“Shut up,” I snap, unable to contain my fury any longer. “Can’t you see you’re hurting them? They’re your children, not pawns in whatever sick game you’re playing.”
“My children?” Irina laughs, the sound hollow and bitter. “I didn’t want children. I was 22! I wanted to travel, to study art in Paris. But duty called, isn’t that right, Yelena? ‘It is your responsibility to provide heirs,’ you told me. ‘It is what a Belov wife does.’”
Lev makes a small, wounded sound that cuts straight through me. Nikolai’s arm tightens around his brother’s shoulders, his face a mask of controlled pain.
“I said shut up,” I repeat, my voice shaking with rage. “They can hear you, you selfish bitch.”
Tatiana’s hand connects with my cheek, the force of the slap snapping my head back. Stars explode behind my eyes, the taste of copper flooding my mouth.
“You don’t get to speak,” she hisses. “You’re nothing. A convenience. A contract. If you open your mouth again, I’ll put a bullet in it. Is that clear?”
I glare at her, refusing to show fear despite the throbbing pain in my face and the growing terror in my chest. Not for myself but for the children. For Julian and Lila, who never asked to be part of this nightmare. For Alya, Lev, and Nikolai, whose own mother just confirmed their worst fears—that they were never wanted, never loved.
“What exactly is your plan here, Tatiana?” Anatoly asks, his voice steady despite the trickle of blood from his split lip. “You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with this.”
“Get away?” Tatiana laughs. “I already have. Your precious fortress has fallen. Your heir is walking into a trap as we speak. Everything you’ve built is crumbling, Anatoly, and I’m the one holding the hammer.”
Beside me, Elena shifts slightly. From the corner of my eye, I see her wrists working behind her back, subtle movements that the guards, focused on the drama unfolding before them, haven’t noticed.
Elena always carries a knife—a small, elegant switchblade her father gave her for protection years ago. She keeps it tucked into her boot, snug against her ankle, hidden beneath the hem of her jeans. A detail I’d forgotten until now, when I see her subtly shifting her weight, foot twisting just slightly.
How the hell is she going to get it out? With our hands bound, it’s nearly impossible. But then I see it—the way she angles her heel against the floor, using the edge of the tile to nudge theblade free. The handle slides up just enough for her to hook her fingers around it, eyes fixed straight ahead as if nothing’s happening.
She catches my eye, a flicker of fierce determination flashing in her gaze. I nod, my pulse thundering.
“You won’t win,” I say to Tatiana, deliberately drawing her attention. “Konstantin will—”
“Konstantin will what?” she sneers, stepping closer. “Save you? His precious new wife? The woman carrying his child?”
The room goes silent, a collective intake of breath. Anatoly’s eyes widen slightly, darting between me and Yelena, who remains stoically silent, already privy to this secret.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Tatiana looks triumphantly at Anatoly. “Your son knocked up his contract bride. But don’t worry—I’ll take care of that little problem.”
Panic flares in my chest, not for myself, but for my unborn child. For the tiny life that has become the center of my world without anyone knowing—anyone except Yelena and, apparently, Tatiana.
“Nyet,” Irina says suddenly, stepping forward. “That wasn’t the deal. You said I would get my payment—five million. Where is it?”
“The deal has changed,” Tatiana cuts her off. “Did you really think I’d pay you after you failed to keep Konstantin distracted? You’re as disposable as she is.” She gestures dismissively at me.
Irina’s face twists with rage. “You promised me money! I didn’t come back for these children—I came back for what I’m owed!”
“Of course you did,” Tatiana says, as if speaking to a child. “You never cared about them. Only yourself. That’s why you were so easy to manipulate.”
The tension in the room shifts, fractures. One of Tatiana’s men mutters something in Russian, glancing nervously at his watch.
“We have a breach,” he says in rapid Russian. “They’ve entered the compound.”
Tatiana’s head snaps up. “What? From where?”
“Unknown entry point,” the man replies, switching to accented English. “Three teams. Heavily armed.”
“How is that possible?” Tatiana hisses. “We disabled all security protocols!”
The man speaks into his radio, listening intently before turning back to Tatiana.
“Mr. Volkov wants us out now. He says this wasn’t the agreement—a direct assault wasn’t part of the plan.”
Tatiana’s face tightens with rage. “Mikhail can’t back out now.”
