The terminally ill son of wealthy parents married a naive girl, and she took him to a remote area. Six months later, his parents could barely recognize their son.

“Gena, are you sure you’ve thought of everything?”
“Mom…”
“I know what I’m talking about. She’s only with you for your money, right?”

Gennady sighed deeply.

“Mom, I understand your concerns, but they’re completely unfounded. Arguing with you is pointless; you’ll never change your mind. Think what you want. We’re not planning anything grand.”

“Gena, stop. I’m sure: she’s just using you. You know that very well. This girl…”

“Mom, please don’t go on. Lena and I have known each other for over five years, and we’ve been preparing for this step for a long time.”

“I just want to remind you: you’re a good catch. Any girl would jump at the chance to be with you. Don’t you realize our situation?”

Gennady closed his eyes as if to ward off exhaustion.

“Mom, tell me honestly: what is more important to you, our status or my happiness?”

Anna Nikolaevna looked at her husband helplessly.

“Sasha, why are you keeping quiet?”

Alexander, putting down his newspaper, smiled slightly.

“Anya, you know one thing about you: you only talk to me when you reach a dead end. The rest of the time, you’ve made decisions on your own for the past 27 years. And if something goes wrong, you always blame me.”

Anna Nikolaevna narrowed her eyes.

“Are you done? Now let’s talk seriously.”

“Gena is an adult, fully capable of making her own decisions. I don’t understand why we should interfere with her choices. In my opinion, Lena is a worthy girl.”

“Worthy? In our times, no one survives without money.”

“By the way, you weren’t always rich either, have you forgotten?”

Anna Nikolaevna clearly began to lose her composure.

“Sasha, you’re irresponsible! Our son is about to ruin his life!”

“Calm down. Nothing terrible is happening. He’ll continue his treatment, and maybe his wife will even have a positive influence. What’s bothering you so much? I don’t understand.”

Anna Nikolaevna left the room abruptly, and Gennady struggled to get up from his chair.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine, don’t worry.”

When the son turned 17, something strange happened to him. The doctors were never able to determine a precise diagnosis. One theory after another was proposed; the treatment only partially helped. Once, a well-known professor said:

“It seems as if your son has lost the ability to resist illness. If this had happened a hundred years ago, I would have called it a curse. But now… there’s nothing to do, just shrug and watch.”

Alexander knew that money couldn’t solve everything, but he spent huge sums on treatments at the best clinics. However, one day Gennady asked:

“Please, let me rest a little. I’ve already forgotten what our house looks like, and I can’t remember the last time I slept in my own bed.”

Surprisingly, the mother, who until then had insisted on every possible treatment method, supported her son:

“Sasha, maybe it’s time to let Gennady rest. Let’s follow the doctors’ recommendations.”

Alexander waved his hand dismissively. He would have argued if he’d seen any improvement, but there wasn’t. At home, however, Gennady felt better: her appetite had returned and she’d even gained a little weight.

From then on, he went to the clinic twice a year for checkups, then returned home with new instructions from the doctors.

Gena managed to finish university thanks to his father’s financial support. He was a capable student, but frequent absences due to illness didn’t make him very popular with the teachers.

He and Lena met during their university years. Their friendship lasted for several years until Lena recently confessed her feelings to him. This gave Gena strength, as if she had grown wings behind her back.

As she had suspected, the wedding turned out to be much more lavish than she had expected. Her mother organized such a celebration that it seemed the entire town had been invited. Lena spent the entire evening trying to keep a smile on her face, ignoring the tense atmosphere.

Relations between Lena’s mother, Galina Ivanovna, and Anna Nikolaevna did not start well. The latter believed that Galina, having no status or money, should be grateful for such a marriage. However, Galina preferred to stay away from the groom’s parents.

