The worst part was that it didn’t matter now. Understanding Adrian’s manipulation didn’t erase the years of pain Viktor had endured because of her choices. It didn’t change the fact that she’d proven herself untrustworthy, that she’d chosen coercion over communication when their relationship had faced its first real test.
Even if she told Viktor the truth now, even if she explained about Adrian’s threats and her own terrified stupidity, it wouldn’t repair the fundamental breach of trust. She’d still be the woman who’d run when things got difficult, who’d prioritized her own safety over their relationship’s survival.
The realization should have broken her. Instead, it crystallized something that had been building since their wedding night—a determination to stop being the passive recipient of other people’s choices and start making some of her own.
Anka wiped her eyes and reached for her phone, scrolling through contacts until she found the number she needed. Raya answered on the third ring, her voice thick with sleep and confusion.
“Anka? It’s past midnight. Are you—”
“I need to ask you something,” Anka interrupted, her voice steadier than she’d expected. “When I disappeared for those hours after fighting with Adrian, when I told you all I’d been kidnapped—did you believe me?”
Silence stretched across the connection, long enough that Anka wondered if the call had dropped. When Raya finally spoke, her voice was careful in ways that confirmed Anka’s growing suspicions.
“Why are you asking about that now?”
“Because I’m starting to think a lot of things I accepted as truth might have been lies designed to keep me compliant.” Anka gripped the phone tighter, knuckles white with tension. “Did Adrian ever tell you what really happened that day?”
Another pause, followed by a sigh that carried years of suppressed knowledge. “He said you needed to learn that actions have consequences. That letting you think you’d been in real danger would make you more careful in the future.”
The words hit Anka like physical blows, each revelation worse than the last. The kidnapping that had left her terrified of venturing out alone, that had given Adrian additional justification for restricting her movements—her own brother had orchestrated it. Another manipulation, another lie designed to keep her scared and dependent.
“How long have you known?” Anka asked, surprised by how calm she sounded when everything inside her felt like it was falling apart.
“Since it happened. Adrian told me because he needed someone to help maintain the story if you ever questioned the details.” Raya’s voice cracked with what sounded like guilt. “I’m sorry, Anka. I should have told you years ago, but he said it wasfor your own protection, that you needed to understand how dangerous the world could be for someone like you.”
Someone like her. Female, sheltered, too naive to recognize when she was being systematically undermined by the people who claimed to love her most.
“Thank you for telling me now,” Anka said, though honesty felt like swallowing glass. “I need to go.”
She ended the call before Raya could respond, before her sister could offer explanations or apologies that wouldn’t change the fundamental reality of their family’s dysfunction. The kidnapping, Viktor’s supposed insignificance, probably dozens of other incidents, and claims that had shaped her understanding of the world—all lies constructed to keep her in line.
Anka set the phone aside and stared at the ceiling, feeling something shift inside her chest. The grief was still there, along with rage at her own stupidity and fury at the people who’d manipulated her so expertly. But underneath those emotions, something else was growing—a determination to stop being the victim of other people’s schemes.
She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t undo the years of pain Viktor had endured or repair the trust she’d shattered when she’d chosen fear over faith. But she could stop accepting the limitations other people tried to impose on her future.
Viktor wanted revenge? He could have it. He’d married her to make her pay for disappearing from his life, and she deserved whatever punishment he devised. But she was done being passive in her own destruction. If he were going to break her heart again, he’d have to do it while she was fighting back instead of simply enduring whatever he chose to inflict.
The decision settled in her bones like steel, reinforcing the parts of her personality that had been systematically dismantled over the years. She’d been the girl who’d snuck out to meet forbidden lovers, who’d pursued dangerous hobbies despite family disapproval, who’d craved freedom more than safety. That girl was still there, buried under layers of manipulation and learned helplessness, but not destroyed.
It was time to remember who she’d been before other people had convinced her that being small was the same thing as being safe.
Anka climbed out of bed and walked to her window, looking out at the grounds of Viktor’s estate. Tomorrow, she’d continue working in his office, continue playing the role of dutiful wife who was grateful for whatever scraps of attention he chose to offer. But underneath the performance, she’d be planning.
She’d spent four years believing that loving Viktor meant accepting his loss. Now she understood that loving him meant fighting for the possibility of something real, even if fighting meant risking another devastating rejection.
Viktor thought he was orchestrating her destruction, thought he could control the pace and intensity of whatever revenge he’d devised. But he’d made a crucial miscalculation—he’d given her a taste of who she used to be, had reminded her what it felt like to be seen and valued for her authentic self instead of the diminished version her family preferred.
That had been a mistake. Because the woman who’d jumped out of an aircraft today, who’d felt genuinely alive for the first time in years, wasn’t going to quietly accept whatever fate he had planned for her.
She was going to fight back. And Viktor Nikolai was about to discover that the girl who’d once disappeared without explanation had grown into a woman who refused to be dismissed again.
Chapter 18 - Viktor
The blood on his knuckles had dried to rust-colored flakes by the time Viktor returned to the office, but the satisfaction of watching Nick Barresi’s face rearrange itself under his fists still burned bright in his chest. The Italian had made the mistake of asking about Anka again during their follow-up meeting, had suggested with that oily smile that perhaps Viktor’s “assistant” might be available for private consultation on some overseas ventures.
Viktor had explained, with his hands, exactly how unavailable Anka was for anything involving Nick Barresi.
The cleanup had taken longer than the beating itself—disposing of witnesses, ensuring Nick understood that his next inquiry about Viktor’s wife would result in significantly more than a broken nose, managing the delicate political fallout of assaulting a business associate. But it had been worth every minute of complication when Nick had finally slithered away, bloody and humiliated and thoroughly educated about boundaries.
