“Get off me,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Snapping out of it, he immediately pulled back—but not before snatching the passport from her limp fingers.

“I said what I said. Period.” He was breathing heavily—from anger… or something else. “You’ve got a choice. Go back to your father—or we figure this out together.”

“I should’ve just married that slimy Sergey,” Nadya muttered angrily, rubbing her wrists. “Then poisoned him on the wedding night and become a rich widow. Would’ve saved me from running from one tyrant to another.”

Spartacus chuckled and shook his head.

“Do you really think only decent people cross your path? You’re wrong, sweetheart. You might run into anyone—psychos, maniacs—and then even my so-called tyranny would feel like tender love.”

She stared at him, eyes sharp. He didn’t look away.

“So what’s your brilliant plan, then?” she snapped.

“Make peace with your daddy.”

“Impossible.”

“Why? You’re his daughter. He won’t abandon you.”

“He’s got better things to do than worry about me,” she said bitterly.

Spartacus studied her for a moment, then sighed and lowered his head.

“Then you need to make him worry about you.”

“What, hang myself? Leave a suicide note that says ‘It’s all Daddy’s fault’? Actually, not a bad idea. Thanks for suggesting it.”

“I suggested what now? Don’t talk nonsense.”

“I don’t know… Maybe he just needs time,” Spartacus said, voice softer. “No matter who he’s got in his life, he won’t completely abandon his own child. You saw how fast he found you?”

He flashed her a crooked smile. “Didn’t I tell you? And I’m telling you now too—listen to me.”

Nadya just shrugged and rested her head on her arms.

After a pause, Spartacus said calmly, “I’ve got to get to work.” He reached out and handed her passport back. “If you run off, I’m screwed. I’ll end up in jail.”

Nadya had come to accept her fate and continued playing the role of a loving, obedient wife to a village guy—hoping her father would soon soften and take his rebellious daughter back. Or at the very least, restore the comforts she once had.

For now, she endured her new life with surprising grit. At twenty-six, she was learning everything a woman in the countryside was expected to know. Household chores felt like divine punishment for disobeying her father. Sniffling and wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she'd grab a broom or a mop and get to work.

But it didn’t end with cleaning the house—her mother-in-law dragged her out to the barn with the cows and goats. The stench of manure and who-knew-what-else nearly drove her mad. The first time, she vomited. Styopa found it hilarious and shadowed her like a puppy—until she started assigning him tasks. Then he’d vanish as quickly as he came. Eventually, he stopped getting in her way altogether.

Katerina Alexandrovna, Spartacus’s mother, slowly began to warm up to Nadya. Despite her early stubbornness and delicate hands, the girl grew on her. Soon enough, Nadya started receiving gifts and going on visits with her mother-in-law. The woman boasted about her daughter-in-law to every neighbor, especially to the young women she used to chase away from her son.

One month passed. Then came autumn.

“You know, I’m done sleeping on the floor—it’s getting chilly,” Spartacus said one evening as they entered their bedroom.

Nadya glanced at him but said nothing. He was slightly surprised but didn’t press her. Fluffing his pillow, he lay down on one side of the bed. She quietly lay down on the other, turning her back to him.

“Good night,” he said softly.