Chapter 11
Paola
The elevator doors opened fully, and my heart stopped.
Viktor Kozlov stood in his foyer like he was greeting dinner guests—composed, immaculate in a charcoal suit, arms crossed. Like us, he hadn’t gone to sleep. Behind him stretched a living room of leather and chrome and windows overlooking the river, a dark vein in the pre-dawn light.
And on the couch, slumped and barely conscious, was Bianca.
My breath caught. My sister. My identical twin. A broken mirror image of myself.
Her face was bruised, lip split and swollen. Designer clothes torn and stained with what looked like blood. Two of Viktor's men flanked her—not holding her up, just guarding her like property.
The emotions hit me in waves—horror at seeing her hurt, fury at what she'd done to me, guilt that I still cared despite everything. She'd drugged me. Stolen my life. Disappeared without a word. Then came back to destroy what I'd built with Cesare, to reclaim the position she'd thrown away.
And now she was beaten, broken, being used by Viktor like a discarded tool.
I should hate her. Part of me did. But she was still my sister—still the person who'd shared a womb with me, who'd been my other half for twenty-eight years before she became my betrayer.
The conflicting feelings made me nauseous.
"Please." Viktor gestured expansively. "Come in. All of you. I insist."
Cesare's hand found my back—steady, grounding. His voice dropped to ice. "Viktor. This is unexpected."
"Is it? I've been waiting for you since Bianca arrived. I knew you'd come. You're nothing if not predictable, Cesare."
The insult landed but Cesare didn't react. He stepped forward, his men fanning out behind him—Giulio and the security team, weapons visible but not raised. Yet.
"Let's not pretend this is a social call," Viktor continued, moving deeper into the penthouse. "You came for the documents. And perhaps for her." He gestured dismissively at Bianca.
I looked at my sister—bloodied, scared, used—and despite everything she'd done, I couldn't stop the words.
"What did you do to her?" The question left my mouth before I could stop them.
Viktor's cold blue eyes slid to me. "Me? Nothing. She arrived like this. Apparently, she made some poor choices in Prague. Crossed the wrong people. They sent a message."
Bianca lifted her head slightly at the sound of my voice. Our eyes met across the room.
Recognition. Hatred. Fear. All there in her battered face.
"Paola," she rasped. "You shouldn't have come."
"Neither should you."
Viktor laughed—genuinely amused. "Ah, sisters. Such complicated relationships. Shall we all sit? Discuss this like civilized people?"
"We're not here to discuss," Cesare said flatly. "Give us the documents and we leave. Peacefully."
"And if I refuse?"
Giulio's hand moved fractionally toward his weapon. Viktor's guards responded immediately—weapons drawn, aimed. Two more men appeared from some other room beyond the shadows.
A Mexican standoff. Four of Cesare's men. Four of Viktor's. Too many guns in too small a space.
The smell of gun oil and expensive cologne mixed with something metallic. Blood, probably. Bianca's or someone else's.
"Please," Viktor said, unperturbed by the drawn weapons. "Let's not be hasty. I have a proposition."
"I'm not interested in your propositions," Cesare replied.
"You should be. Because what Bianca brought me is... devastating. For you. For your wife. For your entire organization."
He walked to a bar cart, poured himself vodka. The casual confidence was more intimidating than any threat.
"What's in the documents?" I asked.
Viktor smiled. "Why don't we ask Bianca? After all, she's the one who compiled them."
All eyes turned to Bianca, who'd managed to sit up straighter despite obvious pain.
"Tell them, milaya," Viktor encouraged. "Tell your sister what you sold me."
Bianca's split lip curled into something like a smile. "Insurance. Proof. Everything I needed to destroy the perfect life you stole from me."
"I didn't steal anything." My voice shook with anger. "You drugged me. You abandoned me. You destroyed your own life."
Her features twisted, so familiar that I knew right then what she was feeling. A cocktail of guilt and anger. "You were always the victim, weren't you? Poor Paola. Forgotten Paola. Well, now you'll wish you'd stayed forgotten."
Viktor set down his glass. "The documents contain several interesting items. Bank statements showing suspicious transfers from Lombardo family accounts. Emails between Giovanni Lombardo and certain... unsavory individuals. And most damaging—"
He pulled a folder from his briefcase, held it up.
"—Evidence that Paola Lombardo was aware of certain illegal activities conducted by her father. That she, in fact, helped facilitate them."
