I walk out of the house knowing there’s a very good chance I’ll never return to my childhood home. My relationship with my father is over. He’s not the man I remember from my childhood. He changed. I changed.
If I discover he took away the man I loved, I will not hesitate to exact revenge. I don’t need Maksim to do that for me.
I’ll do it myself.
Chapter Twelve
Maksim
The private dining room at Oblomov's reeks of expensive cigars and whiskey.
I watch the three men across the table. They’re all former lieutenants in Kira's organization, now potential assets in mine. I’m building my own army. Not Roman’s. Mine. I calculate exactly how much pressure to apply. Too little and they'll stay loyal to her. Too much and they'll panic and warn her.
It's a delicate balance.
"Gentlemen." I lean back in my chair, projecting confidence I don't entirely feel. "I appreciate you meeting with me."
"With respect, Maksim, we're loyal to Kira Markov. She's been good to us."
I pour vodka for all of us—a good vintage, expensive enough to show respect. "Because from where I'm sitting, she's about to become Roman Belsky's wife. Which means her organization becomes his. Which means you all become his. Have you thought about what that transition looks like for you?"
"We assumed—" Dmitri starts.
"That you'd keep your positions? Your territories? Your cut of the profits?" I shake my head. "Roman doesn't work that way. He consolidates. Streamlines. Eliminates redundancy. Three weeks after that wedding, half of you will be out. The other half will be working for a fraction of what you make now."
I can see the calculation happening behind their eyes. Fear and greed warring with loyalty.
"But here's the thing," I continue, leaning forward. "I'm back. And I'm offering a better deal. Work with me now, help smooth this transition, and when the dust settles, you'll have better territories, better arrangements, and the backing of the Barinov name."
"What kind of help are you looking for?" one asks, and I know I've got him.
"Information. Loyalty. When the time comes, I need to know you'll follow the power instead of sentiment." I meet each oftheir eyes in turn. "Kira built something impressive. I respect that. But she's about to lose it all anyway. The question is whether you lose it with her or gain something better by making the smart choice now."
"She won't go down easy," Dmitri warns. "The Ice Queen doesn't break."
"The Ice Queen is already cracking." I inject just enough certainty into my voice. "I've seen it. She’ll be married soon. Pregnant. A mother. A wife. She will not be the leader you once knew.”
Silence as they process this.
"What exactly do you need from us?"
And just like that, I've won.
We spend the next hour discussing specifics. Territories they'll control. Profit percentages. The timeline for switching their allegiance from Kira to me. By the time we finish, I've secured three more pieces of her organization.
Three more nails in the coffin I'm building.
They leave first—safer that way, less obvious. I sit alone with the bottle of vodka and the hollow victory.
This is what I wanted. What I planned for six years.
So why does it feel like I'm destroying something valuable instead of getting justice?
"She was devastated, you know."
I look up.
Ruslan has returned.
