Chapter 4 - Fyodor
“Sit.” Kliment didn’t look up when he said it because frankly, he didn’t have to.
The office was quiet in a way that felt engineered.
I already knew it had soundproofed walls behind the dark wood paneling.
A single strip of light cut across the massive desk like a blade.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, but the blinds were half drawn, reducing Miami to slashes of silver between black.
I remained standing for a second longer than necessary, which seemed like a small act of defiance on my part, but I knew that it was unnecessary.
Kliment was older than me, and he was blood.
He was the one who had worked tirelessly to bring us to this position, and he had never stopped to think about himself.
He cared about this family, and he wanted to do nothing but secure our future and position.
It was never easy to work with him, but it didn’t mean that I didn’t respect him.
I finally sat down, wondering why he had summoned me. My brother finally lifted his gaze.
Kliment Romanov had always looked like the future carved in stone with his sharp lines, cold eyes, and a posture that was too rigid to be accidental. He wore authority like skin, and it fit him effortlessly.
But lately, there was something else beneath it. I had sensed his obsession.
“You’ve been distracted,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
“No.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “Don’t insult me.”
I held his stare evenly. “I’ve handled everything you’ve asked of me.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Silence stretched between us, and I knew this wasn’t a discussion. It was positioning.
“You know why you’re here,” he said finally.
“Yes.” I did have an idea. After all, lately, Kliment had only been obsessed with one thing.
He leaned back slightly in his chair. “And what is it?”
His need for verbal confirmation was telling.
“You want to dismantle the Chernykhs, and you want to make sure everything goes right.”
“Yes, but more importantly, I want to bring our sister home.”
There it was. The delusion wrapped in devotion.
He had been losing his mind since Ilana had chosen to leave.
She was the golden girl of the Romanovs.
The sister who had always been soft and bright.
She was the one Kliment had tried to control like a strategic asset until she’d slipped through his fingers and married Avgust Chernykh.
The Chernykhs were our biggest enemies right now only because of this one thing.
I had been there when all of it fell apart.
When Kliment’s pride detonated the room, words turned into threats.
All of it had gone down too quickly, but I can never forget how Avgust had saved my life once.
He wasn’t a bad guy, and most importantly, I knew Ilana loved him.
She wouldn’t have chosen to go with him otherwise.
But Kliment pretended that didn’t matter.
“You seriously think destroying them will make her return?” I said carefully.
“I know it will.”
“You think she’ll come back ashamed and regretful of her decision?” I scoffed. Even Kliment was smarter than this.
His eyes sharpened. “She will see what she chose is wrong for her.”
“She chose him, and I think we need to accept that,” I said quietly.
The air in the room dropped ten degrees, and Kliment stood up slowly. He walked toward the window, hands clasped behind his back.
“She was manipulated.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
He turned sharply. “You weren’t there when he took her.”
“I was there when he protected her.”
A second passed between us, and Kliment’s expression shifted, turning to fury.
“You’re sentimental and compromised,” he said flatly.
“No, I am not.”
He stepped closer to the desk, palms braced against it.
“Blood loyalty is not optional, Fyodor.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His eyes burned into mine, searching for fracture.
I didn’t give him one. The truth was more complicated, and I knew he wouldn’t understand.
Ilana wasn’t just my sister. She was the only person in this world who had ever looked at me and seen something other than usefulness.
She’d defended me when Kliment’s expectations grew too sharp. She’d laughed when I’d needed silence.
I loved her. But I wasn’t blind. She wasn’t coming back. Destroying the Chernykhs wouldn’t restore her pride. It would just burn more ground. But Kliment didn’t care. He needed war, and he needed me to execute it. He straightened, walking back behind the desk.
“There’s a vulnerability,” he said calmly.
I didn’t like the tone.
“What vulnerability?”
He opened a drawer and removed a thin black folder, sliding it across the desk toward me.
“We have intel on a possible leverage in the Chernykh household that can benefit us.”
My stomach tightened slightly. It couldn’t be something sensible.
“You want me to negotiate with them?”
“No.”
His gaze darkened.
“I want you to use this advantage and make them pay.”
I didn’t reach for the folder immediately, dreading whatever was inside.
“Be clear.”
“Ilana left because she believed she had options,” Kliment said evenly. “Because she believed the Chernykhs could protect her. Because she believed she could build something with them.”
His voice sharpened.
“Take that belief away.”
The meaning settled slowly. Like poison. He wanted to show Ilana that the Chernykhs could not protect one of their own, which only meant that whatever was inside the dossier was a Chernykh who needed to be taken away.
“Who?” I asked.
“Avgust has no obvious weakness.”
Of course he didn’t.
“He’s disciplined and controlled.”
“Yes.”
“But every empire has a softer flank.”
My hand finally moved, fingers brushing against the edge of the folder.
“And that is?”
Kliment’s mouth curved, but not in amusement. In calculation instead.
“Elisse Chernykh.”
The name hit harder than it should have. I didn’t react. Years of training and being a part of this world ensured that. I knew exactly when to show an expression and when to hide one.
“Elisse,” I repeated evenly.
“She is one of the sisters.”
I opened the folder at last, and it felt as if my world shifted.
