Chapter 8
989 Words
Elinya’s POV
When I heard the offer, my heart almost stopped.
The hospital had always been a place of hope for me, but this was different.
This was life-changing.
Rurik Volkovich stood before me with a calm expression that made it difficult to read his true intention.
But his words were clear.
He was offering me the best medical course, the best training, and a huge sum of money—enough to support my father, enough to change our lives.
My hands trembled slightly.
My mind raced.
This was what I had always dreamed of.
A chance to become a better doctor. A chance to reach the highest level of medicine. A chance to finally provide for my father.
And the money…
It would mean my father could live comfortably in the countryside. He wouldn’t have to worry anymore. He wouldn’t have to sacrifice his happiness for my dreams.
I looked at Rurik.
His eyes were steady, almost emotionless.
But I could feel the power behind his words.
This wasn’t a simple offer.
It was an agreement.
My heart beat faster as I realized what he wanted in return.
He wanted me to treat his son.
Every day.
Wherever he went.
For as long as it took.
My stomach tightened.
Izar Volkovich.
The name sounded like a storm.
I had heard few rumors about him too he was also one of the popular gossip title in the hospital—how cold he was, how dangerous he was, how he hated everyone.
And now I was being asked to be near him.
To treat him.
To stay with him.
To be his doctor.
To be in his world.
My mind flashed back to the rumors about Igor.
The thought made me shiver.
But the offer was too big to ignore.
This was my chance.
My dream.
My future.
I took a deep breath.
“I will do it,” I said, my voice steady. Without worrying any consequences on my agreement
Rurik nodded, satisfied.
“Good,” he said. “Then we have an agreement.”
My heart was racing, but I forced myself to stay calm.
I had accepted the offer.
I had chosen to step into a world I didn’t understand.
And I had no idea how dangerous it would be.
Rurik’s POV
After the agreement with Dr.Elinya Sen, I returned back to my mansion.
The corridors of the Volkovich mansion were quiet, but the silence was heavy—like a room full of secrets waiting to be spoken.
I entered Izar’s private chamber without knocking.
He was seated at the end of the room, shirtless, his muscular body tense as he moved through physical therapy exercises. His eyes were cold, focused, and distant.
He did not look up when I entered.
That was Izar.
He never gave me the satisfaction of being acknowledged.
I walked closer, my footsteps steady.
“Father,” he said without turning.
“Stop calling me that,” I replied, voice low. “It is not a greeting. It is a reminder.”
His body froze slightly, but he continued his exercise, refusing to show that my words affected him.
“I’m not here to argue,” I said. “You need treatment.”
He paused for a moment. Then he spoke in a tone that was both cold and irritated.
“I know.”
“I’m not asking if you know,” I said. “I’m telling you that you will receive it.”
He finally looked at me.
His hazel eyes were sharp. “Who is going to treat me?”
I held his gaze without blinking.
“Dr. Elinya Sen.”
Izar’s expression changed immediately—anger flickered across his face like a storm.
“No,” he said sharply.
My patience did not break.
“I already arranged it,” I replied calmly. “She will be with you every day. Wherever you go. Until you are healed COMPLETELY.” I said letting the last word absorb him.
Izar stood up quickly, his body tense, his muscles flexing like coiled steel.
“I will not be treated by her,” he said, voice low but dangerous. “I don’t need her. I don’t want her.”
“You will not be allowed to refuse,” I said quietly, not raising my voice. “Not this time.”
He stepped closer, eyes blazing.
“You think you can control me?” he asked, his voice cold.
I remained calm.
“I can,” I replied.
His anger surged, but he didn’t strike. Not yet.
He knew I wasn’t afraid of him.
And he knew he couldn’t win this battle.
“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice rough. “I hate people. I hate being touched. I hate being weak.”
“You will learn to accept it,” I said. “Not because you want to, but because you need to.”
Izar’s jaw clenched.
“You’re forcing me,” he said.
“I’m saving you,” I replied.
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then, as if the anger was too much to carry, he turned away and walked toward the window, staring out at the cold night.
“I will not like her,” he said softly, but I could hear the resentment in his voice. “I will not allow anyone to be close to me.”
“You don’t have to like her,” I said. “You just have to accept her treatment.”
He didn’t respond.
The room remained quiet.
I could feel the tension in the air—like the calm before a storm.
I knew Izar would resist.
He always did.
But I also knew he would not break the rules.
Not when it mattered.
Because the Volkovich name was stronger than his pride.
And because I had made a decision.
A decision that would not be questioned.
- Writer
