And I haven’t exactly been eager to repeat history.
But today…I’m going to go anyway.
I’m going to walk into that room.
And I’m going to prove to myself that fear doesn’t get to decide everything anymore.
I’m halfway to the door when there’s a knock.
I pause.
“Who is it?”
The door opens slightly before I even get an answer.
One of the guards steps in.
“Ma’am,” he says, “there’s a visitor requesting to see you.”
My brows draw together.
“Me?”
He nods once.
My chest tightens slightly on instinct.
“What’s their name?”
The pause he gives me is small—but noticeable.
“Sergei Volodin.”
Everything in me stills.
That name….
It doesn’t belong to danger.
It belongs to memory.
To my father.
To a world that feels like it existed a lifetime ago.
“Take me to him,” I say immediately.
No hesitation.
The guard turns, and I follow him without waiting for anything else.
The hallway feels longer than usual. My pulse louder.
Because Sergei Volodin wasn’t just another name in my father’s network.
He was one of the few people my father truly trusted.
Quiet. Precise. Always in the background—but never irrelevant.
