Bound by lies Trapped by Desire novel Chapter 80

Chapter 80

Elena’s POV:

I watched him clench his fists, his shoulders tense as though the mere act of standing there was tearing him apart from the inside. His eyes–those devastatingly familiar eyes that once made my knees buckle—were red–rimmed, bloodshot, and tired. Exhausted. Like he hadn’t slept. Or maybe hadn’t even breathed right since last night.

I looked away before I could start feeling anything else. I didn’t want to see him like that. Not now. Not after everything.

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

He got what he wanted.

Right?

He got to break me open. And I let him.

And yet…

“No.”

His voice cut through the thick fog of silence like a blade, low and tense. My eyes widened.

“What?” I blinked at him.

“I said no,” he repeated, firmer this time.

1 couldn’t respond before he was already moving–crossing the space between us in three long, purposeful strides. He grabbed my chin, tilting my face

up to his. His touch was firm, almost possessive, yet still tender–damn him–and his breath was warm against my lips as he leaned in.

His eyes locked with mine, and for a second, I thought he might kiss me. But instead, he said in a voice that was both a threat and a promise, “The contract hasn’t ended. There’s still eleven months to go. You owe me… five times a week.”

I jerked back as though I’d been slapped. My stomach twisted, my pulse roaring in my ears.

I shoved his hand away from me, hard. “Get out. Nikolai.”

His jaw flexed as his hands dropped to his sides. He didn’t move.

“My answer won’t change even if I leave here, Malishka,” he said, his voice low and dark. “You. Owe. Me. You signed the contract.”

I laughed. It was bitter and humorless. “What are you going to do then, sue me if I don’t agree?” I sneered.

And then he said something that made the blood in my veins still completely.

“Of course not, I won’t do anything. I won’t force you,” he said simply, shrugging once. “Because I know the kind of person you are. You willingly signed the contract, Malishka. I know you’re not the kind of person to owe anyone.”

His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t cold. It was something worse–disappointed. Quiet. Knowing.

Then he turned away, walking with slow, deliberate steps toward the door,

And left.

Just like that.

1 stared at //

spot where he’d stood, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

My thoughts were loud. Screaming, Spinning.

What the hell?

That fucking bastard.

That FUCKING bastard.

I hated him.

God, I hated him.

And yet the pain that pooled in my chest had nothing to do with hate. No, what made it so much worse was the betrayal. The heartbreak. The way his pain still mirrored mine and made me feel guilty.

I wanted to punch a wall.

I hated how my body still reacted to him, how my fingers still remembered the warmth of his, how my heart still ached at the way he said my name.

The tray of breakfast clattered as Mom returned from the kitchen, balancing two steaming cups of coffee and a soft smile.

“What’s wrong? Where did Nikolai go?” she asked, setting the tray down, completely oblivious to the earthquake that had just shaken the foundation of my world.

I forced a small smile. “He had work. He left early. Don’t worry about him.”

Mom blinked, surprised. “Oh… I thought he–well, never mind.” She looked at me a moment longer, then sighed.

I didn’t respond. I busied myself unwrapping the bakery bag and setting the croissants on a plate. My hands were trembling slightly.

Should I tell her?

Should I tell Mom about Sergei?

But then I looked at her.

Her face was soft with contentment. She was humming to herself as she stirred cream into her coffee. The lines on her face had faded into something peaceful after weeks.

I didn’t want to ruin that.

Not yet.

God, hadn’t I already hurt her enough?

I’d dragged her through hell once already. Wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t I carry this one burden myself, at least for a little while longer?

We ate breakfast in silence. Me drinking an americano and taking a couple bites of the pastry before feeling completely full.

She took a sip of coffee, then turned to me. “Did you really go to Nikolai’s house last night?”

looked up, startled.

“You both are wearing the same clothes as yesterday.” She gave me a look. “Elena. I know you’re under stress, but as your mother, I owe it to you to say something.”

I sat up straighter.

She reached for my hand across the table, squeezing gently. Her fingers were warm, Familiar.

“In marriage,” she began gently, “ups and downs are normal. As long as your husband isn’t hurting you or making you feel unsafe, sometimes it’s worth it to try a little harder. You don’t just close a marriage when things get hard, sweetheart. It’s not a business or a contract–it’s a bond. One that takes work.”

I swallowed hard.

But it was a contract….

She smiled faintly, eyes glistening a little. “George showed me that. We had some terrible fights… but he always came back. Always chose love. That man… he never stopped loving me. Loving us.”

Tears stung at my eyes, but I blinked them back.

“I don’t know what happened between you and Nikolai. And I won’t push you to share if you’re not ready. But if this is something small, something fixable… don’t be too proud, okay? I know you’re like me in that way.” She winked.

And just like that, my chest cracked open again.

“Thank you,” I whispered hoarsely. “I–I have to get ready. I’ve got class.”

She nodded, standing to take the cups to the sink. “Of course, honey.”

I went upstairs quietly, each step heavier than the last. My brain buzzed with everything I wasn’t saying, everything I should’ve said. But what would i even say?

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