The Bride Of The Devil-Chapter 57: Haunted Winter Night

The snow crunched softly beneath Alexander’s boots as he walked across the grounds of the estate. The cold bit into his face, but he hardly noticed it. His hands were clenched in fists. His chest rose and fell with angry breaths.

The scarred man stood a few feet away, almost blending into the snowy trees. His dark cloak fluttered in the wind, and the long scar that ran down his face looked even harsher under the moonlight.

Alexander stopped a few steps from him.

"What are you doing here?" Alexander asked sharply, his voice cold with fury. "What gives you the right to come here?"

The man tilted his head slightly, as if amused. His eyes glinted.

"I have kept my own end of the bargain," Alexander went on, his voice rising. "I stayed out of your path. I let you do whatever filth you were doing. So why can’t you do the same?"

The man smiled, calm and unbothered. "Calm down, Lord Andreyevna," he said, his voice smooth and almost mocking. "I just came to pay a visit to my friend and business partner."

Alexander scoffed loudly. "Friend? Business partner? You and I are not even close to that," he spat. "You’re nothing but a thorn in the flesh. Always showing up where you’re not wanted."

The man gave a soft chuckle and stepped a little closer, his boots leaving deep prints in the snow.

"What is it with you Andreyevnas and your sharp tongues?" the man said. "I didn’t come for you, Alexei. I came for your blonde niece."

Alexander stiffened.

He didn’t say anything, but the man noticed the way his eyes flickered.

The man smiled again.

Alexander’s voice dropped low. "The girl is not here," he said coldly. "She’s gone."

The man raised one brow. "Gone? What do you mean by that?"

"She’s married now," Alexander said, every word slow and clear. "She’s in her husband’s house. Far from here."

The man was quiet for a moment. Then he gave a small nod, as if that answer pleased him. "Well then," he said lightly, brushing some snow from his cloak. "If she comes visiting, send my regards."

With that, he turned and walked away slowly, boots pressing into the snow like fading echoes of the past.

Alexander stood there long after the man had disappeared into the night.

He was trembling.

Not just from the cold.

But from fear.

From anger.

And from the heavy dread building inside him like a storm about to break.

---

Far away, at the northern estate, the sky was still dark. Dawn was only just beginning to touch the horizon with a pale golden glow.

Ivan opened his eyes.

He didn’t move.

For a long time, he just stared at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell quietly. Lydia was still asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, her breathing soft and steady.

She looked peaceful now.

So fragile.

So breakable.

He turned his head slowly to look at her.

His heart ached.

It felt like this moment wouldn’t last. Like something would come and take it all away.

He watched her like it was the last time.

Carefully, gently, he lifted her head and placed her pillow back underneath. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake up.

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked back at her once more. Her hand was resting on the blanket, open, relaxed.

He wanted to touch it.

He didn’t.

Instead, he stood up and walked out quietly.

---

The hallway was quiet, only the distant sound of birds beginning to chirp outside.

Ivan walked straight to his study. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was spotless.

Too clean.

No sign of what had happened there just a day ago.

No blood.

No body.

The fire was lit. The air was warm.

And in front of the window stood Nikolai.

He was watching the early sunrise, arms folded behind his back.

He didn’t turn around when Ivan entered.

"I thought we agreed," Nikolai said calmly, "that you wouldn’t be reckless anymore."

Ivan didn’t answer.

Nikolai turned then and looked at him. His face was serious, but not angry. Just tired. Like a man who had seen too much.

"Why did you kill the village head?"

Ivan said nothing. He walked over to his desk and picked up a letter, pretending to read it.

"I’m asking you a question, Your Highness," Nikolai said. "Do you even know what this means? The Czar won’t be pleased."

Still, Ivan said nothing.

Nikolai let out a deep sigh. "I didn’t train you to turn into this," he said. "I trained you so you could protect yourself. That was the whole point. That’s what I promised your mother."

Those words cut deep.

Ivan looked up sharply. His eyes were burning.

"My mother is dead," he said, voice low and trembling. "She has been for the last twenty years. Don’t speak like you did something noble."

"I did it for her," Nikolai said firmly. "I gave you everything I had. I taught you how to survive."

Ivan laughed bitterly, his face twisting in pain. "Survive?" he said. "Where were you when I needed protection? When she did that to me? When I was locked in that place—where were you?"

His voice cracked.

His eyes were glassy.

"I was a child," Ivan whispered. "And you weren’t there."

Nikolai opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Ivan’s fists were clenched.

"If you want to protect me," he said slowly, "you can shove that protection down your throat. I don’t need it now. I never needed it."

Silence.

Only the crackling of the fire between them.

Nikolai looked away. His jaw was tight.

"I’m sorry," he said at last.

Ivan didn’t respond.

He turned back to the window and stared at the light creeping over the trees.

Behind his quiet posture, his heart was storming.

He felt like he was falling into a place he couldn’t crawl out from.

He wanted to run.

He wanted to scream.

But all he could do... was stand there.

Wishing he could forget.

Just like her.

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