Chapter 17 - Anka
The rejection carved itself into her bones.
Anka stood under the scalding spray of her en suite shower, letting water hot enough to redden her skin wash away the phantom sensation of Viktor’s proximity.
She could still feel the echo of that moment—the way he’d looked at her like she was everything he’d ever wanted before stepping back like she carried some contagious disease.
Stupid. She was so monumentally stupid for thinking today had changed anything between them.
The skydiving had been perfect. For four hours, she’d been herself again—the woman who craved freedom and found it in defying gravity, who could exist without constantly calculating how her actions might inconvenience or endanger the men in her life.
Viktor had given her that, had learned something terrifying and foreign just to share it with her, and she’d foolishly interpreted his gesture as evidence that he might actually care.
The water was beginning to run cold by the time she finally emerged, wrapping herself in a towel that felt inadequate against the chill that had nothing to do with temperature.
Her reflection in the bathroom mirror showed the aftermath of the day—wind-tangled hair, sun-flushed cheeks, eyes bright with the kind of exhilaration that only came from falling through empty sky.
She looked alive in ways she’d forgotten were possible, which made Viktor’s rejection sting even worse.
Anka dressed mechanically, pulling on pajamas that covered every inch of skin despite being alone in her room.
The careful distance Viktor had maintained since their wedding night had taught her to be invisible again, to take up as little space as possible in his home and his life.
Today had been an aberration, a brief glimpse of what might have been possible if they were different people with a different history.
But they weren’t different people. She was still the woman who’d ghosted him without explanation, who’d chosen her family’s threats over fighting for what they’d had.
And he was still the man who’d married her for revenge, who saw her as a puzzle to solve or a debt to collect rather than a person worth loving.
The reminder should have reinforced her walls, should have made it easier to retreat into the careful compliance that had kept her safe for weeks. Instead, it made her furious.
Anka found herself pacing the confines of her bedroom, restless energy crackling through her veins like electricity seeking ground.
The day had awakened something she’d thought permanently dormant—the part of her that refused to accept limitations, that had always pushed against boundaries even when pushing back meant pain.
She’d spent four years believing that leaving Viktor had been the right choice, the only choice that would keep him alive.
Adrian’s threats had been explicit and terrifying, backed by the kind of casual violence that characterized their world.
But tonight, with the taste of freedom still sharp on her tongue and the memory of Viktor’s careful consideration of her interests fresh in her mind, she found herself questioning everything.
What if Adrian had been lying about the Nikolais being small fish? What if she’d sacrificed the only real happiness she’d ever known for nothing more than her brother’s manipulative power play?
The thought was devastating because it felt true. Adrian had controlled her through fear, had isolated her from the one person who’d ever seen her completely, and chosen to stay anyway. And she’d let him, had been so terrified of losing Viktor that she’d ensured the loss herself.
The irony would have been amusing if it weren’t destroying her from the inside out.
Anka grabbed her laptop from the bedside table and settled cross-legged on her bed, fingers flying over the keyboard with the kind of desperate efficiency that came from having a purpose.
She’d spent years avoiding research that might contradict Adrian’s version of events, too afraid of what she might discover.
But fear was a luxury she could no longer afford.
The internet painted a different picture of the Nikolai family than the one Adrian had sold her.
They weren’t small fish struggling for relevance—they were apex predators who’d built an empire through strategic alliances and calculated violence.
Their reach extended across multiple continents, their influence touching industries she hadn’t even known were connected to organized crime.
Viktor himself was a legend in certain circles, renowned for his intelligence and ruthlessness in equal measure.
Business journals praised his innovative approaches to legitimate ventures while law enforcement files documented his family’s involvement in activities that existed in legal gray areas at best.
This was the man Adrian had dismissed as insignificant, the family he’d claimed would be easily eliminated if they posed a threat to Viktor’s safety. The lies were so blatant and obviously fabricated that Anka felt nauseated by her own gullibility.
She’d thrown away everything for nothing.
Worse than nothing—she’d handed Adrian exactly the leverage he’d wanted while ensuring that Viktor would never trust her again.
The perfect manipulation, executed flawlessly because she’d been too young and too scared to question the narrative she’d been fed.
The laptop screen blurred as tears she’d been holding back for hours finally spilled over.
Anka closed the device with shaking hands and pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to contain the devastating certainty that she’d destroyed the best thing in her life based on lies designed to control her.
The worst part was that it didn’t matter now.
Understanding Adrian’s manipulation didn’t erase the years of pain Viktor had endured because of her choices.
It didn’t change the fact that she’d proven herself untrustworthy, that she’d chosen coercion over communication when their relationship had faced its first real test.
