"Please." Viktor gestured expansively. "Come in. All of you. I insist."
Cesare's hand found my back—steady, grounding. His voice dropped to ice. "Viktor. This is unexpected."
"Is it? I've been waiting for you since Bianca arrived. I knew you'd come. You're nothing if not predictable, Cesare."
The insult landed but Cesare didn't react. He stepped forward, his men fanning out behind him—Giulio and the security team, weapons visible but not raised. Yet.
"Let's not pretend this is a social call," Viktor continued, moving deeper into the penthouse. "You came for the documents. And perhaps for her." He gestured dismissively at Bianca.
I looked at my sister—bloodied, scared, used—and despite everything she'd done, I couldn't stop the words.
"What did you do to her?" The question left my mouth before I could stop them.
Viktor's cold blue eyes slid to me. "Me? Nothing. She arrived like this. Apparently, she made some poor choices in Prague. Crossed the wrong people. They sent a message."
Bianca lifted her head slightly at the sound of my voice. Our eyes met across the room.
Recognition. Hatred. Fear. All there in her battered face.
"Paola," she rasped. "You shouldn't have come."
"Neither should you."
Viktor laughed—genuinely amused. "Ah, sisters. Such complicated relationships. Shall we all sit? Discuss this like civilized people?"
"We're not here to discuss," Cesare said flatly. "Give us the documents and we leave. Peacefully."
"And if I refuse?"
Giulio's hand moved fractionally toward his weapon. Viktor's guards responded immediately—weapons drawn, aimed. Two more men appeared from some other room beyond the shadows.
A Mexican standoff. Four of Cesare's men. Four of Viktor's. Too many guns in too small a space.
The smell of gun oil and expensive cologne mixed with something metallic. Blood, probably. Bianca's or someone else's.
"Please," Viktor said, unperturbed by the drawn weapons. "Let's not be hasty. I have a proposition."
"I'm not interested in your propositions," Cesare replied.
"You should be. Because what Bianca brought me is... devastating. For you. For your wife. For your entire organization."
He walked to a bar cart, poured himself vodka. The casual confidence was more intimidating than any threat.
"What's in the documents?" I asked.
Viktor smiled. "Why don't we ask Bianca? After all, she's the one who compiled them."
All eyes turned to Bianca, who'd managed to sit up straighter despite obvious pain.
"Tell them,milaya," Viktor encouraged. "Tell your sister what you sold me."
Bianca's split lip curled into something like a smile. "Insurance. Proof. Everything I needed to destroy the perfect life you stole from me."
"I didn't steal anything." My voice shook with anger. "Youdrugged me. You abandoned me. You destroyed your own life."
Her features twisted, so familiar that I knew right then what she was feeling. A cocktail of guilt and anger. "You were always the victim, weren't you? Poor Paola. Forgotten Paola. Well, now you'll wish you'd stayed forgotten."
Viktor set down his glass. "The documents contain several interesting items. Bank statements showing suspicious transfers from Lombardo family accounts. Emails between Giovanni Lombardo and certain... unsavory individuals. And most damaging—"