The climax of the evening came with the presentation of the gift. When Lena’s mother announced that the young couple would receive a small house inherited from her grandfather, located in a nature reserve, Anna Nikolaevna couldn’t contain herself:

“My God, how can you present that ruin at the end of the world as a valuable gift?” Anna Nikolaevna was furious.

Gena looked at her mother reproachfully:
“Mom, stop it.”

“Enough, Gena? Nothing can be fixed now!”

After Galina Ivanovna left, Anna immediately turned to her husband:
“Did you see her? She doesn’t do anything for herself, yet she acts like a queen!”

A few days after the wedding, Gena informed her parents:
“Lena and I have decided to move into that house, the one Galina Ivanovna gave us as a gift.”

Anna Nikolaevna almost lost her composure:
“Are you crazy?!”

Part 1: The Calm Before the Storm

The thick curtains in the room barely let any light in, casting a shadow over the apartment. It was mid-morning, but the world outside seemed to be muted by the oppressive weight of the conversation that had taken place in the previous hour. Gennady sat in his favorite armchair, the one next to the window, staring blankly at the view of the city he had once been so proud of.

His parents had been arguing for what felt like hours. His mother, Anna Nikolaevna, could always be counted on to make a scene when things didn’t go according to her plans. And this time was no different.

“You are making a huge mistake, Gena,” his mother had said, pacing around the room, her voice trembling with frustration. “This girl, Lena, she has no background, no money, no future! She’ll only drag you down, you’ll see. It’s just a matter of time before she—”

“Mom, enough,” Gennady had interrupted, trying to keep his voice steady, even though his chest was tight with anger and fear. He was tired of these conversations, tired of his mother’s persistent meddling, of her refusal to let him live his own life.

“You don’t understand,” Anna Nikolaevna snapped. “She’s just after your money, Gena. I’ve seen it before. All these girls—they come in with their sweet smiles, but they’re only looking for a way to take advantage of you!”

Gennady sighed deeply. “Mom, I’m 26. I’ve known Lena for years. We’ve been through so much together, and she’s not like that.”

His mother’s eyes narrowed. “You’re young, and you don’t see it. All she wants is your inheritance. She’s just trying to secure her future by marrying you, and you’re letting her do it.”

“You don’t understand,” he repeated quietly. “We’re not planning anything grand. It’s not about money. It’s about love.”

But his mother wouldn’t hear it. She never did. She had never accepted Lena, never seen her as someone good enough for Gennady, and Gennady knew it would be pointless to argue further. His mother had her ideas, and they were set in stone.

Meanwhile, his father, Alexander, had been quiet throughout the argument. He had remained seated in his chair, his face obscured behind the newspaper he was reading, as if he hadn’t been paying attention. But Gennady knew better. He could feel the tension radiating from his father, the way his shoulders were hunched, the way he avoided eye contact.

Finally, Alexander spoke up, his voice measured and calm, almost too calm.

“Anya, enough,” he said, his tone tired. “Gena is an adult now. He can make his own decisions. We’ve been through this before. He’s made up his mind.”

Anna Nikolaevna turned sharply to face her husband. “But this is different, Sasha! This is Lena. Do you not see how she’s manipulating him?”

“Lena’s not perfect, Anya, but she’s not our enemy. If Gennady wants to be with her, then we should respect his choice,” Alexander said, setting the newspaper down and looking at his wife, his voice carrying a quiet authority that usually went unnoticed.

Anna Nikolaevna huffed, clearly irritated. “You’re being irresponsible, Sasha. You’re supposed to be the head of this family.”

“I am,” Alexander said softly. “But I also know when to let go, Anya. Our son is capable of making his own decisions. I trust him.”

The room fell silent for a long moment. Gennady felt the weight of their words. His mother’s fear, his father’s resignation—it was all there, pressing down on him. But it didn’t matter anymore. He had made his decision, and nothing his parents said could change that.

“Lena and I are moving to that house,” Gennady said, his voice steady.

Anna Nikolaevna’s face turned red with anger. “What? That rundown shack in the middle of nowhere? You’re really doing this to me?”

