Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vivienne
Something had shifted in the air around the estate.
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of my second-floor guest room, watching the security personnel on the lawn below.
The number of black-suited enforcers who'd patrolled like iron towers had clearly thinned out, replaced by two highly equipped tactical teams. They wore black Kevlar vests, gripped compact submachine guns, and had eyes sharp as hawks.
In the east garage sat two black armored SUVs I'd never seen before—clearly bulletproofed, their windows the kind of thick ballistic glass that could stop a sniper rifle.
Nikolai was reinforcing defenses.
Or more accurately, he was preparing for war.
I pulled my gaze back and returned to my desk, staring at the blinking cursor on my laptop.
Something big was about to happen.
But I was locked in here, knowing nothing.
Especially since... I was hiding a secret.
My hand drifted to my stomach. Unease twisted inside me.
Knock knock.
Two restrained taps, then Natasha pushed a cart through the door.
"Ms. Cole, your breakfast." She set a bowl of warm oatmeal on the coffee table, tidying my cluttered desk as she added casually, "Also, the estate gardeners are coming this afternoon for routine lawn maintenance.
They'll need to open the east side gate for a few hours.
If the noise bothers you, I can close your windows. "
"It's fine. Leave them open." I rubbed my throbbing temples without looking up. My mind was full of that world-shattering secret at the bottom of the bathroom trash can—I had no energy left to think about damn lawn maintenance.
"Understood." Natasha paused. "Also, sir instructed the kitchen to prepare those strawberry croissants you like. I'll bring them up shortly."
I stopped.
He was still trying to "buy" me with food.
"Don't bother." My tone was cold. "I'm not hungry."
"Ms. Cole—"
"I said don't bother." I cut her off, irritation creeping into my voice.
Natasha fell silent for several seconds before finally retreating.
I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and exhaled deeply.
I sat at my desk, forcing myself to focus on the words on screen. In my manuscript, Aleksei stood in a pool of blood, facing the brother who'd betrayed him—
"Ms. Cole."
Natasha reappeared in the doorway. This time, her eternally impassive face carried a rare trace of gravity.
"What is it?" I stopped typing.
"Old Mr. Volkov sent a car." Natasha stood by the door, voice low, as if discussing an ordinary tea invitation. "He says there are some things he'd like to discuss with you in person."
I froze, then laughed bitterly inside. That cold-blooded old man from the Maryland ancestral estate who only cared about profits—what could he want with me?
"Tell him I'm busy." I turned back around coldly, fingers returning to the keyboard. "I don't want to see anyone from the Volkov family."
"He anticipated your refusal." Natasha didn't leave.
Instead, she lowered her voice further. "But he asked me to give you a name—Derek.
He says Derek holds certain lethal cards that Mr. Volkov knows nothing about.
He's old, doesn't want to watch the family destroy itself through infighting, and needs a go-between.
He believes you're the most suitable person. "
My fingers froze on the keyboard.
Derek. Marchetti. Old Volkov.
These three names assembled like puzzle pieces in my mind, slowly forming a blurry outline.
I remembered long ago, at some underworld gathering, Sasha had casually mentioned—"Derek and Marchetti's people showed up at the same restaurant."
I remembered that page in my notebook about Derek, with the big question mark drawn beside it.
If old Volkov really had crucial information...
If I could get something useful to Nikolai...
I bit my lip.
These past days of cold war had frozen our relationship. What I owed him wasn't just his protection—it was the trouble I'd caused. If not for me, he wouldn't be questioned by family elders, wouldn't be forced into all-out war with Marchetti.
My heart began pounding violently.
Maybe this was an opportunity.
A chance to prove I wasn't dead weight, wasn't just some vase hiding behind him.
"I'll change." I snapped the laptop shut.
I changed into a simple black sweater and jeans, pulled my hair into a casual ponytail, and left the room.
At the staircase landing, I ran into Sasha.
He saw my outfit, and his brow furrowed immediately. "Ms. Cole, you're going out?"
"Yes." I kept my voice calm. "The old Mr. Volkov wants to see me. Says he has information about Derek."
Sasha's expression darkened instantly. "Does Pakhan know?"
"No." I met his eyes, my tone hardening. "And I'm not planning to tell him. Sasha, I'm just going to listen. There's no danger. You can come with me. If you don't let me leave, I'll jump off the second-floor balcony."
Sasha's jaw clenched tight. "Ms. Cole, old Volkov is no saint. His relationship with Pakhan is extremely complicated. Him asking to meet you alone—he's probably trying to use you."
"I know." I nodded. "That's why I need you with me."
Sasha stared at me for a full ten seconds before finally surrendering.
"Two escort vehicles. I stay in your car." Sasha's warning was deadly serious. "And from start to finish, you don't leave my side by more than two steps."
"Deal."
The car left the estate, following the Potomac River north.
The scenery outside shifted from bustling downtown to quiet suburbs, finally stopping at a private club hidden in the woods.
Sasha exited first, scanning the surroundings alertly. Only after confirming no danger did he open my door.
Two black-suited guards stood at the club entrance. One nodded when he saw us.
"Ms. Cole, Mr. Volkov is waiting in the second-floor tea room."
I followed the guard inside, Sasha tight behind me, hand always positioned near his concealed weapon.
The tea room was quiet, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, the air scented with faint tea fragrance.
Old Volkov sat by the window in a charcoal cashmere sweater, hair impeccably groomed. He looked like a kindly old man, not an underworld elder with blood on his hands.
"Ms. Cole." Seeing me, he smiled warmly and gestured. "Please, sit."
I sat across from him. Sasha stood behind me, eyes alertly scanning every corner.
