Chapter 218: The Gift To The Devil
Olga was in her room. The night was quiet, the palace hallways dim, the air carrying the faint smell of burning oil from the lamps. She sat in front of her mirror, her long black hair falling smooth and heavy as she brushed it slowly. The brush moved through her strands with care, each stroke neat, each sound soft. Her robe was deep blue silk, tied gently at her waist.
She looked at herself in the mirror, her lips curved in a small satisfied smile. Everything about her was calm, polished, controlled. Yet beneath that calmness was a sharpness, a cruelty that lived in her eyes.
She was just about to set the brush aside, ready to blow out her candles and rest, when a knock came at her door.
"Come in," she said, her voice smooth.
The door opened, and Pavel stepped inside. He bowed low, his tone careful. "Your Majesty, the Grand Duke has returned."
At those words, Olga’s lips lifted into a slow smirk. Her dark eyes gleamed with something wicked.
"He took long enough," she murmured. Her voice carried amusement but also venom, as if she had been waiting for this moment like a predator waits for its prey.
She stood and moved to her drawer. From within, she pulled out a small parcel wrapped neatly. She held it in her hand for a long moment, staring at it with satisfaction.
"I have a perfect gift for my dear stepson," she said softly to herself, her smile curling cruelly.
---
Meanwhile, Ivan was walking through the palace halls. His steps were heavy, his body exhausted, his mind burdened. The night weighed on him like a chain. His face was pale from fatigue, his shoulders stiff from everything that had happened. He wanted nothing more than to reach his chambers, or perhaps the Grand Duchess’s quarters where he could try, in silence, to check on Lydia.
His boots echoed faintly against the stone floor, and the lamps on the walls cast long shadows that followed him like ghosts. He did not hear much, did not feel much, only the tired ache in his chest.
But then, suddenly, someone stepped into his path.
Olga.
She stood before him with her blue robe flowing softly around her, her hair shining in the light. Her eyes were sharp, her lips already curved in a smirk.
Ivan’s eyes moved to her, but he said nothing. He had no energy for her games. His face was blank, his body tense, but he did not speak. He walked past her, brushing by as if she were nothing more than an obstacle in his way.
But Olga’s voice cut through the silence.
"I have a gift for you," she said smoothly. "A very, very special gift."
Ivan’s steps slowed, though he did not stop. His head turned slightly, but his face remained unreadable.
Olga lifted the parcel slowly, holding it in her hands as though it were some treasure. Her smile widened.
"I believe this is what you’ve always wanted the most," she continued. Her tone was mocking, every word sharp. "The evidence of Alexander Andreyevna working with the Venograd army. The evidence of the Andreyevna family’s treachery. It’s all yours now."
Ivan froze in place. His back stiffened, his body suddenly heavy. Slowly, very slowly, he turned to face her.
Her smile grew even crueler as she saw the change in his eyes.
"It’s funny, isn’t it?" she said, her voice low and taunting. "How you destroyed the woman you loved... just because of this."
Her words pierced like knives. Ivan said nothing. His silence only encouraged her.
"Well," she went on, tilting her head, "not that you planned it this way. All you wanted was to protect her. Isn’t that right? Poor Alexander, after I teased him about treachery, he ran to you. Begged you. Pleaded for your help. And you, the noble Grand Duke, you listened. You divorced Lydia. You tore her life apart. All because of a single piece of paper from a ledger."
Ivan’s face remained still, but his chest tightened with pain.
Olga’s voice grew sharper. "That ledger could have gotten the entire Andreyevna family killed, so you chose to sacrifice her. You thought you were saving her. But what did you do instead? You destroyed her. You destroyed the woman you swore to protect."
Her eyes sparkled cruelly. "And not just her. You even destroyed your own child. Your flesh. Your blood. Gone because of you."
Ivan’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. His throat was tight, his heart pounding, yet he remained silent.
Olga leaned closer, her voice lowering, her smile twisting. "Do you know what the best part is? I always wanted to make you suffer. That was my goal. But you... you did it to yourself. You gave me nothing to do. You broke yourself."
She laughed softly, bitterly.
She held out the parcel, her hand steady. "Here," she said. "Take it. Keep it. Or burn it. It doesn’t matter anymore. From the look in Lydia’s eyes, she will never forgive you. She will hate you until her last day. That is more satisfying than anything I could ever do."
Ivan’s jaw tightened. His eyes darkened, but still he said nothing.
Olga’s smile faded into something colder, more hateful. Her voice dripped with venom.
"Just like your mother took everything from me, I will take everything from you. I will make sure you suffer, just like I did."
Ivan stood motionless, his silence pressing heavily between them.
Olga’s smirk faltered. His lack of reaction irritated her. She wanted to see him break. She wanted to see him fall. Yet he stood there like a statue, his pain locked deep inside, refusing to give her satisfaction.
Her eyes narrowed. She let out a sharp breath, then tilted her head, her tone turning mocking again.
"You are headed to the Grand Duchess’s quarters, aren’t you?" she asked, her smile thin. "That’s good. Because I wonder if she’s... alright."
Ivan’s eyes flicked to her sharply. For the first time, a word left his lips.
"What?"
Olga lifted her brows, feigning innocence. "Nothing really. It’s just... your precious wife collapsed earlier today. Just after the trial." She tilted her head, her tone thoughtful. "But you weren’t there, were you? Nowhere to be seen."
She paused, her voice turning cruel. "I wonder if she’s okay."
At once, Ivan’s body filled with panic. His chest tightened, his breath quickened. His heart pounded in his ears. Without another word, he turned and ran down the hall. His boots hit the floor hard, his steps fast and desperate. He needed to see her. He needed to know she was alright.
Behind him, Olga stood in the corridor, watching his figure disappear. Her eyes hardened, her lips twisting bitterly. The satisfaction in her gaze was sharp, but beneath it burned a deep hatred that nothing could ever wash away.