And me? I pace restlessly, back and forth, the polished floor cold beneath my shoes. My hands clench into fists, unclench, pace again. Waiting. Waiting for Sebastian. Waiting for news I don’t know if I’m ready to hear.
The city outside my windows hums with life, oblivious to the chaos that is tearing through my home. And yet, every instinct in me tells me that this isn’t over. Not even close.
I can’t stop thinking about her. Vivian. The way she froze. The way her body pressed into mine. Safe, for now, but how long before this nightmare finds her again?
I pace. And I wait.
Finally, the elevator beeps as Sebastian arrives. I punch in the code that’ll bring him up, muscles tense. The doors slide open, and there he is.
Tall, broad, dark auburn hair catching the light, green eyes sharp and calm, hands ink-stained from sketches. Sebastian. Seeing him in person after five years makes my chest tighten. Relief, somehow, that he’s fine. I haven’t let myself feel it in years, but seeing him—he’s alive. Safe. And for once, my heart softens just a fraction.
“Your hands are covered in paint,” I say, noting the stains.
He shrugs, almost amused. “I was sketching before I came.” Then he wraps an arm around my shoulders, easy, like no time has passed. “How’s my little brother? I can’t believe you went ahead and got married.”
I roll my eyes, irritation masking the relief. “You’re here to help me save my wife, not lecture me.”
He snorts, a laugh teasing, almost indulgent. “Why? I didn’t tell you to get married. Having a wife is like having a constant liability breathing down your neck. Freedom is underrated.”
I ignore him and head for the study. Niko and Lev are already there via video call, and they greet Sebastian warmly. Light banter fills the room—teasing, sarcastic quips—but I barely hear it. My mind is focused. The real work starts now. But I let them have their moment.
Sebastian looks around, taking in the setup, the monitors, the files strewn across the desk. “Looks like chaos,” he murmurs, smirking at me. “Reminds me of my studio.”
“Welcome to my life,” I mutter.
He grins, sharp and knowing. “Then let’s fix it.”
“Tell me what you have,” I demand, trying to keep my voice steady despite the gnawing tension in my chest.
The room falls silent. Even Niko and Lev, watching via video feed, pause their chatter. All eyes are on Sebastian.
He leans against the desk, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “I watched the footage,” he begins, voice calm but precise. “It was blurry, but I spent all night enhancing it. Identifying movements, tracing shadows, cross-referencing known associates….” He pauses, letting the suspense build.
“And?” I snap, pacing like I haven’t in years.
“One of your shooters,” he says finally, “is Pavel Koval. Former money launderer. His family business collapsed shortly after your return from university. He has motive. Connections. And now, he wants to send a message.”
I feel my stomach drop. “A message to me?” I growl. “To Vivian?”
Sebastian nods. “Exactly. He doesn’t just want to hurt you—he wants her out of the way too. Collateral. You both are targets.”
My fists clench. “So the attack last night…it wasn’t random.”
“Not in the slightest,” Sebastian says flatly. “Everything was calculated. He chose the press conference because it would humiliate you both, destabilize your public image, and hit where it hurts—your empire, your family.”
I run a hand through my hair, chest tight. “And he’s smart. He planned it knowing we’d be out in public, knowing there would be cameras….”
Sebastian tilts his head, studying me. “Smart, yes. Dangerous, yes. But not untouchable.”
He hesitates, just for a breath. Long enough for my pulse to spike.
“I found something else.”
My patience disintegrates. “What?” I snap, sharper than intended.
He exhales. “The shooters didn’t force their way in. They used an access code. A valid one. And that code is tied to a Laurent-owned construction firm.”
Silence slams into the room.
