Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kholod
"Boss, this is the hotel information for the South Island of New Zealand that you requested." Dmitri placed a folder on my desk. "As per your instructions, I've booked the best lake-view suite in Queenstown for ten days."
"Good." I opened the folder, studying the stunning photos—impossibly blue water, snow-capped peaks reflected in its surface. "Noelle will love this."
Three days since we'd returned from Iceland, and my mood remained unusually light.
Faced with mountains of paperwork, I felt no irritation.
I'd even started browsing through Noelle's travel albums, planning our next destination—New Zealand, Norway, Scotland.
Every place she'd marked, I wanted to take her to.
"Any other arrangements?" Dmitri asked.
"Look into Norwegian fjord cruise routes," I instructed. "The best company."
"Yes, sir." Dmitri nodded, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes.
He'd worked for me for years—probably never seen me care this much about a woman's preferences.
"Oh, and," I remembered something. "Those Nordic handicrafts I sent yesterday—did she receive them?"
"She did. Mrs. Morozov loved them, especially the wool blankets. Darya said she's been reading while wrapped in one of them."
My lips curved slightly. I was eager to see her surprised expression.
I headed to the library. Seeing me, Noelle's face lit up with delight.
"Kholod, you're here!"
"Yeah."
"I'm picking our next destination!" She held up her album, showing me. "There are so many places I want to go, I can't decide."
"How about the Norwegian fjords?" I flipped to the Sognefjord page. "Good for hiking."
"Great idea!" She practically bounced with excitement.
"I remember this place from your itinerary."
"You actually remember!" She leaned closer, her hair falling forward to brush my cheek, carrying that faint orange blossom scent.
"Of course I remember. And I've already made plans."
"What?" Her voice held disbelief.
I pulled her down beside me. "Since Iceland made you so happy, we can visit every place you've marked."
"All of them?" Her eyes widened.
"All of them," I confirmed. "Wherever you want to go."
She suddenly threw herself into my arms, hugging my waist tightly.
"What's wrong?" I wrapped my arms around her.
"Nothing." Her voice was muffled. "You've just... changed."
"For better or worse?"
"You've become..." She looked up at me, tears shimmering in her eyes. "You've become like a normal person."
I paused, then laughed. "I wasn't normal before?"
"No." She was brutally honest. "Before, you were more like a breathing iceberg."
"And now?"
"Now..." She tilted her head, thinking. "Now it's like the iceberg is starting to melt. Still cold, but at least... at least there's warmth."
I cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek. "Noelle, I—"
"Boss."
Dmitri's voice cut through from the doorway, interrupting what I was about to say.
I frowned, looking toward the entrance. Dmitri stood there, his expression grave.
"What is it?" My tone carried displeasure. Being interrupted felt awful.
"Urgent matter to report." He glanced at Noelle. "About... that matter."
I understood his meaning. That situation—the ambush three years ago that nearly killed me.
"I see." I released Noelle and stood. "Go back to your room. I need to handle something."
"Okay." She nodded obediently, taking her sketchbook as she left the library.
At the doorway, she looked back with concern. "Don't work too hard."
"Alright."
Once she was gone, my expression turned cold.
"Boss." Dmitri's voice was unusually hoarse. "We need to talk."
I looked up, seeing his expression, and felt an ominous premonition.
"Speak."
"About the firefight that left you critically injured three years ago." He paused. "We've made some new discoveries."
Dmitri pulled an encrypted file envelope from his briefcase, placing it before me.
"This came from our source inside Kieran O'Connell's operation. We caught one of Kieran's old crew members—he'd just been used as cannon fodder by Kieran last week and spilled some information."
I opened the envelope, extracting the documents.
The first page was a handwritten statement, scrawled but clear.
"...That winter, Kieran approached Marco Bellucci. Marco owed gambling debts he couldn't pay. Kieran said he could help with the money, but Marco had to do a favor—provide Morozov's whereabouts. Marco hesitated for a long time, but finally agreed..."
My breathing stopped.
I continued reading.
"...On Christmas Eve, using Marco's information, we set up an ambush in South District. Didn't expect Morozov to fight so hard—lost several brothers... Afterward, Kieran was pissed, said Marco's intel wasn't accurate enough. Two months later, Marco jumped off a building..."
The document slipped from my hands, fluttering down to the desk.
"There's more." Dmitri's voice was quiet. "These are financial records between Marco Bellucci and Kieran. The timeline matches perfectly."
He handed me more pages of bank transfer records.
I stared at those numbers, each transaction like a knife driving into my heart.
"Confirmed?" My voice was hoarse.
