The lesson was delivered with characteristic Nikolai efficiency. By the time Viktor arrived home that evening, Adrian’s business partners had already withdrawn from their agreement, citing regulatory concerns and timeline complications that made the venture untenable. Another victory in Viktor’s campaign, another step toward ensuring Adrian understood the cost of his past choices.
Viktor expected to find Anka in the library or the kitchen, pursuing one of the quiet activities that had become her routine since their confrontation about his methods. Instead, he found her in their bedroom, methodically folding clothes into suitcases with the kind of focused efficiency that suggested desperate purpose.
“What are you doing?” The question came out rougher than Viktor had intended, carrying panic he hadn’t known he was feeling.
Anka looked up from the suitcase, her face set in lines of devastating finality. “Packing.”
The simple word hit Viktor hard, rewriting his understanding of the evening’s events with brutal clarity. This wasn’t about temporary anger or the need for space to process difficult emotions. This was departure, abandonment, the kind of leaving that suggested permanence.
“Where are you going?” Viktor moved into the room, his hands clenching into fists as he fought the urge to physically prevent her from continuing her preparations.
“Away from here. Away from this.” Anka gestured toward the room, toward him, encompassing everything their marriage had become. “I know what you did to Adrian’s shipping deal. Marcus called to gloat about regulatory complications, apparently thinking I’d share his enthusiasm for your victories.”
The betrayal of his own intelligence network felt insignificant compared to the devastation of watching Anka systematically pack away the life they’d been building together. “One business deal doesn’t justify—”
“It’s not about one deal,” Anka interrupted, her voice carrying the kind of exhausted finality that suggested she’d reached the end of her capacity for disappointment. “It’s about what that deal represents. You promised me you were done with revenge, that you understood Adrian had paid enough. Then you turned around and destroyed something that mattered to him just because you could.”
Viktor wanted to argue, wanted to explain the justice in his actions and the necessity of ensuring consequences followed choices. But the words felt inadequate in the face of Anka’s quiet devastation, her obvious recognition that their marriage had become something she could no longer tolerate.
“You can’t leave,” he said instead, the statement carrying desperation he hadn’t known he possessed.
Anka’s smile was sad and knowing, the expression of someone who’d finally accepted painful truths about the people she’d tried to love. “I already have, Viktor. The moment you chose revenge over us, you lost me. Everything since then has just been the process of accepting what you’d already decided was more important.”
She closed the suitcase with deliberate care, her movements suggesting someone who’d made peace withdifficult decisions. When she looked at him again, Viktor saw finality in her expression that made his chest constrict with panic.
“This doesn’t have to end everything,” he said, though even he wasn’t sure what he was offering.
“Yes, it does.” Anka moved toward the door, her suitcases in hand and her posture suggesting someone who’d already begun the process of moving on. “Because some choices can’t be undone, and some trust can’t be rebuilt. You made your choice, Viktor. Now I’m making mine.”
Before Viktor could formulate a response, before he could find words that might bridge the gap between his need for justice and her need for peace, Anka was gone. The sound of her footsteps faded down the hallway, followed by the distinctive rumble of a car engine starting in the driveway.
Viktor stood in their bedroom, surrounded by the remnants of a life they’d been trying to build together, and finally understood what Matvei had been trying to tell him. Some victories cost more than they were worth, and some revenge extracted prices that couldn’t be calculated until the damage was already done.
But understanding came too late. Anka was gone, taking with her any chance that justice and love might coexist in the same space.
Chapter 21 - Anka
The guest house Irina had prepared felt like a sanctuary wrapped in betrayal. Anka sat on the edge of the unfamiliar bed, staring at her hastily packed suitcases and wondering how many times a heart could break before it simply stopped trying to heal itself.
Three hours had passed since she’d walked out of Viktor’s mansion. Three hours since she’d chosen her family over the man she’d never stopped loving, and the weight of that decision pressed against her chest like a physical ache.
Her phone buzzed with another message from Viktor—the seventh since she’d left. She didn’t read it. Couldn’t. Not when her resolve felt as fragile as spun glass, and his words had always been her weakness.
A soft knock interrupted her spiral into self-recrimination. “Anka? It’s Adrian.”
She almost didn’t answer. Part of her wanted to tell him to go away, to leave her alone with the mess they’d all created together. But Adrian was still her brother, still someone she’d protected by walking away from everything she wanted.
“Come in.”
Adrian entered with the kind of careful movements reserved for approaching wounded animals. His face carried guilt and exhaustion in equal measure, the expression of someone who’d finally understood the true cost of his past choices.
“I’m sorry,” he said without preamble, settling into the chair across from her bed. “For all of it. For what I did four yearsago, for not trusting you to make your own decisions, for letting my fear destroy your happiness.”
The words should have felt vindicating. She’d waited years to hear Adrian acknowledge his mistakes, to admit that his interference had caused damage that extended far beyond a simple broken relationship. Instead, the apology felt hollow, insufficient in light of the magnitude of what they’d all lost.
“Sorry doesn’t give me back four years,” Anka said, her voice carrying weariness that went bone-deep. “Sorry doesn’t undo Viktor’s revenge or fix what we’ve become.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Adrian leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees in a gesture that reminded her of the boy he’d been before power and responsibility had hardened him into someone she barely recognized. “But maybe we can find a way to move forward anyway.”
