The gates opened with mechanical precision.
The number of men protecting the property hadn’t decreased since Ruslan’s arrest.
If anything —
It had increased.
Petros had taken control of operations with quiet efficiency.
Keeping the empire alive while its king sat behind bars.
Shipments continued. Meetings continued.
Money continued flowing.
Power didn’t disappear. It adapted.
I saw patrol vehicles moving along the perimeter.
Men positioned at rooftops.
Armed guards stationed at entrances.
I turned a blind eye.
As long as none of it touched Yannis —
I didn’t interfere.
After betraying Ruslan. After sending him to prison for life. I had expected retaliation. Immediate eviction.
A silent sniper in the dark.
Or at least a lawyer sending formal notices stripping me of access.
Instead —
On the day of sentencing —
When the judge had declared life without parole and slammed the gavel down —
Ruslan had turned his head slowly.
He had looked straight at me across the courtroom.
His wrists shackled.
His body restrained.
And he had mouthed three words.
Stay with Yannis.
No anger. No threats. No promises of revenge.
Just that.
Later — through his lawyer — the arrangement became official.
