Anka laughed, the sound bitter and completely devoid of humor. “Move forward? Adrian, I just left my husband because he can’t stop trying to destroy you. There’s no moving forward from that.”
“There could be.” Adrian’s voice carried conviction she hadn’t expected. “Viktor’s anger isn’t really about the business deals or the revenge. It’s about believing for four years that you’d abandoned him, that what you’d shared meant nothing to you.”
“I know that.” The admission tore from her throat like broken glass. “I know exactly what I cost him by leaving the way I did. But knowing doesn’t fix anything, and understanding doesn’t make his choices less destructive.”
Adrian was quiet for a moment, studying her face with the kind of focused attention that had always made him dangerous in negotiations. When he spoke again, his words carried weight that suggested careful consideration had been given.
“He loves you.”
The simple statement shocked Anka, rewriting her recollection of the conversation with devastating clarity. “That’s not—love doesn’t justify what he’s been doing to you.”
“Doesn’t it?” Adrian’s smile was rueful and knowing. “If someone had taken you from me the way I took you from him, I’d have burned their entire world to ashes. Viktor’s shown remarkable restraint, all things considered.”
Anka wanted to argue, to insist that love required forgiveness, trust, and the ability to prioritize their relationship over past grievances. But she’d seen the devastation in Viktor’s eyes when she’d told him the truth about their breakup, had witnessed the way four years of believing himself betrayed had carved hollow spaces in his soul that might never heal properly.
“Love should be enough,” she said finally, though even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“Should be, yes. But people aren’t perfect, Anka. They’re messy and flawed, and sometimes they make terrible choices when they’re in pain.” Adrian reached across the space between them, covering her hands with his own. “The question is whether you’re willing to fight for something imperfect or if you’d rather walk away and spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been possible.”
Before Anka could formulate a response, before she could process the implications of Adrian’s unexpected support for her marriage, her phone rang with a call from Raya.
“Where are you?” Raya’s voice carried panic that made Anka’s blood run cold. “We tried to get home, but there were cars following us, and now we can’t find Sofie, and I think something’s wrong—”
The connection cut off mid-sentence, leaving Anka staring at her phone with growing horror. Her sisters were in trouble, possibly kidnapped, and she was sitting in a guest house, drowning in self-pity instead of being available when they needed her.
“What is it?” Adrian asked, apparently reading the terror in her expression.
“Raya and Sofie. They’re in trouble.” Anka was already reaching for her keys, her mind calculating distances and possibilities with the kind of desperate efficiency that came from genuine fear. “They snuck out to have fun, but someone was following them and now—”
Her phone rang again, this time with an unknown number that made her stomach clench with dread. She answered without hesitation.
“You want to see your sisters again?” The voice was unfamiliar, carrying the kind of casual menace that suggested violence was a form of entertainment rather than a necessity. “Then you’ll do exactly what I tell you.”
Anka’s world narrowed to the sound of breathing on the other end of the line and the terrible certainty that her worst nightmare was unfolding in real time. “What do you want?”
“You. Alone. There’s a warehouse on Pier Seventeen—be there in one hour, or your sisters start losing pieces they’ll miss.”
The line went dead, leaving Anka staring at her phone with a paralyzing terror that made rational thought impossible. Raya and Sofie were somewhere in the hands of people who viewed violence as leverage, and she was the price of their safety.
“Absolutely not,” Adrian said before she could speak, apparently reading her intentions in her expression. “You’re notgoing anywhere alone, and you’re definitely not walking into an obvious trap.”
“They have my sisters.” The words came out flat and final, carrying the weight of decisions that couldn’t be negotiated or reasoned away. “I won’t let them get hurt because of me.”
“This isn’t about you.” Adrian moved between her and the door, his posture suggesting he was prepared to physically prevent her from leaving. “This is about whoever took them trying to use your family as leverage for something else entirely.”
Anka pushed past him with strength born of desperation and terror. “I don’t care what it’s about. I care about Raya and Sofie coming home safe.”
“Then let me call Matvei—”
“No.” She spun to face him, her expression carrying finality that brooked no argument. “One hour, Adrian. They gave me one hour, and if I show up with backup or reinforcements, my sisters die. I won’t risk that.”
Adrian stared at her for a moment that stretched like eternity, his face cycling through calculations and possibilities that all led to the same terrible conclusion. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“At least tell me where you’re going.”
“Pier Seventeen.” Anka grabbed her jacket, her movements efficient despite the terror coursing through her veins. “If I don’t come back—”
“You will come back.” Adrian’s voice carried conviction she desperately wanted to believe. “All three of you will come back.”
