My hands begin to shake. Father—the man who taught me chess, told me bedtime stories in three languages, and shaped me into the analyst I’ve become—is discussing my potential execution with the casual indifference he’d use to order coffee.
I’m not his daughter in this scenario. I’m not even a person.
I’m a variable in an equation that can be eliminated if the solution requires it. What sort of father does that?
The laptop screen blurs as tears I didn’t realize I was shedding obscure the damning evidence. Everything makessense now—why I’ve been kept out of strategic planning sessions, why certain conversations stop when I enter a room, why Alexei has been looking at me with something approaching pity for weeks.
They all know. Father, Alexei, probably Misha, and others in the organization. They all know I’m walking blindly toward my own destruction while believing I’m building a relationship to strengthen the family. I’ve been such a fool.
The only person who doesn’t know is me.
And Rafa.
My phone buzzes again:Everything okay? You didn’t respond about dinner.
I stare at his message, torn between the urge to warn him immediately and the need to understand the full scope of what we’re dealing with. Because rushing into action without complete information is how people get killed.
Even people you love.
Especially people you love.
I force myself to type back:Rain check? Working on something important. Tomorrow?
His response is immediate:Of course. Let me know if you need anything.
The kindness in those simple words breaks something in my chest. When did Rafa Rosso become the person offering me unconditional support? When did the man I am supposed to manipulate become the one person I can trust completely?
And when did I become the daughter willing to betray everything for a chance at something real?
I spend the next three hours building an encrypted file containing every piece of evidence I’ve gathered. Financial records, communication logs, operational timelines, personnel assignments—everything needed to prove that the Petrov familyhas been planning systematic genocide under the cover of a political alliance.
When I’m finished, I have two choices: deliver this information to Rafa and his family, effectively signing my own father’s death warrant, or bury it and hope I can find some way to prevent the catastrophe without destroying everyone I’ve ever loved.
Looking at my reflection in the laptop screen, I see someone I barely recognize. Not the dutiful daughter or the useful tool or the unwitting weapon.
I see a woman who’s about to make the most critical choice of her life.
A choice between family loyalty and moral clarity.
A choice between the daughter I was raised to be and the person I want to become.
A choice between survival and love.
I close the laptop and reach for my phone, scrolling to Rafa’s contact information. My thumb hovers over the call button as I consider the words that will change everything once they’re spoken.
I know what my family is planning. I know what I’m supposed to be to you. And I know what I choose instead.
But first, I need to understand exactly how deep this conspiracy goes and who else might be caught in the crossfire when it all comes crashing down.
Because once I make this call, there’s no going back to being Vadim Petrov’s obedient daughter.
There’s only moving forward as someone willing to choose love over loyalty, truth over safety, and the future over the past.
Even if it costs me everything I used to be.
CHAPTER 25
Rafa