“It’s a gift from Lena’s family,” Gennady said, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ve already discussed it, and we’re moving in next week.”

“You’ve lost your mind!” Anna Nikolaevna exclaimed, her voice shrill. “You’re going to throw your life away for her, for a house in the middle of nowhere, away from your family, away from everything we’ve built?”

“I’m not throwing my life away,” Gennady replied, his voice steady. “I’m building my life. And I want to do it with Lena.”

“Why do you always make these decisions without thinking? What will people say?” Anna Nikolaevna asked, her tone softer now, but still filled with disbelief.

“I don’t care what people say,” Gennady said, standing up. “I care about what makes me happy. And this makes me happy.”

There was another pause. Anna Nikolaevna opened her mouth to speak again, but Gennady interrupted her. “It’s decided. I’m moving out. I’ve already made arrangements.”

His mother stared at him, her face contorting with frustration, before she finally sighed and turned away, defeated.

“You’ll regret this, Gena,” she muttered under her breath.

Gennady didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He had made his decision.

The Decision to Leave

As the days passed, the tension in the house only grew. Gennady had stopped trying to explain himself to his parents. He had made his decision, and now he was moving forward with it. The apartment felt more and more suffocating, like a cage he had outgrown.

Lena, on the other hand, was quieter than usual. She had always been a kind, gentle soul, but lately, she had grown anxious. Gennady could see the stress in her face, the way she hesitated before making decisions, the way she would often retreat into herself. She wasn’t just worried about the move; she was worried about him.

But Gennady didn’t want to worry her.

“I’m fine, Lena,” he said one evening, as they sat on the couch together. “Really. I know my parents are upset, but this is our choice. We’ll make it work.”

Lena nodded, but the doubt in her eyes was hard to ignore. “I know, Gena. I just… I just want us to be happy.”

“We will be,” Gennady assured her, taking her hand in his. “We’ll make it work.”

But deep down, Gennady wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if the house, or the life they were about to build, would be enough to keep them together. He wasn’t sure if it would be enough to make up for the way his parents had looked at him with such disappointment, the way they had tried to control him, to mold him into someone he wasn’t.

But as he looked at Lena, her face still full of hope, he knew one thing for certain: he had to follow his heart. He had to make a life of his own, even if it meant leaving everything behind.

The First Night

The night they moved into the small house in the remote village was quiet, still. The house was far from perfect. The walls were peeling, the floors creaked underfoot, and there was a musty smell that lingered in every corner. But for the first time in a long time, Gennady felt a sense of peace. He had left behind the life his parents had planned for him, and now, he was here, with Lena, building something new.

The first night, they sat on the floor, surrounded by boxes, eating takeout and listening to the sounds of the wind outside. Gennady looked around, at the small house, at the woman he loved, and felt a sense of calm wash over him.

This was his decision. This was his life.

And for the first time in years, it felt like it was all his.

The Unseen Truth

But the peace didn’t last long.

A week after they moved in, Gennady woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of footsteps. The house creaked as if someone were walking through the halls. He sat up quickly, his heart racing. Lena was still asleep beside him, but something wasn’t right. He felt a chill in the air, a strange, unsettling presence.

Gennady got out of bed and walked down the hallway. The footsteps continued, faint but persistent. He followed the sound, his breath shallow as he approached the kitchen. The light was on, and the door to the basement was wide open.

A cold breeze swept through the room as he slowly descended the stairs, his eyes scanning the darkened basement. At the far end of the room, he saw it—an old wooden chest, covered in dust, the lid slightly ajar.

He approached it cautiously, his fingers trembling as he reached for the lid.

When he opened it, his breath caught in his throat.

Inside the chest was an old book, its pages yellowed with age. It wasn’t just any book. It was a journal. And as Gennady flipped through the pages, his heart began to race.

The journal was filled with strange symbols, cryptic notes, and passages in a language he didn’t understand. But one sentence stood out.