My stomach dropped. "That's a lie."
"Is it?" Viktor opened the folder, pulled out pages. "Bank accounts in your name. Emails from your address. Meeting records placing you at locations where deals were made."
"I never—I had nothing to do with my father's business!"
"Perhaps not. But these documents say otherwise. And they look very authentic. Professional. Detailed."
Cesare's voice was deadly quiet. "You forged evidence."
"I? I did nothing. Bianca brought me these documents. Whether they're authentic or fabricated—who can say? But they're convincing enough that the families would demand investigation. Particularly after tonight's... revelations."
The trap closed. Even fake documents would be enough to destroy what was left of Cesare's credibility.
"They're not all fake," Bianca said, voice stronger now. Vicious. "Some of it's real. I had access to Father's files for years. I know where the bodies are buried. Literally and figuratively."
She looked directly at me. "And I know you found some of those files, little sister. Remember when you were sixteen? When you accidentally opened Father's office safe looking for Mother's jewelry?"
My blood ran cold. I did remember. I'd found documents I didn't understand, closed the safe quickly, never mentioned it.
"You saw things you shouldn't have seen. And you were smart enough to stay quiet. But that silence? That makes you complicit. An accessory. You knew about Father's illegal operations and said nothing."
"I was sixteen! I didn't understand what I was looking at!"
"But you knew enough to stay silent. And that's all Viktor needs. Plausible deniability mixed with just enough truth."
Viktor nodded approvingly. "See? Bianca understands how these things work. A lie wrapped in truth is always more effective than pure fabrication."
Cesare's hand tightened on my back. I could feel the violence barely leashed in him.
"What do you want, Viktor?" Cesare demanded. "Cut through the theater. What's your price?"
Viktor returned to his drink, considering. "What I wanted was offered yesterday: your eastern territory, your shipping routes, twenty percent of your operations."
"And I declined."
"Yes. Which brings us to tonight's negotiation. The price has gone up."
"Of course it has."
"Fifty percent. Half of everything you control. In exchange, these documents disappear. Bianca disappears. You keep your wife, your reputation, your position as Don."
The number was obscene. Surrendering half his empire.
"You're insane," Piero said from behind Cesare.
"Am I? Or am I simply recognizing an opportunity?
" Viktor gestured at Bianca. "Your sister-in-law came to me with a gift.
I'd be a fool not to use it. And Cesare—you'd be a fool not to accept.
Because the alternative is exposure, investigation, criminal charges against your wife, and complete loss of credibility among the families. "
"How did you even get Bianca to do this?" I asked, looking at my sister. "Why would you come back? Why would you help him?"
Bianca's composure cracked. "Viktor found me in Prague. I thought I was safe, that I'd disappeared. But he found me within a week."
"And?" Cesare's voice was ice.
"He knew. About the drugging. About what I did to Paola.
" Tears began streaming down her bruised face.
"He had proof—recordings, photos of me buying the sedatives, surveillance of me at the apartment that morning.
Everything. Said he'd give it all to you, show you I was the one who orchestrated the switch. That I was the real criminal."
"You are the real criminal," I said quietly.
"I know." Her voice broke. "But Viktor offered me a deal. Bring him Father's files—evidence he could use against the Monti family—and he'd keep my secret. Protect me."
"So you chose to betray your family instead," Cesare said flatly.
"I chose to survive!" Bianca's voice rose.
"You don't understand what Viktor is capable of.
When I tried to back out, when I said I couldn't do it—" She touched her bruised face, her split lip.
"This wasn't from enemies in Prague. This was from him.
His men. A reminder of what happens if I don't deliver. "
The room went silent.
"The beating was a message," Piero said slowly, understanding. "To keep you in line."
"And to make it look convincing," Bianca admitted bitterly. "To make you all think I was his victim instead of his accomplice. But I am his accomplice. I've been his accomplice since the moment I ran."
Viktor smiled, pleased with her confession. "You see? Motivation is everything. Bianca and I have a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"You're asking me to choose between my empire and my wife," Cesare said slowly.
"I'm asking you to be pragmatic. You can rebuild an empire. You can't rebuild a reputation once it's destroyed."
Before Cesare could respond, I stepped forward, breaking free from his protective hand.
"No. We don't accept."
Everyone turned to look at me. Viktor raised an eyebrow, amused.
"My dear Mrs. Monti, I don't think you understand—"