“You buried someone,” Dimitri corrects coldly. “Not my brother.”
He advances the footage, showing Alexei moving through the mall with ease. Then more footage of different locations and different dates all within the past three weeks.
Alexei, undeniably alive.
“This is a trick,” someone mutters. “CGI or?—”
“It’s not.” Dimitri pulls up more screens. “The dental records from the body we buried don’t match Alexei’s records. Financial activity continued in his offshore accounts after his supposed death. And Konstantin” —he displays phone records— “made 247 calls to a burner phone over the past three months. A phone that pinged from every location Alexei was spotted.”
He walks them through everything else to prove his point.
Bank transfers showing Konstantin funding the offshore accounts. Forensic reports showing inconsistencies in the autopsy. Security footage of Alexei visiting Konstantin’s estate just last week.
The evidence is damning and irrefutable.
“The entire war,” Dimitri says, his voice hard, “was orchestrated by Konstantin Volkov.Hehelped Alexei fake his death.Heframed the Ashfords for murder.Hemanipulated both families into conflict that would eliminate anyone who stood in his way.”
“Why?” someone from the Volkov side asks. “Why would Konstantin do that?”
“Control.” Dimitri’s hand moves to my shoulder protectively and every eye swivels to track that movement. “Through Alexei and through my wife. The plan was to eliminate me, install Alexei as the new Volkov head—how they were going to re-introduce him is beyond me—and control the Ashfords through Vera. Then there would be an heir with both family bloodlines, with Konstantin pulling the strings behind the scenes.”
The room descends into chaos again, but it’s different this time. It’s not Volkovs versus Ashfords, but confusion and slowly dawning horror.
I watch my father’s face go through shock, confusion, and then rage as everything finally pieces together.
“You’re telling me,” he says slowly, a vein jumping in his forehead, “that Konstantin Volkov started this war and Alexei faked his death, all to control both families?”
Dimitri nods.
My father’s stare bores into me, and I see guilt and pain in his eyes that makes my throat swell with emotion.
“And I gave you to him,” he says, voice cracking. “To what I thought was a monster to save us from a war that was manufactured.”
I bite my lip so hard, I taste coppery blood. “Dad, no.”
“I handed you over like property.” He’s standing now, knuckles white on the table. “I—Inegotiatedyou away to save the family from a threat that didn’t exist.” He runs a shaking hand over his face as if he can’t believe what he’s saying.
“You didn’t know,” I say quietly, wanting to stop him from his self recrimination (even if itisslightly deserved). “None of us did. That’s what Konstantin counted on.”
My father looks pained. “Still?—”
“We wereallmanipulated,” Dimitri says, his voice gentle. “Konstantin knew exactly what levers to pull. Vincent, you believed you were protecting your family and doing what was necessary. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
Dad sinks back into his chair like someone cut his strings.
The meeting continues for hours as Dimitri presents every piece of evidence. Some people refuse to believe what they’re seeing. Konstantin has loyalists, people who’ve known him for decades, but the evidence keeps mounting.
And then Dimitri plays an audio recording.
“This is from last night,” he says. “From the attack on my estate.”
I go very still. I didn’t know he had audio. Then again, the man is paranoid. Of course he has audio surveillance.
Alexei’s voice fills the room, and it’s undeniably him. A shiver runs down my spine. Dimitri notices and places a warm, large hand on my thigh.
“Vera? It’s me. Open up.”
My own voice, muffled through the door.“Fuck off. I’m not opening this door.”
