Chapter 20 – Timofey
I start the investigation as soon as Sofia arrives.
I drop a kiss on Valeria’s forehead and leave her with Sofia, heading straight to my office with Misha. Mike is already there. So is Lukyan.
No one speaks at first.
We don’t waste time with questions we already know the answers won’t satisfy. We go straight to the only thing that matters right now—facts.
We start with the estate security footage.
Every angle. Every corridor. Every kitchen entry. Every timestamp from the hours leading up to Valeria being poisoned.
The room stays quiet as the screens flicker.
One feed after another.
Then something shifts.
I pause the playback.
Rewind.
Play again.
There.
“Elena,” Misha mutters under his breath.
I don’t respond. Not immediately. I just watch.
The maid assigned to Valeria moves through the kitchen on screen. Once. Twice. Then again.
Too often.
Too precise.
Her movements are controlled. Intentional. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing and exactly when no one is watching her do it.
My jaw tightens slightly.
“Who is that?” Mike asks.
“Elena,” Misha answers. “Miss Valeria’s personal maidservant.”
Mike hums.
I replay another segment. Zoom in slightly. Track her path.
She enters the kitchen.
Stays longer than necessary.
Touches items she doesn’t need to touch.
Moves between stations like she’s checking something—not preparing anything.
Testing.
My hand tightens around the edge of the desk.
Misha speaks carefully. “Sir…she was assigned directly to Valeria after the gala incident.”
I know that.
That’s what makes it worse.
Because that assignment came through me. Through control measures I put in place specifically to prevent this exact situation.
And someone still got through.
I sit back slowly in my chair, eyes still on the screen. Watching Elena move again.
Lukyan exhales sharply. “So what are we waiting for? Have her taken to the interrogation room.”
I don’t look away from the monitor.
“Do it,” I say to Misha.
Misha nods once, then moves. He disappears out the door without another word.
Silence settles back into the room. Thick. Uncomfortable.
I drag a hand down my face.
“I gave the order,” I say quietly. “I gave the command for Elena to personally monitor Valeria’s food. It’s all my fault. I—”
I stop myself before the rest comes out.
Mike steps closer and places a hand briefly on my shoulder.
“Don’t blame yourself,” he says. “It happens.”
That doesn’t make it better. It just makes it real.
I exhale slowly through my nose, forcing my mind back into structure instead of guilt. Emotion gets people killed in situations like this. I know that better than anyone.
Lukyan pushes himself up from his seat. “Let’s go to the interrogation room.”
I stand immediately.
We leave the office together, footsteps sharp against the corridor floor. Just as we reach the interrogation room, the doors open from the other side.
Elena is brought in under heavy guard.
She doesn’t struggle. Doesn’t resist. Doesn’t even look around the room the way most people do when they realize where they are.
Her expression is calm. Composed. Almost too steady.
No fear.
No regret.
That alone tells me more than anything else so far.
The guards seat her at the table and step back immediately. The room resets into silence.
Lukyan takes a position near the wall, arms folded, watching carefully without speaking. Misha stays behind me. Mike stands off to the side, expression unreadable.
I step forward.
Slow. Controlled.
Elena finally looks at me.
Still calm. Still intact.
I don’t waste time. I don’t offer her the comfort of ambiguity. I turn the tablet toward her. The CCTV footage plays.
Kitchen. Movement. Timing. Repetition.
Her presence in places she shouldn’t be. Her hands where they don’t belong.
I watch her face as she watches it.
Nothing shifts immediately.
No surprise. No panic.
Just awareness.
Like she’s been waiting for this moment longer than I have.
I stop the video.
“Explain it,” I say flatly.
Elena leans back slightly in her chair, eyes still on the screen for a moment longer before she looks up at me again.
Her voice is calm when she finally speaks.
“I know when I’ve been defeated,” she says quietly. “And I’d rather go down with my pride intact.” A beat. “I’ve been working for Anton Petrov since the beginning.”
The room doesn’t react immediately.
Not because the words aren’t heavy—but because everyone is processing the timing, the access, the proximity. The fact that she was inside the house while we believed the threat was outside it.
Elena continues, unfazed.
“My role in this household wasn’t random,” she says. “It was arranged. Carefully. To place me close enough to Valeria for when the opportunity came.”
My jaw tightens slightly.
Lukyan exhales through his nose, low and sharp. Misha shifts behind me but says nothing. Mike’s expression hardens, eyes fixed on her like he’s trying to decide if she’s reckless or simply finished caring.
I step forward just slightly.
“Why?” I ask. Not louder. Not emotional. Just direct. “Why betray our trust?”
Elena finally looks at me properly now.
And there’s still no fear in her eyes. No hesitation. No attempt at survival.
Only certainty.
“Because Anton’s victory is inevitable,” she says. “You’re just delaying it.”
Silence drops heavier this time.
She continues before anyone interrupts.
“The Rusnaks cannot protect Valeria forever,” she adds. “And when Anton takes what he’s coming for, it won’t matter who you punish here.”
Something cold settles in my chest. Not anger yet. Something worse. Calculation turning sharper. Focus narrowing.
I study her for a long moment.
She’s not bargaining. Not begging. Not even performing loyalty anymore. She’s simply…finished.
I lean forward slightly.
“Who else is inside my house?” I ask quietly. “Names.”
Elena lets out a small laugh. It’s soft. Almost amused.
“That’s for you to find out,” she says. “Isn’t that what you do best?”
Silence follows immediately.
I stare at her for a long moment longer, whip out my gun, and plant a bullet in her head. Her body sags against the table as blood spurts into the air.
Behind me, I feel Lukyan shift slightly. Mike doesn’t move at all. I exhale slowly through my nose and slide my gun back into place.
“Take the body.”
My voice is steady. Flat. Final.
The guards move immediately, dragging the consequences of this room out with them. The door opens, then shuts again, and for a moment, the silence that follows feels heavier than anything that came before it.
I turn away as they clean up what’s left of the space. I don’t watch. I don’t need to.
The weight of the war hangs in the room like something physical now—pressing, unavoidable, absolute. There’s no pretending this is contained anymore. No illusion of control that still holds.
I turn slightly toward my brothers. My voice drops lower.
“This isn’t isolated anymore,” I say quietly.
Lukyan meets my gaze. He understands immediately what I mean. No questions needed.
Mike exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “No,” he agrees. “It’s not.”
I look at both of them for a moment.
The room feels different now. Not just because of what just happened—but because of what it confirms. Everything we’ve been tracking, every move Anton has made, every infiltration, every warning…it wasn’t noise. It was preparation.
I speak again, quieter this time.
“Anton Petrov has declared war on the Rusnaks. This isn’t the first time, but let’s tell the others and make it the last. This time, let’s end this before he takes away the most important thing in my life.”