"Why did you want to see me?" I cut straight to it.
Old Volkov poured me tea with elegant movements.
"I heard you and Nikolai have had some... unpleasantness lately?"
My expression went cold instantly. "That's none of your business."
"Of course, of course." Old Volkov smiled. "I'm merely concerned about my son's personal life. After all, as a father, one always hopes for one's son's happiness, no?"
Bullshit.
So he knew nothing about Derek at all.
He'd just tricked me here to deliver a warning.
I stared at him coldly, saying nothing.
Old Volkov's smile faded, his tone turning serious.
"Ms. Cole, I asked you here today to propose a deal."
"What deal?"
"Leave Nikolai." He looked directly into my eyes, enunciating each word. "Leave him voluntarily. Leave this family, leave Washington. In exchange, I'll give you money—enough for the rest of your life."
I froze for a second, then couldn't help laughing.
"Are you joking?"
"I never joke." Old Volkov's tone went cold. "Ms. Cole, you're intelligent. You should see how dangerous Nikolai's position is. Externally, the Marchetti family circles like vultures. Internally, family elders question him. Your presence only makes things harder."
"So you think I should leave for his own good?" I laughed coldly. "You know how ridiculous that sounds?"
"It's not ridiculous. It's reality." Old Volkov leaned back, his tone carrying condescending arrogance.
"You're just an ordinary novelist, Ms. Cole.
You don't understand underworld rules, don't understand power games.
Staying beside Nikolai, you can't help him—you'll only become his weak spot, a target for enemies to attack. "
He paused, his tone growing more aggressive.
"If you truly care about him, you should leave voluntarily. It's the best choice for him."
I stared at old Volkov, fury burning hotter inside me.
"You know what, old man?" I spoke slowly, voice cold as ice. "What you just said—it's identical to what Nikolai told me. You two are exactly alike—both love doing the most hurtful things under the banner of 'for your good.'"
Old Volkov's expression shifted slightly.
"Nikolai said he monitored me to protect me. You say I should leave for his good." I laughed coldly and stood. "But neither of you asked what I want. Neither of you treated me like someone capable of independent thought."
I looked directly into old Volkov's eyes.
"Whether I'm dead weight, whether I'm a weakness—that's not for you to judge. My relationship with Nikolai isn't yours to interfere with. As for your money—"
I picked up the teacup and threw it in his face without mercy.
"Keep it yourself."
Old Volkov's face went livid, tea dripping down his carefully groomed hair. He looked utterly wretched.
"You—"
"Sasha, we're leaving." I turned and strode toward the door without looking back.
Sasha immediately followed, using his body to shield me from old Volkov in case he lashed out.
"Ms. Cole!" Old Volkov roared behind me. "You'll regret this! You'll get Nikolai killed!"
I stopped, turned my head, and looked at him coldly.
"If he really dies because of me, at least it was his choice. At least he died for someone he cared about—not like you, sacrificing even your own son for power and profit."
With that, I walked out of the tea room without another glance.
On the drive back, the car was oppressively silent. Outside, darkness had fallen, and fine cold rain began to fall.
Just as our convoy entered a deserted street lined with tall plane trees, a terrible disaster struck without warning!
Behind us came a savage roar of engines! Two unlicensed black heavy-duty pickups charged from behind like mad bulls.
"Speed up! Dodge!" Sasha yanked his Glock from his waist and roared at the driver.
Too late.
Before the driver could wrench the wheel, a heavy armored truck burst from the intersection ahead, stopping brutally across the road, completely blocking our escape!
Deafening gunfire tore through the rainy night!
Large-caliber automatic rifle bullets poured down on our vehicle like a torrential storm. The bulletproof glass shattered under the terrifying impact, spiderweb cracks instantly spreading across the entire window.
"Fuck!"
Their firepower was too fierce, too sudden! Though Nikolai's men were professional, they were immediately outmatched in this ambush. The lead car ahead had been riddled with bullets, its driver slumped over the wheel, blood staining the windshield.
"Ms. Cole, get down!"
Sasha brutally shoved me onto the back seat floor, kicked open the deformed car door, and fired three precise shots, killing two gunmen closing in from the side.
"Follow me!"
He hauled me forcibly from the car, using his back to shield me from stray bullets, dragging me toward a dark alley off the street.
Rain mixed with acrid gunpowder and blood filled my nostrils. I'd lost my heels running, broken glass on the cobblestones cutting my feet, but I felt no pain.
Absolute terror gripped my heart. I was carrying Nikolai's child—I couldn't die here!
"Pakhan, we're under attack—" Sasha returned fire while shouting into his earpiece.
Just as we were about to burst from the alley's end—
A massive black shape lunged from behind a dumpster in the visual dead zone!
A perfect ambush.
Sasha's reflexes were lightning-fast, but to protect me, he took the thick steel pipe that flew from the side.
A dull thud—Sasha's head snapped from the blow.
In that half-second as he fell, a pair of thick arms locked around my neck from behind.
Before I could even scream, a coarse, musty-smelling hood was brutally shoved over my head, plunging my world into absolute darkness.
"Mmph—let go—"
I thrashed wildly, my fingers clawing at the man's arms.
"Stay still, you little bitch!" The man punched me brutally. My head exploded in pain. I lost all ability to resist and was hoisted up like a sack of flour.
But in that brief second before I lost consciousness, I caught a distinctive scent.
An expensive custom cologne—Sicilian bergamot mixed with cheap Cuban cigar smoke.
That smell. I'd smelled it at the charity gala, when that nauseating, greasy grin had leaned close to me.
Carmine Marchetti.