I finally step out of the shower, water dripping down my back, and wrap a towel around myself. I have to navigate the world today without him by my side. And for the first time in a long time, that thought terrifies me. I realize that I may have gotten used to Dimitri by my side.
I know he said stay inside, but I’ll be damned if I let him control my life even in his absence. Something about this quiet morning feels like the calm before a storm, and I’m tired of being left in the dark.
After breakfast, I slip quietly from the kitchen, careful to avoid Kyle, and make my way to the hall. My heart hammers against my ribs as I punch in the code to Dimitri’s office. I saw him enter it last night. We had sex in here, before he carried me to the bedroom.
The door slides open, revealing the study in all its imposing glory. Floor-to-ceiling windows, dark wood panels, the faint scent of expensive leather and cigars lingering in the air.
I pause at the threshold, taking it all in. This is his sanctuary, the command center where he plots and calculates. And today, I need to step inside it, even if it feels like stepping into enemy territory.
I move carefully, eyes scanning the polished desk, the neatly stacked folders, the laptop left open from last night. My fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating. Every file could be a lead, every folder a clue about the attacks. My pulse quickens, but I push the nerves aside. I need answers, and Dimitri isn’t here to stop me.
I slide into the chair, leaning over the open laptop. Screens filled with surveillance footage, reports, and coded emails flash before me. I click through, looking for any connection to the shooters, any hint of who is orchestrating thischaos. My pulse is loud in my ears, matching the frantic scroll of my fingers across the trackpad.
He said my family has a hand in this—and I believe him. Wholeheartedly. But I need something concrete. What exactly is my family doing? What do they have to gain? And why does Dimitri look at me sometimes like he’s holding back a truth sharp enough to cut us both?
I keep digging.
That’s when I see it.
A folder tucked almost too neatly between surveillance reports on the desk. It’s titled Koval Operations – Active Leads. The folder is sealed.
Which means Dimitri hasn’t opened it yet. Or…he didn’t want to.
My breath stutters. My finger hesitates over the file. I shouldn’t open this. But I do.
The file unseals with a soft click, and I browse the contents quickly. PDFs. Scans. Transaction logs. Names.
I read the first document.
And my world tilts.
My mother’s maiden name. Dubois.
Not adjacent. Not peripheral.
Owner of the account receiving and sending payments to Koval’s network.
The same Koval who tried to kill me.
The same Koval who bombed Dimitri’s warehouse.
The same Koval who left a note promising Dimitri’s death.
And here—on black-and-white payment slips—my mother’s neat, unmistakable signature authorizing transfers.
Before I can process anything further, the office door opens.
Sylvester stops in the doorway, freezing when he sees me holding the file. I brace myself for anger, but instead, he steps inside slowly, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“Did you find something?” he asks, voice too calm. “Why do you look so shocked?”
I nod and hand him the file with trembling fingers. He scans the pages, frowning when he spots my mother’s maiden name tied to the bank accounts linking the Laurents to the attacks.
“I don’t understand,” Sylvester says. “If anything, this puts your family under suspicion. How does this matter?”
“Because,” I say, voice thin and shaking, “my mother has never been involved in the financial side of anything. Ever. And she hasn’t used her maiden name in ages. Someone is using her identity. Someone is using her as a cover.”
And saying it out loud makes the room tilt.
