CHAPTER 64

SOPHIA’S POV

I sat by the wide, arching window of the massive bedroom, watching the estate beyond. The sky above Moscow was draped in thick, silver clouds, casting a cold, pale light across the manicured garden that sprawled outside. It was beautiful in a haunting way—a place carved out of perfection, yet sterile in its silence. The garden looked more like a painting than something real, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and tall cypress trees lining the curved stone paths. It was so vast, I couldn’t even see the edge of the estate. For all I knew, this mansion could be the only structure for miles.

Below, I could see the staff at work—maids in pristine uniforms moved with practiced grace, and gardeners, dressed in dark coats and gloves, pruned and shaped the hedges like it was sacred work. Everything here had an eerie harmony, like a symphony playing just for him.

Just then, the heavy door creaked open. I turned, already knowing who it was. Aleksandr.