Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Silas
Six Years Later
The fluorescent lights in the basement cast a sickly glow over Vanessa. She was tied to the chair, red hair hanging in tangles around her face, her makeup smeared.
I stood in the shadows and lit a cigarette. Six years.
Six years ago, I swore to make everyone who hurt Anthea pay, so I went through with the engagement party. After that, I played the long game.
At first, I didn't have the power yet, so I had to keep up the charade with Vanessa. She'd show up at the manor all the time, knocking on my door with nothing but lingerie under her coat, trying to crawl into my bed. Every time I pushed her away—too much work, not feeling well.
She didn't buy it, but there was nothing she could do.
"You're still thinking about that dead bitch, aren't you?" she demanded once after I turned her down.
I looked at her, expression blank. "Vanessa, merging two family operations takes time. I don't have room for this right now."
She knew I was lying, but twenty-some years of privilege wouldn't let her beg.
And she was already enjoying the perks of being the future Mrs. Thorne—the title alone got her into circles she'd never cracked before.
She could burn through my credit cards, use the Thorne name to do whatever the hell she wanted in New York.
Six months later, with the Zaitsev resources behind us, the bratva expanded. Vanessa stopped questioning me, even when I kept pushing back the wedding date.
Two years after that, her father's bastard son took over Zaitsev. She and her mother barely had a foothold in the family anymore. She was desperate to hold onto me as her lifeline. That's when I agreed to marry her—with conditions. No ceremony. Separate residences. She couldn't see Olei.
A lot happened over the next few years, but I kept moving closer to my goal. Year five, my father got sick. The doctors gave him a year, tops.
"Silas, the Thorne family is yours now." He called me to his bedside, those cloudy eyes fixed on me.
Just like that, I became Pakhan. Within a year, I'd doubled our territory through sheer brutality. That year, my life was nothing but killing and negotiating. I realized I didn't feel anything anymore. The only time I felt warmth was late at night, watching Olei sleep.
And then, when I didn't need the Zaitsevs anymore, I anonymously handed the FBI everything on their drug network. I watched their warehouses get raided, their distributors arrested, their operation crumble overnight.
Vanessa's father went to prison. Her mother was under my control. And Vanessa herself was tied to the chair in front of me.
"You backstabbing bastard!" Vanessa's voice dragged me back to the present. "Six years! You used my family's resources, you used us to swallow up everything, and now you betray us?"
"Betray?" I exhaled smoke. "Vanessa, you grew up in this world. Haven't you learned lesson one yet? We don't have allies. Just temporary partnerships."
Vanessa's eyes went wide. Her teeth clenched. "You're a monster, Silas. You don't have a heart."
"Maybe. Agreeing to the merger was always about leverage.
" I pulled out a stack of photos from my jacket and tossed them at her.
"Vanessa, you think I didn't know why you can't have kids?
The photos of you at those group-sex parties abroad—they hit my desk six years ago.
You weren't born infertile. You wrecked yourself with your own degeneracy. "
Vanessa went pale. She looked down at the scattered photos, each one exposing her disgusting private life during her time overseas. But soon, a twisted smile crept across her face, like she was trying to salvage the last shred of Zaitsev's dignity.
"You think you control everything, Silas?
But you don't know about Anthea..." Vanessa's voice stopped.
Her expression went cold. "You fell in love with her, didn't you?
These six years, I've watched you keep her ashes in a pendant around your neck.
You have no idea how badly she wanted to see you before she died, do you? "
"Shut up." It felt like someone punched me in the lungs.
Every word out of this woman's mouth was poison.
"But where were you, Silas? You caused her death." Vanessa kept going, eyes bright with malice. "You think killing me will give her justice? The person you should kill is yourself."
My hand froze. The cigarette slipped from my fingers. She was right. Even if I destroyed Vanessa's family, sent her father to prison, killed her—it wouldn't bring Anthea back. It wouldn't fill the void she left.
"Lock her up." I turned to Marcus standing nearby, my voice hoarse.
Vanessa was still screaming as they dragged her away, but I couldn't hear it anymore.
I'd waited six years, laid the groundwork for six years, and finally torn it all down. And now what?
The manor felt emptier than ever at night. Silver moonlight spilled across the floors, coating everything in a haze.
I pushed open my son's bedroom door. Olei was already in bed, clutching a storybook, his eyes brightening slightly when he saw me.
"Dad." His voice was soft.
Every time I looked at Olei, it was like being flayed alive. He was six now, just started first grade. He had my dark brown hair, but Anthea's amber eyes.
His eyes were clear, sensitive. When he looked at me, there was always something cautious in them. It reminded me of Anthea—she used to look at me the same way, with that careful mix of fear and longing.
"Still awake?" I tried to soften my voice around him.
"I was waiting for you." He held out the book. "You promised you'd read to me."
I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the worn storybook.
"Once upon a time, there was a kingdom..."
My voice was stiff. I didn't know how to read stories about princes and princesses. But Olei didn't complain. He curled up under the blanket, listening quietly, blinking every now and then.
My voice echoed in the quiet room. Soon, I heard Olei's breathing even out. I set the book down and looked at him.
He looked more like Anthea every day. Not just the eyes—the chin, even the way he frowned slightly in his sleep.
I sighed and smoothed his brow. Then I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams, kid."
"Silas." A familiar voice came from the doorway.
I spun around. Anthea stood there. She wore a white nightgown, blonde hair falling over her shoulders, her whole body glowing with soft light. Her face was still young, beautiful, those amber eyes filled with the heartbreaking tenderness I remembered.
"Olei's asleep," she said with a smile. "Why aren't you in bed?"
