I’m about to respond when his phone buzzes sharply on the nightstand. He glances at it, and the line of his jaw tightens.
I frown. “What is it?”
He swipes the screen and reads quickly. “Timofey just texted…Samantha confessed a name.”
My stomach tightens. “Who?”
He looks up, meeting my eyes with a gravity that makes my blood run cold. “Anya.”
Chapter 18 – Mike
I always underestimated Anya’s ambition.
I dismissed her as jealous, reckless, the type to act out of emotion. But I never considered that her attachment to me might be strategic, coldly calculated rather than genuine. Samantha’s final confession slams that illusion to the ground: Anya has been working with the rival woman for months, feeding them intelligence, planting herself close enough to see and hear everything.
The realization burns like acid.
She wasn’t heartbroken. She wasn’t angry. She was building leverage—patiently, meticulously, like a predator circling its prey.
Every plan I’ve made, every precaution I thought was enough, suddenly feels like it was made with blinders on. Anya wasn’t just a threat; she was an inside weapon, and now I know exactly how deep the knife has been plunged.
I clench my fists. This isn’t personal; it’s tactical. And I won’t let anyone use her—or anyone else—to touch Ellie.
Not ever.
“What do we do?” Ellie asks, her voice quiet but tense, threading itself into the tight coil of my thoughts.
I take a slow breath, letting the weight of the revelation settle before answering. “We call a meeting. All my closest allies, everyone I trust implicitly.” I meet her eyes, letting her see the plan forming even in my calm. “She likes to think I see her as an ally. That’s how I’ll get her here. Once she’s in the room, I deal with her. Personally.”
Ellie studies me for a moment, then nods. Without a word, she slides an arm around my waist, pressing close. The tension that had gripped the evening loosens as we hold each other.
We fall asleep tangled together, the world outside suspended for a few hours. In each other’s arms, there’s a fragile peace—but underneath it, I know the storm is only just beginning.
***
One week later, I hold the meeting right here in my home, under the guise of reinforcing unity after Sergei’s betrayal. Anya arrives dressed in calculated elegance, unaware that the trap has already been laid.
Ellie sits across the table, deliberately distant so Anya can come close. Anya sees it immediately and takes advantage, draping herself over my arm, whispering compliments into my ear, her smile sharp and practiced.
After the discussion about strengthening our ranks and rooting out disloyalty, I rise to my feet, taking Anya’s arm so she rises with me. The room goes still, every eye turning our way.
Anya throws Ellie a triumphantI-won-bitchlook from across the table. Ellie only smiles, calm and unshaken, radiating quiet power.
I lift my glass, clicking it against the table to demand absolute silence. The murmur of conversation dies instantly.
“All of you,” I say, my voice low and precise, carrying across the room, “there’s a matter of loyalty we need to address. Right here, right now.”
Anya stiffens slightly, just enough for me to see it. Her confidence wavers, even if she tries to hide it.
I let the silence stretch, heavy and oppressive, the room hanging onto my next words.
“First,” I say, letting the tension build, “I want to thank my wife—because she’s more than an equal. Because of her ideas, her strategies, I’ve been able to fish out moles easily.”
I sweep my gaze across the table. “Everyone, please, a round of applause for Mrs. Ellie Rusnak.”
Ellie beams, a quiet pride shining through, as polite applause ripples around the room. Some reach out to shake her hand, others openly congratulate her. I let her have her shine.
Then, I turn slowly toward Anya, letting my tone harden, every word measured. “And in honor of calling out moles, it’s time for you to confess your alliance with Sergei and Samantha.”
