Page 76 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

I bent down, gathering the textbooks scattered on the coffee table one by one into my bag, each movement quick, like I wasn't giving myself time to hesitate.

That scene had drained too much from me. Now I just wanted to leave this place fast, get back to my own safe little world.

"Anna."

Ivan followed behind me.

I didn't respond, my steps quickening. Even my bag strap slipped down my shoulder.

But even though I was being obvious, he had no intention of letting me go.

Ivan grabbed my wrist.

His palm was hot, completely wrapping around that thin wrist bone. I struggled once. He tightened his grip slightly—didn't hurt, but I couldn't break free.

Just then, the doorbell at the entrance rang sharply.

The piercing sound shattered the stalemate in the living room. Ivan and I both froze.

Ivan frowned, releasing my hand. "Stay here. I'll get the door."

I pressed my temples. They were still throbbing. The voice in my head kept saying—you can't stay anymore. If you stay, you'll lose your mind.

The door opened.

I instinctively looked over.

The person standing outside made me suck in a cold breath.

No one else.

My father. Gary Bennett.

How absurd—I'd avoided him countless times in five years, never imagining our reunion would be at Ivan's house.

Gary was dressed neatly, hair slicked back shiny, even wearing an ill-fitting suit. But the greedy gleam in those eyes—I recognized it instantly.

Greed, calculation, like a vulture that smelled meat, even its wing feathers radiating cold.

Ivan stood at the door, turned sideways, blocking the light.

His whole body filled the doorframe, completely cutting Gary's shadow outside. "Some nerve you have to show up here."

Gary's face immediately arranged itself into an ingratiating smile, those laugh lines piling from his eyes to his mouth. "Mr. Volkov, I'm just looking for my missing daughter. That's got nothing to do with you, right?"

"But this is my home."

Gary's smile deepened, bending forward half a step, his oily crown reflecting light. "Of course I know that, but surely you can't stop me from seeing my daughter."

He waved toward the living room, voice drawn out long and slimy. "Anna, I see you."

That voice traveled through the foyer, through the light from the sconces. When it reached my ears, it was like an icy, slimy snake crawling up the back of my neck.

I stood in the middle of the living room, legs like they'd grown roots, nailed to the floor, unable to move.

All those memories of being chased, being beaten—they replayed before my eyes.

Fear seized my heart, yanked hard. My chest contracted violently, breathing felt blocked, like oxygen couldn't reach my lungs.