Bound by lies Trapped by Desire (Elena and Nikolai) novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147

Elena’s POV:

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“Everything seems to be progressing perfectly, Elena. The fetus is growing well…we’re already twenty–seven weeks along! I’m sure you’re looking forward to him coming. Have you decided on a name yet?” The doctor asked me, her voice warm and reassuring.

Her words, meant to be comforting, landed with a heavy weight in my heart. I managed a strained smile and shook my head.

Time had passed with an astonishing, terrifying speed. It had already been five and a half months since I had started my internship at Legacy.

My expectations about my pregnancy showing had been completely off; even at almost seven months along, it didn’t show much, not to the casual observer, I wore intentionally baggy clothes, layers that effectively concealed the growing bump, though Seraphina had undoubtedly figured it out. She was the only person I’d had to explain myself to.

Despite my efforts, it was very obvious, even after this fruitful internship where I’d poured every ounce of my focus into my tasks, that I wouldn’t be offered a full–time job. I wasn’t upset about it too much. No, in fact, I still had many pressing matters on my mind to worry about my career at the moment.

Nikolai still had not signed the divorce papers. And as ashamed as I was to admit it, even to myself, I had to accept the uncomfortable truth that I had become complacent. I had stopped my lawyer from moving any further, from pressing the issue. But even I knew that this situation was already too far gone. Seven months. It was too much. I needed to tell him now. Even if, after knowing the truth, if he… if he chose to stay… then maybe.

Just maybe… a small, treacherous part of me whispered.

I was snapped out of my swirling thoughts when I felt my phone buzz. I looked down, realizing I had already exited the doctor’s office, the file containing my latest ultrasound images clutched tightly in my hand.

I looked down at the caller ID. Sergei.

I picked it up, pressing the phone to my ear. His voice came in, smooth and resonant. “Good afternoon, Dochenka.” He said, the endearment, once jarring, now merely a part of his usual greeting. After having heard the word many times over the past months, I had already learned to ignore it.

“Good afternoon. What happened?” I asked, cutting straight to the chase, a frown creasing my brow. His tone held an unusual hesitation. He took a deep, measured inhale, the sound crackling slightly through the phone. I couldn’t help but frown further, my anxiety spiking. “What? Did… did things not go like we planned? Has something gone wrong with the case?”

Almost seven weeks after Frankie Hudson’s rearrest, the wheels of justice had begun to grind. Dmitri’s arrest warrant had finally been issued, and he’d been publicly apprehended during one of his typical extravagant outings with his friends, caught off guard in a posh downtown

restaurant.

The part that made it almost surreal was that there was no dramatic twist, no chaotic shootout, like I’d been afraid of and anticipating after the cryptic, threatening text message I’d received months ago.

In fact, it was stranger than that Dmitri hadn’t made a fuss on the news, hadn’t put up any theatrical resistance. He had quietly, almost compliantly, got into the police car, his expression almost bored. Only after seeing him apprehended with my own eyes, broadcast across every news channel, had I started feeling a little semblance of peace after being on edge for so long. Every day, morning and night, I made sure to call Mom and Fiona, checking up on them.

However, that, as Sergei had predicted, was when the actual legal battle had begun. Even though the police had used the previous seven weeks to create a solid, legally sound case for Mielle’s death and Frankie’s coercion, meticulously building evidence independent of Sergei’s initial anonymous tip, the Vetrovs‘ power was undeniable.

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Chapter 147

Trials began soon after. And obviously, just as expected, Dmitri did not plead guilty. His father had hired the country’s most renowned lawyer, who fought this case tooth and nail against the one hired by Sergei himself.

The defense argued vehemently that despite the patemity evidence and the chilling video of Liberty Romano’s mother’s assault, there was no direct, criminal causal link proven between Dmitri’s actions and Liberty’s suicide eight years prior. They framed Liberty’s death as a tragic, deeply personal choice influenced by her own mental health struggles, not a criminal act of murder by Dmitri

Personally, I hadn’t expected much to come out of that particular accusation either. After all, eight years had passed, and as expected, the charges specifically related to Liberty Romano’s death and her family’s murder were severed from the trial due to insufficient evidence. It was frustrating, but not surprising.

What happened next, however, was not within the bounds of my expectations. Or let’s just say that I had hoped and prayed with every fiber of my being that it wouldn’t happen, even though a realistic part of my heart knew that the chances were agonizingly high.

In the trial proceedings regarding Mielle’s sexual assault, Dmitri’s lawyers seized on the “intoxication defense” for all involved parties, which included Dmitri, Lazar, and even Mielle herself. They argued that while the acts were indeed deplorable, the high levels of intoxication meant that Dmitri and the others lacked the specific intent required for a felony rape conviction. They painted a picture of reckless, drunken excess,

rather than malicious, premeditated sexual violence.

And the court, unbelievably, actually ended up reducing his sentence further. That last trial had ended up aggravating me so much that I had ended up getting a fever. And of course, after Mom found out, she’d been furious, forcing me to stay out of the city for the next trial, sternly declaring, ‘What will happen, will happen. You’ve already done your best, Elena. Now leave it for the professionals.‘

And I mean, it’s not like I could barge into court and change anything when the judge herself had made this judgment.

So, since I had started becoming so incredibly stressed with the trials, and with everything else going on in my life, everyone from Mom to

even Shinichiro had decided to keep a collective eye on me, making sure I didn’t check the TV.

Since today was the day of the final verdict, the last trial. It was ridiculous, really; if I wanted to, I could just check my phone, or browse the

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