Chapter 247: The Devil’s Truth

Tatiana’s hands trembled as she managed to leave the place quickly. She didn’t know how her legs carried her down the hall. The air felt heavy, and her chest tightened as if the walls were closing in on her. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was racing so fast it hurt. Lydia was pregnant. The thought repeated over and over in her head like a hammer. She’s pregnant.

She reached a corner and pressed her hand against the wall, gasping softly. Her palms were wet with sweat. Her eyes burned as she tried to hold back tears, but they still came — hot, fast, and helpless. Her heart felt like it had shattered into pieces. She turned sharply, her head lowered, afraid someone might see her like this. The thought of Lydia carrying Ivan’s child tore her apart in a way she had never imagined. She walked faster, her steps uneven, almost tripping on her own gown as she hurried away, her lips trembling.

Inside the waiting room, the air was still.

Irina stood in front of Lydia, her eyes filled with worry. She had tried to be calm, but her voice came out heavy with emotion as she said softly, "You have to tell him, Lydia. That you are carrying his child."

Lydia’s body stiffened. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her eyes glistened with tears. Her voice, when it finally came, was weak and trembling. "I can’t."

Irina frowned, taking a small step forward. "Lydia, listen to me—"

"I can’t, godmother!" Lydia cried out, her voice breaking. The tears she had been holding back finally fell, spilling down her cheeks. "I can’t tell him!"

Irina’s chest tightened. She reached for her, but Lydia moved back, her whole body shaking.

"Lydia," Irina said quietly, "you have to tell him. I understand it’s hard, but you must. You can’t carry this burden alone. You can’t hide this from him."

Lydia shook her head, her tears falling harder. "You don’t understand," she said weakly. Her voice cracked, heavy with pain. "You don’t understand, godmother. I can’t tell him. If I do, he’ll leave me again. He’ll abandon me again. I can’t let this child suffer. I can’t lose another baby. Not again."

Her voice broke completely at the end. She covered her mouth as more tears came. Her shoulders trembled as if she was trying to hold herself together but couldn’t anymore.

Irina’s eyes filled with tears too. She stepped forward and held Lydia’s arms gently. "Are you hearing yourself, my dear child?" she asked softly. "How do you expect to keep your pregnancy a secret forever? Tell me, how?"

Lydia shook her head again, refusing to look up. Her voice came out low and broken. "I know I can’t hide it forever," she said. "But I have to keep it secret for now. If not, he’ll leave me. He’ll abandon us again like before."

Her lips trembled as she spoke. "I can’t go through that again. Never again. Please, godmother. Please, we have to keep it a secret. You must promise me."

Her hands reached out and held Irina’s tightly. Her eyes were desperate, wet with tears. "Please," she whispered. "Don’t tell anyone. Please, promise me."

Irina’s throat tightened. She couldn’t speak for a moment. She looked at Lydia — this fragile, trembling woman before her, who once had the strength of fire in her eyes. She had been through too much, far too much for one heart to bear.

Irina sighed deeply. She gently cupped Lydia’s face and wiped her tears. "Get some rest, my sweet child," she said softly. "You look exhausted."

Lydia nodded slowly, her tears still falling.

Irina added, "Take care of yourself. You are not alone, Lydia. You hear me? You are not."

Lydia’s lips moved, but no words came. She simply nodded again, weakly.

Irina hugged her, holding her tightly. Lydia rested her head against her shoulder, silent but still crying softly. Irina stroked her hair and whispered, "It’s okay. It’s okay, my sweet child."

But in her heart, Irina was troubled. Because she knew the truth — hiding this would only make things worse. Yet, looking at Lydia now, so fragile and broken, she couldn’t bring herself to argue anymore.

Outside the room, Tatiana was gone. Only silence lingered in the hall.

---

Ivan’s footsteps echoed down the long corridor. Servants stepped aside quickly as he passed. His chest felt tight, and he didn’t even notice how his hands were shaking.

Halfway down the hall, he ran into Anna.

"Your Highness," she said quickly, bowing.

"Where is she?" Ivan asked immediately, his voice tense.

Anna blinked. "Her Highness is not in her chambers."

Ivan’s heart skipped. "Then where is she?"

Anna hesitated, then replied, "She is in the waiting room, with Lady Volkova."

Ivan let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing a little. He nodded. "Thank you." He turned to leave but suddenly stopped. He turned back toward her.

"Lady Petrovna," he said quietly, his tone softer this time.

Anna looked up nervously. "Your Highness?"

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "I need you to be honest with me."

She looked puzzled but nodded. "Of course, Your Highness."

He swallowed, his voice trembling slightly. "Lydia is fine, isn’t she? She’s okay?"

Anna stared at him. She saw how his hands trembled slightly at his sides, how his voice cracked with worry. She saw the fear in his eyes — not of danger, but of losing someone again.

"She’s fine, Your Highness," Anna said softly. "She’s fine."

Ivan nodded slowly. "You’re sure?"

"Yes," Anna replied. "She’s fine, I promise."

He gave a small, grateful nod, though he still looked troubled. Then he turned and continued walking.

---

In the waiting room, Lydia finally stood up. Her eyes were red and swollen, her voice soft. "I’ll rest now," she murmured.

Irina nodded. "Of course." She took Lydia’s hand gently and walked her out of the room.

As they walked down the corridor, Lydia’s eyes were on the floor. Her heart was heavy, her steps slow. Every breath felt like it hurt.

When they reached her chambers, Irina was about to speak when they both saw him.

Ivan was there.

He stood by the window, his expression unreadable at first, but his eyes softened the moment he saw her. Lydia froze for a second. Her heart twisted painfully. She didn’t expect to see him there — not now, not when her eyes were still wet with tears.

She took a breath, trying to steady herself. "Godmother," she said quickly, her voice trembling slightly. "We’ll talk later. I want to get a little rest."

Irina opened her mouth to say something, but Lydia didn’t give her the chance. She turned away, her steps quick, her face pale.

"I’ll see you later," Lydia said again, barely above a whisper.

Then she walked past Ivan, pretending not to notice him. She didn’t dare look at him because she knew if she did, she might break down. Her heart ached with every step.

Ivan turned slowly, watching her walk past him. He saw her eyes — red, tired, broken. He saw the way her hands trembled slightly as she held her skirt. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words refused to come.

Lydia entered her room and gently shut the door behind her. But her hand stayed on the doorknob. She stood there silently, breathing unsteadily, as if waiting — as if scared he might follow her, and even more scared that he wouldn’t.

She leaned her head against the door, her heart pounding painfully.

Ivan stood there for a moment, staring at the door. He wanted to knock. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, to hold her, to say that whatever it was, they would face it together. But something held him back. Maybe fear. Maybe pride. Maybe the guilt that still haunted him every night.

He looked down and clenched his fists, then turned away quietly.

Irina watched him from the side. She wanted to speak — to tell him the truth, to tell him that Lydia was carrying his child. The words were there, burning at the tip of her tongue. But when she looked at him — at the heaviness in his eyes — her mouth wouldn’t open.

She couldn’t do it.

The room fell silent again. Only the faint sound of the door creaking as Lydia leaned against it, trying to hold herself together, and the soft sound of Ivan’s footsteps fading away down the corridor.