“The legacy must be passed on, even if the blood is unwilling.”

Gennady’s hand shook as he closed the journal. His mind raced with questions, the unease creeping through him like a cold shadow.

The house was hiding something. Something dark, something that had been left behind by the people who had lived here before.

And it seemed that the legacy he was now part of wasn’t just about money or family—it was about something far more dangerous.

To be continued…

Part 2: The Secrets Beneath

The first few days in the old house felt oddly peaceful. Gennady and Lena spent the initial week unpacking, setting up the small space, and adjusting to the silence that came with their new life. The house was quaint in its own way—nothing extravagant, but enough to start over. There was a quiet beauty in the isolation, the kind that felt like freedom after years of suffocating under the weight of his parents’ expectations.

Lena, however, seemed to be adjusting slower than he had hoped. Her smile was still there, but Gennady could see the subtle cracks forming. She was trying to make the best of it, but something in her eyes—the way she would sometimes glance at the windows, as if longing for the city—made him feel uneasy. He had thought that the simplicity of their new life would bring them closer, that the quiet would help them rediscover the love they had once shared. But the distance between them felt palpable, as if they were both waiting for something they couldn’t name.

The nights were the hardest for Gennady. After everything that had happened—the fight with his parents, the strange isolation—he found it hard to sleep. The house was filled with strange creaks and groans, and the dark corners felt like they were hiding something.

One evening, after a long day of working on the house, Gennady wandered into the basement, trying to shake the feeling of unease that had settled inside him. The basement, like the rest of the house, was old and dusty. The air was damp, the smell of mildew thick in the corners. He had avoided it for the most part—Lena had suggested they keep it locked until they could make the necessary repairs—but tonight, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important down there, something he needed to know.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the light flickered. Gennady squinted into the dark, his heart racing for reasons he couldn’t explain. The silence seemed to press in on him, making his skin crawl. Then, something caught his eye—a piece of furniture tucked in the far corner of the basement. He hadn’t noticed it before, though it seemed to loom over him now, calling out to him.

It was an old wooden chest, the kind that looked like it belonged in a museum. The wood was scuffed and darkened with age, and it seemed strangely out of place among the stacks of boxes and unused furniture. Gennady felt an almost magnetic pull to it, as if his very presence was being drawn toward it.

He approached the chest slowly, his breath coming faster now. It was as though the air around him thickened, and each step forward became heavier than the last.

Gennady crouched down in front of it, his fingers trembling as he reached for the brass clasp. His mind raced with questions: What was this chest doing here? Why hadn’t they ever noticed it before? And what could possibly be inside?

With a soft click, the clasp gave way, and the lid creaked open, revealing a stack of old papers, letters, and a thick, leather-bound book. The book caught his attention first. Its cover was decorated with strange symbols—almost like runes—etched in gold that had faded with time. Gennady’s fingers hovered over it, almost as if the book was alive, pulsing with some hidden energy.

He flipped it open, and the first page was filled with neat handwriting. The ink was faded but still legible, and the words seemed to draw him in.

“The legacy will be passed on, even if the blood is unwilling.”

The sentence hit Gennady like a punch to the stomach. He flipped through more pages, his eyes scanning the cryptic notes, trying to make sense of them. There were references to something called “The Family Lineage,” to blood rituals, to a legacy passed down through generations. It all seemed so bizarre, like something out of an old myth, but the more he read, the more he felt like he was uncovering a secret that had been buried for far too long.

He stopped on a page that mentioned his own name.

“Gennady Belov, the last of the line, the one who will carry the torch.”

Gennady’s hands shook as he read the words. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be about him. But the more he thought about it, the more the pieces began to fall into place. The legacy his family had been hiding for years. The strange way his father had acted when he was young. The way his mother had always warned him about the dangers of too much ambition, too much power.

And the cryptic message about the “unwilling blood.”