A photograph stared back at me. A girl with dark blonde hair and blue eyes that flickered grey under certain light.
She had sharp cheekbones and a controlled smile since the picture was clearly taken at some press event.
Her porcelain mask was absent, but I already knew who she was.
Elle. My Elle.
Everything came back to me at once. The elevator and the penthouse.
Her breath heavy against my mouth, and the way she’d said yes without hesitation.
The way she’d fallen asleep in my arms like she trusted me.
My fingers tightened slightly against the paper, but I forced them to relax. I couldn’t let Kliment know.
“What do we know about her?” I asked.
“She had recently returned to Miami after spending some time in Europe,” Kliment said. “She studied fashion and has connections in the industry. She does make public appearances but keeps them limited. According to sources, she is very guarded.”
I barely heard him. Because all I could see was her in a gold silk gown in which she was anonymous and free.
“And what exactly do you want me to do?” I asked carefully.
Kliment’s gaze didn’t waver.
“Get closer to her.”
The room felt smaller.
“She’s not Ilana. What is the point?” I said.
“I’m aware she isn’t.”
“She’s not even politically positioned or part of the family business. She is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I think we are barking up the wrong tree here.”
“She is still Chernykh blood, and when it comes to families, this is more than enough. If we destabilize her,” Kliment continued, “we destabilize them.”
“You want me to threaten her.”
“I want you to remind the Chernykhs that their empire has cracks and that people who are dear to them can also be taken away.”
His voice softened slightly.
“Make her fall in love with you if you have to, or kidnap her if you can, but somehow show the Chernykhs that they are just as vulnerable as us.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
“And then?”
Kliment’s expression didn’t change.
“Then we decide what serves us best.”
I closed the folder slowly.
“You’re asking me to weaponize a woman who had nothing to do with Ilana’s choice.”
“I’m asking you to protect your family and do what is required of you as part of this family.”
There it was again; Blood. Loyalty. Duty. The Romanov code etched into my very bones.
Kliment wanted me to dismantle Ilana’s new family piece by piece, and he wanted me to start with Elle.
Elisse. The woman who had looked at me in a crowded ballroom and seen me without context.
Who had said she believed in agency. Who had chosen me in a room full of masked strangers. Who had trusted me blindly.
Guilt crawled under my skin, but I stood, the dossier still clutched in my hands.
“Is this an order?” I asked.
Kliment met my gaze steadily.
“Yes.”
There were a thousand ways to refuse, but all of them ended in fracture, which might cause a civil war within our own house, and Ilana might also be caught in the crossfire.
Kliment was already teetering on obsession.
If I resisted openly, he would escalate recklessly.
But if I complied, I might be able to control the damage. That was the lie I told myself.
“I’ll handle it,” I said.
Kliment nodded once.
“Good.”
I turned and walked out without another word, the hallway feeling too narrow and too bright around me. I didn’t stop until I was inside my car, the engine roaring to life beneath my hands.
Elisse Chernykh.
Elle.
The woman who had kissed me like she meant it and who had laughed when I told her I wanted control.
I drove without conscious direction and somehow ended up near the Chernykh estate even when I didn’t mean to. The gates stood tall, guarded, discreet, but impenetrable. I parked a block away to remain unnoticed and just sat there, staring at nothing. The realization hit me in waves.
She hadn’t told me her real name, but that was something I already knew. It was all for the masquerade and a guise of anonymity. She had wanted agency, and this was her choice. She’d played the game as well as I had. But she hadn’t been playing war. She’d been playing freedom.
And I—
I’d walked straight into my brother’s strategy.
A humorless laugh left my throat. Of all the women in Miami and all the faces in that ballroom, I had chosen her.
Or maybe I hadn’t chosen at all. Maybe it had never been a choice.
I rested my head back against the seat, staring up at the night sky through the windshield.
Kliment believed breaking the Chernykhs would bring Ilana home and that shame was stronger than love.
He was wrong.
But he wouldn’t see it until something shattered.
The question was—
Would that something be Elisse?
Or me?
I picked up the folder from the passenger seat and opened it again.
It was filled with photographs, schedules, and multiple security details.
Every interview she had ever given, and every press event she had ever attended, was plastered inside.
There was a quote highlighted from an article about her fashion ambitions: “Beauty without meaning is decoration. Beauty with intention is power.”
Of course she’d said that. It sounded exactly like something she believed in. My chest tightened as the gravity of the situation consumed me. I had to somehow weaponize her or seduce her because Kliment wanted to destabilize her.
Blood loyalty demanded obedience.
I closed the folder slowly. There was no visible alternative.
If I refused, Kliment would simply assign the task to someone else, and they would see it through without hesitation.
However, if I accepted, I could dictate the terms. I could limit the damage.
That was the rationalization forming already. I started the car again.
As I drove away from the estate, one truth pressed heavier than the rest:
Elisse Chernykh wasn’t leverage.
She was the only woman who had made me forget my last name and the only woman who had refused to stay even when I had asked her to stay in the morning.
She had decided to walk away without telling me a single thing about her, and nothing had been more surprising than that.
But now I knew just why she had done that. She had been protecting both of us.
But now I was standing against her. The realization settled with disorienting force.
This wasn’t a strategy. This was war.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure which side I was standing on.