"We cross-referenced this testimony. Look here." Dmitri pointed to one transaction. "Three days before your attack, five million dollars was transferred to his account. The source was a shell company, controlled by Kieran O'Connell."
Five million dollars. Marco Bellucci sold my life for that money.
"More evidence?" My voice was terrifyingly calm.
"Yes." Dmitri produced more documents. "Phone records from that period. Marco Bellucci was in frequent contact with Kieran's men. And this—"
He handed me a blurry surveillance screenshot. "This was taken two hours before your attack that night, at a South District bar. Look at this person—"
I stared at the photo. The image was fuzzy, but I recognized that hunched silhouette.
Marco Bellucci.
He sat at the bar, across from a man in a baseball cap. They leaned close together, apparently in deep conversation.
"The man in the cap is Sean Donovan, one of Kieran's lieutenants," Dmitri said. "Died in a gang firefight three years ago. But before he died, he bragged while drunk about personally orchestrating the ambush on Morozov."
"We found three independent sources for cross-verification, including two others who participated in the operation. Their accounts are highly consistent. Boss, this... appears to be true."
I shot to my feet, the chair toppling backward with a loud crash.
"What about Noelle..."
"Mrs. Morozov shouldn't know," Dmitri spoke quickly. "From the timeline, when Marco Bellucci did these things, Mrs. Morozov was only eleven. And the official story has always been that your pressure drove Marco to suicide—Mrs. Morozov likely believes that too."
I gripped the desk edge, feeling the world spin.
That ambush years ago—Bellucci had betrayed me.
What bitter irony.
"And..." Dmitri hesitated, as if there was worse news.
"Speak."
"About your request to investigate who leaked the manor information..."
"Didn't we already deal with that mole?"
"According to the latest intelligence...
" Dmitri took a deep breath. "That person revealed they'd planted a deep sleeper.
We interrogated him extensively—he only said it was a woman.
I had him identify everyone at the manor.
.. he pointed to Mrs. Morozov, Isabella, and three maids, said he'd seen one of them once, that these people looked similar. "
"We already interrogated the maids," Dmitri closed his eyes. "They're all dead. Said nothing."
My heart turned to ice.
"Boss, are you alright?" Dmitri asked with concern.
"I'm fine." I forced myself to breathe, to stay calm. "Leave me alone."
"Yes, sir."
I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes.
Noelle's face appeared in my mind—her excited smile under the Icelandic aurora, her shy expression when she'd actively embraced me in the bathtub, her soft voice when she'd whispered "very happy" against my shoulder...
These images now became blades, cutting into my heart one by one.
I'd fallen in love with my enemy's daughter. She might very well be the sleeper Kieran had planted beside me.
I picked up the file again, reading page by page. Every detail, every piece of evidence, so perfect, so airtight.
Marco Bellucci, controlled by Kieran because of gambling debts.
He'd leaked my whereabouts.
He'd taken five million dollars in blood money.
Then, six months after I controlled Philadelphia, he "committed suicide." Guilt-driven suicide, or Kieran silencing him?
It no longer mattered. What mattered was that Noelle's father had tried to kill me.
And Noelle—did she know? If she did, then her mother selling her to me could only be premeditated. Her becoming Kieran's sleeper would make perfect sense.
Her father was my enemy. She might be the mole.
Vodka burned my throat but couldn't drive away the chill in my heart.
Just moments ago, I'd been planning our next trip, wanting to show her more of the world. I'd even had people prepare the Norwegian fjord itinerary, wanting to surprise her.
Now, it was all a joke. An absurd and cruel joke.
I poured another glass, downing it harshly.
Noelle's smile lingered in my mind. Every smile, every word, every spontaneous embrace...
Was any of it real?
I gripped the glass tightly, knuckles white.
No.
I couldn't continue like this.
I had to stay calm. Stay rational.
I pulled out my phone, calling Dmitri.
"Initiate the final plan. Under the pretense of 'debt collection,' seize all restaurants and companies under the Bellucci family name. Cut off all their food import channels."
"Boss..." Dmitri's tone was hesitant. "If we do this, the Bellucci family will be completely finished. Sofia Bellucci will..."
"I want her to become truly penniless before dawn."
"Yes, Boss."
I hung up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at Gladwyn Manor's night landscape. Moonlight bathed the snow-covered forest, everything so peaceful, so beautiful.
Like a carefully woven lie.
I didn't go find Noelle.
I waited.
Like a hunter waiting for prey to enter the trap.
I'd wait for her to receive the news, to come running to me in panic, to watch her shatter piece by piece before me.
Just like her father had once tried to do to me.