But watching her retreat into herself, watching the spark that made her extraordinary dim to barely flickering embers—it felt like victory and failure twisted together until he couldn’t tell the difference.
Viktor closed the shipping manifest with more force than necessary and reached for his phone. Marcus answered on the second ring, his voice carrying the careful neutrality of a man who’d learned to read his boss’s moods.
“I need information,” Viktor said without preamble. “Anka’s interests from before we married. Hobbies, activities, things she was passionate about that her family might not have approved of.”
“How far back are we talking?”
“All of it. Everything you can find.”
Within two hours, Marcus had compiled a comprehensive file that painted a picture of a woman systematically denied the life she’d wanted to live. Art classes abandoned when Adrian decided they were impractical. A pilot’s license, she’d started pursuing until Matvei declared flying too dangerous for family members. Rock climbing excursions had been forbidden after she’d returned home with scraped knuckles and torn clothes.
And skydiving. Multiple certifications, dozens of jumps logged under a false name, always careful to schedule them when her family believed she was at university or charity events. The last jump had been six months before their wedding—her final act of rebellion before accepting the cage her brothers had built around her.
Viktor stared at the photographs Marcus had somehow acquired—Anka in full gear, her face radiant with the kind of joy he’d only seen glimpses of during their brief relationship. This was the woman who’d vanished from his life, the one who’d been buried beneath layers of family expectations and protective suffocation.
The woman his revenge was systematically destroying all over again.
“Clear my schedule for tomorrow,” he told Marcus. “And book us two slots at the skydiving center in Sussex County.”
“Both of you?” Marcus’s surprise was audible. “Viktor, you’ve never—”
“Then I’d better learn fast. Schedule me for emergency certification training. Whatever it takes.”
Sixteen hours later, Viktor was discovering that throwing himself out of an aircraft was significantly more terrifying in reality than it had appeared in Anka’s photographs. The ground instructor—a weathered man named Davidson who treated death-defying leaps like casual weekend activities—had spent the morning drilling safety protocols and emergency procedures into Viktor’s skull with the kind of repetitive intensity usually reserved for torture sessions.
“You’re paying for accelerated certification because your wife’s an experienced jumper?” Davidson asked during a brief break, skepticism heavy in his voice. “Most people work up to tandem jumps gradually.”
“Most people aren’t trying to surprise someone who thinks everyone in her life considers her interests foolish,” Viktor replied, adjusting the borrowed gear that felt like wearing a straightjacket made of safety equipment.
Davidson’s expression shifted, understanding replacing skepticism. “Ah. Grand gesture territory. Well, she picked a hell of a hobby for you to learn overnight. Try not to die on the way down—bad for business and worse for marriages.”
By noon, Viktor had somehow managed to convince the instructors that he was competent enough not to become a crater in a New Jersey field. His technique was adequate rather than graceful, but adequate would have to suffice. The goal wasn’t perfection—it was showing Anka that someone finallycared enough about her passions to share them instead of forbidding them.
She’d been quiet during the drive to the airfield, politely confused when he’d mentioned a surprise but not displaying the curiosity that had once made her irresistible to him. The careful compliance was like watching her slowly disappear, and Viktor found himself desperate to bring back even a flash of the fire that had originally drawn him to her.
“A skydiving center?” Anka asked as they pulled into the parking lot, her voice carefully neutral. “Viktor, I appreciate the thought, but I haven’t jumped in months. I’m probably not current on—”
“You’re current,” he interrupted, unable to suppress the satisfaction in his voice. “I checked. Your certifications are all valid, and Davidson says you’re cleared for solo jumps whenever you’re ready.”
She turned to stare at him, something flickering in her hazel eyes that might have been hope. “How did you know I had certifications?”
“The same way I knew about your coding tutorials and language studies.” Viktor killed the engine and turned to face her fully. “I told you I’ve been paying attention.”
For the first time in weeks, Anka’s careful mask slipped enough to show genuine emotion. Surprise, wonder, and something that looked dangerously close to gratitude warred across her features.
“You researched my hobbies,” she said slowly, as if testing the words to see if they made sense.
“I researched everything about you. Including the things your family tried to pretend didn’t exist.” Viktor opened his door, then paused. “There’s just one condition.”
The hope in her expression flickered, caution replacing wonder. “What condition?”
“I’m jumping with you.”
Anka’s mouth fell open, genuine shock replacing her careful composure. “You’re... what? Viktor, you’ve never skydived in your life. You can’t just decide to—”
“Already certified as of two hours ago.” He climbed out of the car, enjoying her stunned silence more than he’d enjoyed anything in weeks. “Emergency training, accelerated course, whatever it took. Davidson says I’m competent enough not to embarrass myself.”
She was still staring at him when he came around to open her door, her expression cycling through disbelief, amazement, and something softer that made his chest tighten in ways he didn’t want to examine.