Even if she told Viktor the truth now, even if she explained about Adrian’s threats and her own terrified stupidity, it wouldn’t repair the fundamental breach of trust. She’d still be the woman who’d run when things got difficult, who’d prioritized her own safety over their relationship’s survival.
The realization should have broken her. Instead, it crystallized something that had been building since their wedding night—a determination to stop being the passive recipient of other people’s choices and start making some of her own.
Anka wiped her eyes and reached for her phone, scrolling through contacts until she found the number she needed. Raya answered on the third ring, her voice thick with sleep and confusion.
“Anka? It’s past midnight. Are you—”
“I need to ask you something,” Anka interrupted, her voice steadier than she’d expected. “When I disappeared for those hours after fighting with Adrian, when I told you all I’d been kidnapped—did you believe me?”
Silence stretched across the connection, long enough that Anka wondered if the call had dropped. When Raya finally spoke, her voice was careful in ways that confirmed Anka’s growing suspicions.
“Why are you asking about that now?”
“Because I’m starting to think a lot of things I accepted as truth might have been lies designed to keep me compliant.” Anka gripped the phone tighter, knuckles white with tension. “Did Adrian ever tell you what really happened that day?”
Another pause, followed by a sigh that carried years of suppressed knowledge. “He said you needed to learn that actions have consequences. That letting you think you’d been in real danger would make you more careful in the future.”
The words hit Anka like physical blows, each revelation worse than the last. The kidnapping that had left her terrified of venturing out alone, that had given Adrian additional justification for restricting her movements—her own brother had orchestrated it.
Another manipulation, another lie designed to keep her scared and dependent.
“How long have you known?” Anka asked, surprised by how calm she sounded when everything inside her felt like it was falling apart.
“Since it happened. Adrian told me because he needed someone to help maintain the story if you ever questioned the details.” Raya’s voice cracked with what sounded like guilt.
“I’m sorry, Anka. I should have told you years ago, but he said it was for your own protection, that you needed to understand how dangerous the world could be for someone like you. ”
Someone like her. Female, sheltered, too naive to recognize when she was being systematically undermined by the people who claimed to love her most.
“Thank you for telling me now,” Anka said, though honesty felt like swallowing glass. “I need to go.”
She ended the call before Raya could respond, before her sister could offer explanations or apologies that wouldn’t change the fundamental reality of their family’s dysfunction.
The kidnapping, Viktor’s supposed insignificance, probably dozens of other incidents, and claims that had shaped her understanding of the world—all lies constructed to keep her in line.
Anka set the phone aside and stared at the ceiling, feeling something shift inside her chest. The grief was still there, along with rage at her own stupidity and fury at the people who’d manipulated her so expertly.
But underneath those emotions, something else was growing—a determination to stop being the victim of other people’s schemes.
She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t undo the years of pain Viktor had endured or repair the trust she’d shattered when she’d chosen fear over faith. But she could stop accepting the limitations other people tried to impose on her future.
Viktor wanted revenge? He could have it.
He’d married her to make her pay for disappearing from his life, and she deserved whatever punishment he devised.
But she was done being passive in her own destruction.
If he were going to break her heart again, he’d have to do it while she was fighting back instead of simply enduring whatever he chose to inflict.
The decision settled in her bones like steel, reinforcing the parts of her personality that had been systematically dismantled over the years.
She’d been the girl who’d snuck out to meet forbidden lovers, who’d pursued dangerous hobbies despite family disapproval, who’d craved freedom more than safety.
That girl was still there, buried under layers of manipulation and learned helplessness, but not destroyed.
It was time to remember who she’d been before other people had convinced her that being small was the same thing as being safe.
Anka climbed out of bed and walked to her window, looking out at the grounds of Viktor’s estate.
Tomorrow, she’d continue working in his office, continue playing the role of dutiful wife who was grateful for whatever scraps of attention he chose to offer.
But underneath the performance, she’d be planning.
She’d spent four years believing that loving Viktor meant accepting his loss. Now she understood that loving him meant fighting for the possibility of something real, even if fighting meant risking another devastating rejection.
Viktor thought he was orchestrating her destruction, thought he could control the pace and intensity of whatever revenge he’d devised.
But he’d made a crucial miscalculation—he’d given her a taste of who she used to be, had reminded her what it felt like to be seen and valued for her authentic self instead of the diminished version her family preferred.
That had been a mistake. Because the woman who’d jumped out of an aircraft today, who’d felt genuinely alive for the first time in years, wasn’t going to quietly accept whatever fate he had planned for her.
She was going to fight back. And Viktor Nikolai was about to discover that the girl who’d once disappeared without explanation had grown into a woman who refused to be dismissed again.