He had to tell Lena. He had to show her. But as he stood up to go upstairs, he noticed something else in the chest—a small, gold ring. The design was intricate, with the same symbols from the book etched into it. It glinted in the dim light, almost calling to him. He picked it up carefully, feeling its weight in his hand. It seemed like it was made for someone specific, but who?

The Breaking Point

Lena had been quiet ever since they moved into the house. The warmth she had once shown him was now distant, like a flickering candle that had burned too long without being tended to. Gennady hadn’t realized how much he missed her touch, her presence, until it was almost gone. He needed to fix things between them, but he didn’t know how.

He thought about the ring in his pocket, the pages of the book, and the bloodline that seemed to haunt him. What had he stumbled into? Was this some twisted family secret that had been passed down through the generations?

That evening, after dinner, Gennady decided to confront Lena. He had to tell her about the book, the chest, and the legacy. It was the only way they could truly move forward. He couldn’t keep this secret from her any longer.

Lena sat at the kitchen table, her fingers wrapped around her coffee cup, staring out the window at the moonlit sky. Gennady took a deep breath and sat down across from her.

“Lena,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I need to tell you something. Something important.”

She turned to him, her eyes soft but distant. “What is it?”

“I found something in the basement,” Gennady said, pulling out the book. He placed it on the table in front of her. “Something that… it’s about my family. About us. About a legacy that’s been hidden for generations.”

Lena looked at the book, her eyebrows furrowing. “What is it, Gena? What are you talking about?”

He opened the book and pointed to the page with his name. “This,” he said, his voice cracking. “This is about me. About us.”

Lena took the book in her hands, scanning the pages. Her expression shifted from confusion to something else—something like fear. She looked up at him.

“You’re telling me this is real?” she whispered. “That this is about you?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But I think it’s time you knew the truth. I don’t know what’s happening, but I feel like we’ve been caught in something we don’t understand.”

Lena’s hand shook as she closed the book and set it down. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, but her voice remained steady. “What does this mean, Gennady? What does it mean for us?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said, his heart heavy. “But I think we’re connected to something far bigger than we could ever imagine. Something dangerous. And I think they’re coming for us.”

The Revelation

The next few days were a whirlwind. Gennady couldn’t stop thinking about the book, the ring, the legacy that seemed to be pulling him into something he didn’t understand. Lena, on the other hand, had become quieter than usual, her mind clearly racing as she tried to process everything he had told her.

That night, as they lay in bed, Lena finally spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about everything you said,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know what to believe. But I know one thing for sure: I’m not going to let whatever this is destroy us.”

Gennady turned to her, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and fear. “You mean it? You’re not scared?”

Lena smiled faintly, her eyes glowing in the dim light. “I’m scared. But I’m also with you. We’ll face this together.”

In that moment, Gennady felt a surge of love for her. She was the one thing that hadn’t been consumed by this legacy, by the darkness that seemed to follow them. He would do anything to protect her.

The next morning, they went to the clinic for Gennady’s routine check-up. When they arrived, the atmosphere felt different. The air in the waiting room was thick, as if something was hanging in the air, something heavy.

“Mr. Belov,” the nurse said, her voice calm but with a hint of something else in it. “We need you to come with us. There’s someone who wants to speak with you.”

Confused, Gennady followed the nurse into a private room, where an unfamiliar man sat waiting for him. The man was tall, dressed in a dark suit, and his presence was as intimidating as it was unsettling.

“Gennady Belov,” the man said, his voice deep and commanding. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Gennady’s pulse quickened. “Who are you?”

The man smiled, but it wasn’t a warm smile. It was cold, calculating. “I am part of the organization that your family has been involved with for generations. And now, we need you to fulfill your part of the bargain.”

The words hit Gennady like a blow to the chest. The bargain? What did he mean?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gennady said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The man leaned forward, his eyes piercing. “You will, soon enough. But we need the bloodline to continue. And you are the key.”

The End