Liza's words still echoed in my head. Don't break under him, but bend him until he thinks you've already fallen. I touched the cold glass beside me. For so long, I thought survival meant pretending to be helpless. But now, I was done pretending.
"Something on your mind, Mrs. Lobanov?" Yuri asked after a while.
I looked at him through the reflection. "Do you ever get tired of watching people who don't trust you?"
He didn't blink. "My job isn't trust but loyalty."
"And what's the difference?"
He hesitated before answering. "Trust is a choice, and loyalty's an order."
That silence that followed was heavy, the kind that hides more truth than words ever could.
I leaned back in my seat, my fingers brushing the pendant around my neck. Mikhail said it was for protection, but did he mean from the world or from himself?
The streets grew quieter as we neared the penthouse district. The car stopped at a red light, and for a moment, I caught my own reflection in the window, seeing my calm eyes, painted lips, and a face that didn't belong to the girl Giovanni used to protect.
No, this was someone else. Someone who had learned to hide her fire until it burned at the right moment.
Yuri's voice broke the silence. "We'll be home soon."
I nodded. "Good."
But the word felt wrong, and home didn't sound safe anymore. The car turned into a private drive, and the guards outside straightened as we pulled in. Everything looked normal, too normal, and that kind of stillness felt rehearsed.
"Something's off," I murmured.
Yuri's hand went to his gun instantly. "What do you mean?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. Just a feeling."
He frowned but didn't argue. When the elevator doors opened, he followed me in. The ride up was too quiet; even the hum of the cables seemed to hold its breath. I stood beside him, staring at the numbers climbing on the screen, and my reflection stared back at me, sharp and calm.
Liza was right; truth didn't matter, but control did. But as the elevator neared the top floor, my chest tightened. Because control or not, something waited on the other side of those doors, and I wasn't sure I was ready to see it.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out first. The hallway was too silent. "Yuri?" I whispered.
He scanned the area with his hand on his gun. "Stay behind me."
But I didn't. I walked straight to the door, and it wasn't locked.
"Mikhail never leaves it open," I muttered, pushing it in.
My heels hit the marble, sharp and lonely on the floor, and the sound bounced off the walls.
"Where are the guards?" I asked.
Yuri didn't answer; he was already checking corners. The living room looked untouched with fresh flowers, the light dimmed, and everything was in his perfect place, but it felt wrong, too neat and too quiet.
Something in me then twisted.
"Wait here," Yuri said.
"No," I said, in a low voice. "If they wanted to scare me, I'll see it myself."
I walked through the corridor, toward my dressing room, and the door was open.
And then, I froze because my gowns were torn into ribbons. The mirrors cracked like spiderwebs, and the air was thick with perfume and something sharp, metallic.
