viral. Every new agency, blog, influencer-they're eating it up.
The other PR staff stated, "While the attack is the central focus... It's Mrs. Volkov who's making the news. The way she took down the attacker... and her response to the reporter this morning- it's all over social media.
(there's a beat. Silence stretches.)
Zoya ( softly, almost absently.)
"What was I supposed to do...? he provoked me... with the name of the person I love." (Her voice isn't loud, but the weight of their words crashes into the room like a storm. She doesn't realise that what she just said. Not yet.)
Viktor slowly turns toward her, blinking jaw slightly open.
He leaned toward Klaix. "Wait... was that a confession?" Kalix completely syill. His eyes fixed on her. His hand unconsciously rises to his chest-as if holding onto the words she just said, like they might slip away if he doesn't.
She glanced at him for a second, and looked away, back into her thoughts.
Kalix quickly adjusted his posture, clearing his throat, pulling himself back to control.
The in his calm and sharp tone, "Take care of it. Take down everything we can." And then in his colder voice, eyes locked onto the room. "And sue every last one of them who tries to drag her name through the dirt."
Then in a calm voice, what's next?
STAFF MEMBER:
"Sir... This isn't serious on the agenda, but... there is something going viral across platforms, public polls, memes, discussions." (He clears his throat nervously.) "Your title as Russia's most feared and powerful figure... It's kind of... shifted." (A murmur passes through the room. Kalix doesn't react immediately. But Viktor leans forward, brows raised.)
Viktor (dead serious, half amused)
"Who the hell dared to take my brother's title?" (The staff member gulps, clicks the remote, and the massive screen behind them lights up with a massive poll graphics.)
POLL TITLE:
Top results: Zoya Volkov- 78%
Second: Kalix Volkov- 17%
Trending Hashtags: #QueenVolkov #NewPower #TryHerTryDeath #BeautyDisguisedAsAWeapon.
The staff simply towards Zoya.
Zoya didn't even blink, doesn't flinch, her expressions calm and unreadable, but everyone knows she heard.
Kalix after a beat, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"It didn't get taken."
(He leans back, gaze locked on Zoya)
"It went to the women I belong to." Viktor, "Well... that's fair." OTHER MEMBER
"Apologies, but... the separate arrival in different cars sparked speculation. People are questioning your marriage." Zoya turns her head to Kalix and Viktor, eyes sharp as steel.
Not a word leaves her lips-just that glare. Cold. Unforgiving. Deadly.
Kalix straightens, jaw tightening. Viktor goes still, lips pressed into thin line.
Neither spoke, neither dared.
As she looked away, their shoulder loosened, ever so slightly. Kalix exhaled a breath he didn't k
now he was holding. Viktor shook his head, tension clinging to him like a cold sweat.
Kalix, in his cold voice. "We don't owe anyone a synchronized entrance to prove our relationship." Next?
As the meeting droned on, filled with rapid-fire updates and PR strategies, Zoya remained eerily quiet.
Not distracted.
Not zoned out.
Just-elsewhere.
Her eyes were fixed ahead, posture still perfect. But Kalix seated next to her, could feel it-something was off.
She hadn't spoken a word since the media poll, nor reacted to the screen lit with hashtags.
He shifted slightly in his seat. Under the table, his foot gently nudged her. Once. Then again.
She finally turned, just a little.
Her eyes met his. He leaned back slightly, glanced her way. He raised his brows slightly-'What's wrong?' written clearly across his face.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Nothing much." Her expression said it without a single word. Calm. Collected. Icy.
But when she turned her face away again, she felt it-his gaze burning on her skin.
Then, her foot moved.
Under the table, slow.
Deliberate.
She slid the tip of her heel up the side of his calf, teasing his suit pants like it was silk on silk. Not once. Not rushed. A long, slow stroke that left a trail of heat.
Kalix's breath hitched, his hands tightening the armrest as if that could keep him grounded.
She didn't glance at him.
But he could feel her.
Feel her smirk in the air between them. Feel the thrill of her teasing control.
Her heels paused, and only then she look at him.
Eyes locking with his. That unreadable, heavy-lashed gaze that held secrets and war.
No smile. No smirk.
Just a faint tilt of her chin, and her lips parted softly-sending him a barely-there flying kiss. No one else noticed. But it landed straight on him like a spark of gasoline.
He stared at her trying not to loose it.
She turned away, expressions calm, unfazed. The contact was feather light, but message behind it was sharp: I know you're watching. So here. Have this. And burn.
Kalix's pulse kicked so violently he had to shift in his seat, one hand reaching for his water like that would somehow cool what she'd just set ablaze inside him.