My heart skipped. I knew she wasn't real. Just a hallucination, a side effect of chronic insomnia and extreme psychological strain. The antipsychotics the doctor prescribed were in my nightstand—two pills and she'd disappear.
But I never took them. Because this was the only way I could see her. Even if it was fake. Even if it drove me insane. I'd take it.
"I..." My voice caught. "I'm coming."
She smiled at me, then turned and walked toward the master bedroom. I hurried after her, but no matter how fast I moved, she stayed the same distance ahead.
The master bedroom had only one wall sconce on, warm yellow light mixing with the silver moonlight from the window. Anthea and I stood on opposite sides of the room. I couldn't get closer.
"Look at you. Your temples are going gray. Why don't you take care of yourself?" Anthea's voice was light as air.
I stared at her greedily, afraid to blink, terrified she'd vanish.
"I'm thinking about you." My voice was raw. I reached out. "Anthea, come here. Please. Come here."
She looked at me sadly and shook her head.
"I'm in pain, Anthea." I clutched my chest—empty, yet so heavy I couldn't breathe. "Here... every day it hurts. I want to rip my heart out so it'll stop."
Anthea seemed to sigh. She moved closer, stopping a few steps away. I could see the folds in her dress, even smell the scent that wasn't there.
"You need to take care of Olei." Her voice was gentle. "He's our son. Don't be so hard on him."
"I don't know how. Come back and teach me." I begged, helpless.
"You can change." Her form started turning transparent, moonlight passing through her body. "For Olei, try to change, okay?"
"Don't go!" I lunged forward, trying to grab her hand.
But my fingers passed through her. I caught only cold air and crashed to the floor.
"Anthea!" I shouted her name.
The room was empty. I knelt on the floor and let out a broken sob.
After a long time, I pulled out the silk nightgown Anthea used to wear from under my pillow. Six years later, her scent was long gone, but I still held onto it every night. I collapsed on the bed, clutching it to my chest, fighting off insomnia.
The next morning.
Sleep deprivation made my head feel like it was splitting open. I sat at my office desk, mechanically processing documents. Maria knocked, phone in hand.
"Pakhan, it's Olei's school."
My spine went rigid. The school? Something happened to Olei? I grabbed the phone.
"Talk."
The person on the other end was clearly rattled by my tone—a trembling female voice. "Is this... Mr. Thorne? This is Olei's teacher. Olei has a fever. His temperature's pretty high. We need a parent to pick him up."
"I'm on my way." No discussion.
I hung up and grabbed my jacket off the chair.
"Get the car," I barked into the intercom. "Push back the meeting. If those old bastards have a problem, tell them to take it up with my gun."
These six years, I'd been a terrible father, but my protectiveness over Olei bordered on pathological. Olei rarely got sick. He'd always been healthy. This sudden fever stirred something in me I couldn't name.
Half an hour later, my car pulled up to the school. Olei stood there holding his teacher's hand, his little face flushed red.
"Dad." Olei smiled when he saw me.
I scooped him up. His body was burning.
"Olei was already running a fever when he got to school this morning," the teacher said. "The nurse gave him medicine and told him to go home and rest. But he insisted on staying through two classes."
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I looked at Olei, my tone sharp.
Olei shrank. "I thought the medicine would make it better."
Damn it. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm down.
"We're going home."
In the car, Olei dozed off in my arms. I looked at his pale face, something twisting inside me. He was only six. He should be growing up carefree, not afraid to tell me when he was sick.
Because he was scared of me. I'd always known. I thought I could give Olei the best of everything with power and money, but I forgot what he needed most—a father who'd laugh with him, hug him, tell him it was okay.
I wanted to be a normal dad, talk to him like one. But my brain only had room for territory disputes and interrogation techniques. Six years of killing had turned me into a monster.
Back at the manor, the family doctor examined Olei—just a common cold causing the fever. He gave me cooling patches. I pressed one to Olei's forehead and sat by the bed, monitoring his temperature.
One hour. Two hours. Three hours. The temperature dropped a little, then spiked again. My heart rose and fell with those numbers, more tense than any business deal.
At three in the morning, Olei's eyes fluttered open.
"Dad?" His voice was tiny, surprised. "You're still here?"
"Yeah." My voice was dry. "Feeling better?"
He looked at my face, like he was trying to figure out what answer would satisfy me. My heart felt like it was being pricked with needles.
"A lot better. You should go to bed, too, Dad. I'm fine." His voice was small.
I wanted to say something, tell him he didn't have to be so good, that he could act spoiled, throw a tantrum, be like other kids.
But what came out was, "How's school been lately? Anything going on?"
Olei blinked, like he hadn't expected me to ask. He thought for a moment, then started answering like he was giving a report. "I got an A on the math quiz last week. I came in third in the race in gym class the other day."
"Good." After a long pause, I managed the word.
"And..." Olei relaxed a little, his tone turning more animated. "Our art teacher is out on leave because she's having a baby. We're getting a new teacher soon. Everyone's talking about it."
"New teacher?" I frowned.
I didn't care about staff changes as long as they kept my son safe and educated.
"Yeah." Olei's voice got a bit louder, filled with childish curiosity. "We don't know what the new teacher will be like. Everyone in class hopes she'll be nice."
I didn't answer. I'd have someone run a background check when the new teacher started.
"You should rest. You just broke the fever." I glanced at my watch. It was late.
The light in Olei's eyes dimmed. He slipped back into that careful demeanor.
"Okay, Dad." He closed his eyes immediately.
The moment I shut the door, I leaned against the wall, filled with a sense of defeat. I didn't know how to change, how to be a normal father.
Anthea, if you were here, what would you do? Everything would be different, wouldn't it?