13. Father, You Must Be Out of Your Mind! #2
I turned to Katerina. “I’m sorry lunch turned out this way.”
She offered a single, measured nod. “So am I.”
I looked back at Father one last time. “This conversation is over.”
Without waiting for permission or another barked order, I turned toward the exit. “Nikolai. Let’s go.”
He stood without a word, stepping into lockstep with me.
As we reached the doorway, Father’s voice cut through the room one last time. “You’ll come back.”
I paused—not to turn around, just long enough to deliver the answer.
“No.”
Then we walked out, and didn’t look back.
* * *
Mikhail truly never knew when to stop.
The humiliation at the board meeting hadn’t been enough to put him in his place. He’d gone digging through confidential medical files, handed them directly to Father, and expected my world to collapse. He wanted chaos.
Fine. I’d give him a masterclass in it.
I leaned against the hood of the SUV in the underground garage, the sharp bite of the concrete air settling around us.
Nikolai stood a few feet away, static and unmoving.
He hadn’t said a word since we left the restaurant—not during the drive, not when traffic ground to a halt, and not when the engine finally cut out.
“You’ve been quiet,” I said, breaking the silence.
He stared at the far wall before finally turning his head. No tears. Just sheer, heavy exhaustion.
“…He wasn’t entirely wrong, Zhenya.”
“Who?”
“Your father,” Nikolai said softly, taking a low breath. “He said you’d lose everything because of me. And maybe you will.”
I closed the distance between us, grabbing his hand and lacing my fingers through his.
“You still don’t get it,” I said.
He frowned, confused.
“My whole life, I’ve built things other people could strip away—companies, accounts, influence. But there is only one thing in this world that belongs entirely to me.” I tightened my grip, holding his eyes. “You.”
He didn’t speak.
“If Father strips every company from my name tomorrow, I’ll build new ones,” I continued, my voice dangerously steady. “If my accounts are wiped clean, I’ll earn it back. But know this, there isn’t a line in existence I wouldn’t cross to keep you safe. Remember that.”
Nikolai stared at our joined hands for a long moment before letting his fingers slip free. “…Come upstairs with me.”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
A faint shadow of worry crossed his face, but he didn’t fight me on it. He just gave a small nod. “…Don’t take long.”
“I won’t.”
Lev stepped out from the shadows near the elevator bank, catching the keys I tossed him.
“Escort him up,” I ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Nikolai paused at the glass lobby doors, looking back over his shoulder. “…Drive safe.”
“Always.”
I waited until the heavy glass doors clicked shut and the lobby elevator opened before pulling out my phone. I dialed a direct line.
It didn’t even finish the first ring.
“Sir.”
“How fast can we liquidate Romanov Insurance’s position in Romanov Oil?” I asked without preamble.
A short pause on the other end. “If we move quietly… by the end of the day.”
“Don’t move quietly. Dump every single share Romanov Insurance holds in the market immediately.”
Silence stretched over the line as my strategist processed the sheer nuclear fallout of that command. “Mikhail will notice instantly. It’ll trigger a panic.”
“That’s the point.”
“What do I tell him when he calls?”
“He won’t have time to call.”
I hung up, climbed back into the driver’s seat, and fired up the engine. For years, Mikhail had mistaken my restraint for weakness. Today, he’d learn the hard way how wrong he was.
* * *
The guard unlocked the cell door.
“Inessa.”
She raised her head, staring blankly for a second as if she didn’t recognize me. Then she stood up so fast her metal chair shrieked against the concrete floor.
“…Zhenya.”
I said nothing. The guard glanced between the two of us, stepped back into the hallway, and let the heavy door click shut.
Silence settled over the room.
She looked hollowed out—far thinner than when I’d last seen her at the pominki. Prison hadn’t done that to her; guilt had.
“I suppose you came to watch me rot,” she said, her voice dry.
“I came for answers.”
A bitter, humorless smile touched her mouth. “I wondered how long it’d take.” She motioned vaguely toward the empty chair across from her.
I stayed standing.
“…Still refuse to sit?”
“I won’t be here long enough.”
Her smile faded completely. “Always the same. Straight to business.”
“The woman,” I said flatly.
Her face drained of what little color it had left. “I never wanted anyone to die.”
“I didn’t ask what you wanted. I asked about the woman you helped murder.”
Inessa closed her eyes, bowing her head. “…Mikhail.”
Mikhail. Of course.
“I never even met her,” she whispered. “He told me all I had to do was keep you occupied for the afternoon. So I did.”
“And you never questioned why.”
“I did. But he told me to keep my mouth shut.”
“And you obeyed.”
“I needed the money, Zhenya.”
A quiet, harsh laugh escaped me. Not because there was any humor in it, but because people like her always recycled the exact same script. I needed the money. I had no choice. I didn’t know.
She pressed the back of her hand against her eyes. “I thought he was just trying to sabotage your meeting. I thought he wanted to humiliate you. I didn’t know…” Her voice broke. “…I didn’t know an innocent person would die.”
I stared down at her. “How much?”
She hesitated, then named the figure in a quiet whisper.
I looked away, a cold disgust settling in my stomach. That number. That pathetic, insulting sum. Babushka’s life had been priced at less than the cost of a single Romanov board dinner.
“I gave Lev everything,” Inessa stammered, desperate now. “I don’t know why he needed you delayed. I only know he kept calling, asking the same thing over and over: ‘Has the boy come home yet?’”
Something in my chest locked tight.
Has the boy come home yet.
It had never been about stopping me from reaching the meeting. It had been about isolating Nikolai.
I turned back to face her. “Do you know why you’re still breathing?”
She blinked, trembling. “…No.”
“Because Nikolai asked me not to destroy people just because I have the power to do it.”
Tears spilled over her lashes. “I don’t deserve his mercy.”
“No,” I said, stepping toward the door. “You don’t.”
“What happens to me now?” she called out, her voice frantic.
I didn’t turn around. “You leave.”
“…Leave?”
“The charges will be dropped. You’ll be processed and released by morning.”
She went entirely still, unable to process it.
“But listen to me carefully,” I said, pausing with my hand on the heavy iron latch. “If your shadow ever falls over Moscow again, I’ll make sure there isn’t a prison cell in this country deep enough to hide you from me.”
I pulled the door open.
“And Inessa…” I caught her gaze one last time. “…spend whatever life you have left remembering the woman who died so you could take a payout.”
Then I walked out.