The drive to Volkov's mansion felt like a breath of clean air. Elena held her stomach gently as the chauffeur opened the door for her. Andrei followed her inside but stayed near the entrance, giving her space.
The butler bowed and led her through the hallway. The mansion smelled like fresh roses and warm vanilla—so different from the cold tension at Damian's home.
"Madam Elena, this way," the butler said softly.
He guided her to a wide glass door and opened it.
It was the wine room—large, golden, filled with soft lights and rich velvet chairs.
Irina turned immediately when she heard footsteps.
Her face brightened.
"Elena!" she exclaimed, hurrying toward her with open arms.
Elena almost melted into the hug. Irina's embrace was warm, motherly—something she didn't even know she needed until that moment.
"My dear, sit, sit," Irina said, guiding her to a plush chair. "You look tired. Are you hungry? I'll ask the chef to make something for you."
"I'm fine," Elena said softly.
