CHAPTER 96: LOVED BY THE DEVIL

Ivan and Lydia lay quietly on the large bed in Ivan’s chambers. The sun outside was slowly sinking, casting golden light through the frosted windows. Snowflakes drifted past the glass, gentle and slow. The room was warm, but their silence held a heaviness neither of them wanted to break just yet.

Lydia lay in his arms, her head resting gently on his chest. Her fingers moved slowly across his back, patting softly in a steady rhythm. Ivan said nothing. His arms were wrapped around her tightly, as though letting go even for a second would make her disappear. His eyes weren’t crying anymore, but the pain hadn’t left. It was still there, sitting behind his gaze, quietly screaming.

The fire crackled faintly in the hearth, but even that sound felt distant. The weight between them pressed like snow on branches, silent and heavy.

Lydia looked up into his eyes, her hand moving to stroke his hair gently. She could feel how tense he was. Like he wanted to speak, to finally let the weight fall off his chest. But the words wouldn’t come. His lips trembled slightly, his breath shaky.

"You don’t have to tell me now," Lydia whispered. "If it hurts too much, you don’t have to." She held him closer, her voice calm and soothing.

But Ivan finally spoke. His voice was low, filled with pain. "All my life... all I used to think was that maybe I deserved it. Maybe I was born to be hated. I used to ask myself... what did I do wrong? I was never stubborn. Never troublesome. I tried to be quiet, to be good. But still... she hated me."

Lydia listened, her heart breaking with every word.

"It started one afternoon," he continued. "I was in the middle of a piano lesson. I remember the keys under my fingers. I didn’t even do anything. She just came in and dragged me by the arm. She locked me in that room... for hours. No light. No food. Nothing. I thought it was a mistake. But it kept happening."

He swallowed hard. "I tried to tell my father. He just looked at me. Said I must have done something. He didn’t care. None of them did. Everyone knew. Everyone saw. But no one said anything. Not even the maids. They looked away."

Lydia’s hand moved to his cheek. She could feel how cold his skin was, even now.

Ivan’s voice grew lower, more hollow. "To him, I was just a reminder. A mistake he didn’t want to see. He never raised a hand to me, never yelled... but he was never there either. And that’s worse. It’s like I didn’t exist. Like I was invisible. Or worse—something to be ashamed of."

He paused. "He only ever showed up when he had to. Events. Ceremonies. Then he’d disappear again. And I used to watch him leave like I didn’t matter."

His eyes drifted to the ceiling. "I don’t think he hates me. But he doesn’t love me either. Not the way a father should. He sees me as a stain on his name."

"Katherine... she was the first to ever speak up for me," Ivan said bitterly. "I thought she cared. But no... she was working for my stepmother. A spy. She was just pretending. Trying to get close to me because of my stepmother."

He shook his head. "Years passed. I thought I could take it. I stayed quiet. I thought if I behaved, maybe it would stop. But it didn’t. One day, I snapped. The Czar, my grandfather, was in Svetlana. She tried to lock me up again and I bit her. Ran to him, crying, begging. You know what he did?"

Lydia was already crying, but she asked anyway. "What did he do?"

"He beat me. He said I was filth. That I didn’t deserve to carry their name. That I was a mistake." Ivan’s voice cracked. "And not long after that, he sent me to Velinsk. Hoping I’d die. That the battlefield would finish me off."

He closed his eyes. "Then I met Ruslan. And for the first time, I thought maybe I had a friend. Someone who saw me. Understood me. I was wrong. I was a fool."

He looked at Lydia. "I’m sorry. For everything. Because of me, Ruslan lived. And he killed your parents. He brought you pain. And now again... I left you here. I almost lost you. All because of me."

Lydia shook her head firmly, her voice soft but sure. "It’s not your fault. Ivan, it was never your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. I’m okay now. Because you came back to me."

He held her tighter and kissed her forehead, his voice trembling. "I was scared. I thought I’d lost you forever."

"Me too," Lydia whispered.

He looked into her eyes. "You are all I have, Lydia."

She nodded gently. "I am."

"Because I know you’d never hurt me. You’re the only one I trust. The only one I love," Ivan said, his voice cracking.

He kissed her softly. Then again. "I love you, Lydia."

She kissed him back, her heart aching. She had always wanted him to open up to her. To share his pain. And now he finally had. But instead of feeling comfort, Lydia felt guilt.

Because she hadn’t stopped lying.

She had made a deal with the queen. A cruel, heartless deal. Spy on Ivan. Learn his weaknesses. Report them. In return, she’d get her ship back. And enough gold to disappear forever. She had wanted freedom. A chance to start over. And for that... she had agreed to betray the only man who had ever truly loved her.

Now, he looked at her like she was his entire world. Like she was his air.

And Lydia couldn’t breathe.

She held him close, patting his back. Trying to be strong. But inside, she felt like she was crumbling. Like she was made of glass and the cracks were growing deeper every second.

Ivan’s eyes finally closed. He had not slept in days. His breath grew softer, slower, as he finally drifted into sleep in her arms.

Lydia watched him. Her chest rose and fell in silence. Tears quietly slipped down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them. "I’m sorry," she whispered.

She slowly pulled herself away from him. She didn’t want to, but she had to. She needed to breathe. She needed to fall apart.

As she stepped out of his chambers, her legs buckled beneath her. She leaned against the wall, her body shaking.

Tears poured from her eyes. She covered her mouth to keep herself from sobbing too loudly.

"He trusts me," she said to herself. "And I’m lying to him."

It wasn’t in the past. It was happening now.

She stayed there for a long time. Her heart heavy with guilt, her body too weak to move. She didn’t know how to fix what she had broken. But she knew one thing for sure.

She didn’t deserve his love.

---

Back in Svetlana, Olga was pacing in her room. Her hair was loose, and her hands wouldn’t stay still. She looked almost mad with frustration.

Then came the knock.

It was the Grand Chamberlain, holding a small, wrapped parcel.

"It arrived for you, Your Majesty," he said, bowing.

Olga frowned. "From who?"

"There is no sender, Your Majesty. No seal. No signature. It came through the guards’ post—left at the outer gates by an unknown messenger. No one saw who. It’s... strange."

Even he looked shaken. Rightfully so.

A chill ran down Olga’s spine. Her eyes narrowed sharply. She snatched the parcel from his hand, suddenly alert. Her heart thumped a little faster. Something about it felt off. Dangerous.

Not even Olga—who had eyes in every corner of the palace—knew who had sent it. And that terrified her... but it also thrilled her.

She waited until he had left the room before tearing the wrapping open with quick fingers.

Inside was a folded letter. Plain paper. No scent. No sign of origin. Not even her closest guards could trace it. It was as if it had fallen from the sky.

She unfolded it slowly, almost as if afraid it would vanish in her hands.

She read it once. Then again. And again.

Her fingers gripped the paper tighter. Her lips parted, then curled.

A slow, sharp smile spread across her face.

Not a warm smile. No.

It was cold. Thrilled. Almost gleeful.

She looked up, her eyes wide, almost sparkling with something wild.

"Heaven is on my side," she whispered.

She folded the paper back and pressed it to her chest. A fire lit in her eyes. She didn’t know who had sent it. Not even she, with all her spies, had a clue.

But whoever it was... they knew something.

Something big.

Something explosive.

And it was exactly what she needed.

She turned toward the window, her heart pounding—not with fear, but excitement.

Because the game had just changed.

And Olga was ready to burn the board.