Chapter 179: Chapter 179

Boris stood quietly in Ivan’s study, the silence heavy as the door shut behind Ivan. The room smelled faintly of smoke and old books, the firelight flickering against the carved walls. Ivan entered without a word. His steps were slow, his shoulders weighed down as though the crown on his head was made of iron.

Boris turned to face him. His expression was calm now, though earlier at the table his anger had been hot and sharp. He spoke softly, but the words carried weight.

"Did you really know about her Highness’s pregnancy back then... and chose to ignore it?" Boris asked, his brows furrowed. "Or is there something you are not saying?"

Ivan’s eyes lowered. He said nothing, but his silence was louder than words. His face looked drawn, his eyes clouded with sorrow. Googlᴇ search novel[f]ire.net

Boris’s chest tightened at the sight. He stepped closer, his voice gentler this time. "Your Highness..."

Ivan lifted his gaze, and the sadness there nearly broke Boris. It wasn’t the sadness of a ruler — it was the sadness of a man who had lost something he could never recover.

Boris came closer, his tone softer now. "I am sorry about what I said earlier today," he admitted. "I was angry. But I thought about it. You are not the type to abandon your own child. You even agreed to take responsibility for Lady Orlova, even though you do not love her... even though it was an accident." He shook his head slowly. "So tell me, Your Highness... did you really ignore her letters?"

Ivan’s lips parted. His voice came out low, raw, heavy with regret. "Does it matter, Boris?"

Boris said nothing, watching him.

Ivan turned away for a moment, his hand brushing over the edge of his desk. "I left her," he whispered. "I hurt her. And because of me... our son is dead."

The words struck Boris like a blow. His eyes widened slightly. "You... you didn’t know, did you?"

Ivan’s head tilted downward, shame written across his face. He gave a bitter laugh, a broken one. "Do you know what is worse?" His voice trembled now, heavy with guilt. "Despite all I did to her... despite all the pain I caused... I—" His throat tightened. "I slept with another woman." His voice cracked. "And now... I have no choice, Boris. I know it will hurt her... but I can’t. I can’t abandon that child too."

His words broke apart as though they cost him every piece of strength left inside.

Boris’s eyes softened. He didn’t argue. He didn’t scold. Instead, he stepped forward and placed his hand firmly on Ivan’s shoulder. Then, without hesitation, he pulled him into a hug.

For a moment, Ivan stood frozen, as though unfamiliar with such comfort. Then his hands slowly gripped the back of Boris’s cloak, and he allowed himself to lean into the embrace, the weight of his guilt pressing down between them.

The fire cracked softly, filling the silence that words could not.

Meanwhile, Anna and Katherine had helped Lydia back to her chambers. The corridors were dim. When they entered the room, Lydia sank down on her bed. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen from the storm of tears she had been holding back. She pressed her lips together, struggling not to cry again in front of them.

Anna sat carefully beside her, her voice gentle, almost hesitant. "Your Highness," she said softly, "you... you said that Lady Orlova is not pregnant. How certain are you?"

Lydia lifted her head slowly. Her eyes glistened, but her voice carried quiet strength. "I watched her tonight," she whispered. "She drank four glasses of wine." She gave a bitter laugh through her tears. "And not just tonight. Even on the night of the Sea Light Ball, I noticed she drank plenty. She had five glasses of alcohol, at least. That is not something a pregnant woman would do."

Anna gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Then that means..." She trailed off, her eyes wide in disbelief. "She must be lying to His Highness."

Katherine, who had been standing near the window, folded her arms. Her face was calm, but her eyes flickered with thought. "I do have my suspicions too," she admitted quietly. "But we don’t have concrete evidence yet." She looked at Lydia, her tone steady. "I will look into it."

She then took a step closer, her eyes softening as she regarded Lydia. "But, Your Highness... don’t you think you should tell him? If this is true, he deserves to know."

Lydia’s face crumpled. She shook her head slowly, her voice breaking. "What difference does it make?" she whispered. Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, unstoppable. "He chose to believe her. So what else can I do?"

Her voice cracked, and her hands gripped tightly at the edge of the bed. "Please," she whispered, almost pleading. "I wish to be alone."

Anna and Katherine exchanged a glance, worry in both their eyes. They wanted to argue, to stay, but they could see the exhaustion and despair etched deeply on Lydia’s face. Slowly, reluctantly, they bowed and left the room.

The moment the door closed, Lydia broke.

She buried her face into her hands, her body trembling with sobs. The silence of the room only made her cries louder, echoing in her own ears.

"I never mattered," she whispered brokenly. "Obviously... I never mattered."

Her tears soaked her hands, her chest heaving as though her very soul was tearing apart. The candlelight flickered weakly, casting her shadow against the wall, a lonely figure bent under the weight of a broken heart.

In the dining hall, Tatiana remained alone. The food had gone cold, the room empty except for her presence. She sat still for a long time, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The silence was suffocating, every shadow pressing in on her.

Finally, she rose, her chair scraping softly against the floor. She walked slowly toward the corridor, her head bowed, her thoughts tangled and restless.

The palace was quiet, the rain still falling heavily outside. As she reached the staircase, a sudden pain shot through her stomach.

Tatiana gasped, clutching her abdomen. Her face went pale. She tried to hold it in, tried to steady herself, but the cramp grew sharper, twisting inside her like a knife.

She forced herself to move, walking quickly toward her chambers, her steps uneven. Her breath came fast, her body trembling.

She shut the door behind her, leaning against it for support. Her heart raced in her chest as she stumbled toward her bed. Her hands trembled as she checked herself.

A stain of red in her underwear.

Her body shook as realization struck her. It wasn’t a miscarriage. It wasn’t a child. It was her period. Menstrual blood.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She pressed her hands against her mouth, trying to stifle the sob that tore its way out of her chest.

Her lie — her carefully spun web — was shattering.

She sank down on the floor, trembling, her tears flowing freely now. "No," she whispered to herself. "No, no, no."

Her heart raced with fear, anger, and shame.

And just then, the door opened.