"He became obsessed with me." The words come out flat, clinical. "At first, it seemed like professional admiration. He was always asking about my methods and my code. But then it escalated."
My jaw tightens. "Escalated how?"
"He started leaving gifts: flowers, jewelry, poetry written in code. When I refused them, he became... persistent. Invasive." She shudders slightly. "He hacked my personal systems, my phone, my email. He knew things about my life that he shouldn't have known."
"And your father did nothing?"
"My father didn't know the extent of it. I handled it myself or tried to." Her eyes meet mine, and I see echoes of old pain there. "I set up counter-surveillance, digital traps, and tried to document his intrusions. But Durov was clever. He always stayed just within the bounds of plausible deniability."
"Until he didn't."
"Until he started stealing." She pulls away from my touch, immediately making me miss the contact. "Small amounts at first, from accounts I monitored. When I traced it back to him, I thought it was about getting my attention. Forcing me to engage with him."
"But it wasn't."
"No. It was preparation." She moves to the window, staring out at the city below. "When I finally gathered enough evidence to bring to my father, we discovered he'd been systematically embezzling for months. Millions of dollars, routed through complex systems, it took weeks to unravel them all."
"Your father exiled him."
"My father ordered him killed." Her voice is matter-of-fact. "Or so I thought. I assumed it was handled, that Yegor was eliminated like any other threat to the family."
The implications crash over me. If Yegor is alive, if he's been planning his revenge for five years...
"Kira, if Vito finds out a Russian has been draining our accounts—especially one with a personal vendetta against your family, he'll assume your father is behind it. He'll move against the Petrovs immediately."
She turns from the window, her expression grim. "I know."
"The engagement, the alliance, everything we've worked toward..." I run a hand through my hair, calculating possibilities. "It all falls apart. Our families go to war."
"And we're both caught in the crossfire," she finishes quietly.
The weight of our situation settles between us. Two people bound by an arranged marriage, now harboring information that could destroy both our families.
"There might be a way," I say slowly. "If we can get the money back before anyone realizes it was taken... if we can deal with Yegor quietly..."
"You'd do that?" She studies my face with intense scrutiny. "You'd keep this from your brother? Risk his trust to protect my family?"
The question cuts deeper than she probably intends. She's asking me to choose between family loyalty and... what? Her? Our fragile alliance? The possibility of something more?
"Yes," I answer without hesitation, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice.
"Why?"
Because I can't bear the thought of you caught in a war between our families. Because the idea of losing you before I understand what's happening between us feels like losing something vital. Because you matter to me in ways I'm not ready to examine.
"Because Yegor is playing us all," I say instead. "He wants our families to destroy each other. Giving him that satisfaction feels like letting him win."
She nods slowly, accepting my explanation even though we both know it's incomplete.
"It won't be easy," she warns. "Yegor is dangerous. Not just because of his technical skills, but because he's unpredictable. Obsessive. He won't let go of old grudges."
"Then we'll have to be smarter than he is."
"We?"
"You think I'm letting you face him alone?" The protective instinct that surges through me is immediate and fierce. "Not happening, Kira."
A faint smile crosses her lips—the first genuine expression I've seen from her this morning. "I can take care of myself."
