I slip outside through the side entrance, shoulders squared, arms crossed lightly around myself as I move through the garden. The shadows stretch long in the moonlight, but my path is clear. At the far end, a black car waits, silent and patient.
Tonight, everything shifts. And Sebastian? He has no idea.
The car door opens before I even reach it.
Viktor Mikhailov steps out. Tailored suit. Deceptive eyes. A smile that doesn’t touch the sharpness behind them.
“Sienna Roth,” he drawls, letting the syllables hang in the night air. “Mrs. Rusnak now, I hear. Congratulations.”
I don’t return the smile. My arms stay crossed. “You said you had something for me. Hurry up.”
Viktor circles me slowly, predatorily, as if measuring prey that isn’t nearly as fragile as expected. “Your husband’s…infamy isn’t just in art and forgery. He has enemies. Powerful ones. People who want him exposed. Removed. I’m simply the one polite enough to ask if you’d like to help.”
“I’m not helping you hurt him,” I say, voice cold, controlled. “That’s non-negotiable. I will not hurt Sebastian.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Did I ask you to hurt him? No. I said expose him.”
He produces an envelope, thick and heavy, sealed with deep red wax. He holds it out, a gift and a threat rolled into one.
I take it without opening it. My fingers flex over the smooth surface. “What is this?”
“Insurance,” he says softly. “For you. For that heart he broke. A way to balance the scales.”
My jaw tightens. I hate how well he sees through me. Hate that he uses the very wound I have fought to seal shut.
But beneath the ice, a flicker of something else stirs. Opportunity. Advantage. Leverage I can wield without breaking.
“You claimed you only wanted information,” I say carefully, voice steady. “Anything outside that, count me out.”
Viktor steps closer, voice dropping, intimate and dangerous. “I want what’s owed to me. You want what was stolen from you. Our goals intersect beautifully.”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“But,” he adds, slyly, like he’s letting me in on a secret, “if you decide you want something more permanent, more…final…consider this my offer.”
I stiffen. “I’m not killing anyone.”
Viktor laughs softly, amused, almost like I’m naïve. “Who said you had to kill him? Sometimes destruction is accomplished with ink, not bullets.”
He steps back, melting into the shadow of the car, his presence receding like a phantom.
“We’ll speak again soon.”
The engine hums to life, and the car disappears into the night, leaving me alone in the cold garden.
The envelope burns in my hand like a curse. My bravado fades, replaced by a hollow, uneasy weight. Why did I agree to this meeting?
I take a deep breath, but it does little to settle the storm rising in my chest. I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to settle the storm rising in my chest.
I shouldn’t have met him. I shouldn’t have taken this envelope.
But I did.
And now the plan I’ve nourished for years feels like a monster growing teeth. My fingers tighten around the envelopeas I turn back toward the mansion. I slip it between the folds of my dress, hiding it where no one will see.
Through the tall windows, I see him. Sebastian. Laughing at something Dimitri said, hands shoved in his pockets, posture relaxed, completely unaware of the storm circling him.
Anger flares at the sight of him looking so at ease. As if he never shattered me. As if my pain is ancient history while his life marches on unbothered.
