14. Aria
ARIA
The guilt crashes over me like a wave.
I was wrong.
Maksim wasn’t the traitor. He wasn’t planning to kill his brother. I heard “he came up with half the plan himself” and assumed it meant Maksim. But it didn’t. It meant someone else—maybe one of the Corsicans, or another member of Alexander’s conspiracy. But not Maksim.
Eight years. Eight years of struggling to feed Daniel and watching him go to bed hungry some nights because I couldn’t afford groceries and rent both. Eight years of Maksim throwing himself into work to avoid the pain of losing me.
All because I misunderstood and was too stupid to verify what I heard before I ran.
The sobs come from somewhere deep inside, wrenching and violent. I can’t breathe through them while the enormity of what I’ve done crashes down on me.
“I ruined everything,” I breathe while I sob. “You-you lost out on Daniel because I was too terrified and fucking stupid—”
“Stop.” Maksim’s arms are around me, pulling me into his chest. “Stop, moya. You didn’t ruin anything.”
How can he say this to me? How can he be so forgiving?
“I did!” I exclaim, wiping tears and snot off my face. “I kept your son from you! I—”
“You were twenty-one years old and you witnessed a murder.” His voice is firm, cutting through my spiral. “You protected our son. That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”
I shake my head. “But I was wrong about you—”
“You made a decision based on the information you had,” Maksim says firmly.
“You saw me execute someone then heard plans to kill my brother. From where you were standing, it looked like I was involved.” He pulls back so he can look at me, his hands framing my face, his dark eyes locked on mine.
“You’re not stupid, Aria, and you’re certainly not a coward.
You’re a mother who did what she thought she had to do to keep her child safe. ”
Tears spill down my cheeks as self-hatred grows within me. “Daniel could have grown up with everything he deserves. Instead he was—”
He places a finger over my lips. “But he’s here now. And he’s safe and happy.” Maksim’s thumbs brush away my tears. “And you kept him alive to get here. That’s what matters.”
I shake my head, unable to accept his forgiveness. “You searched for eight years. I know you did. I know you never stopped looking.”
“No, I didn’t.” There’s pain in his eyes, but no anger. “Because I loved you and needed to know what happened. But you know what I found when I finally found you?”
I can’t speak; just shake my head.
He strokes my hair lovingly. “A woman who’d done everything she could to keep our son safe. Who’d sacrificed her own comfort, her own dreams, her own life to make sure he survived.” His voice breaks slightly. “You did exactly what a mother should do, Aria, and I’m not angry at you for it.”
The words break something in me, and I collapse against his chest, sobbing harder. He holds me while I fall apart. He doesn’t try to stop the tears, murmuring Russian words I don’t understand but that sound like comfort and home.
Eventually the sobs subside into hiccups then into shaky breathing. I’m exhausted, wrung out, but also lighter somehow. Like the truth has released some of the weight I’ve been carrying.
“Tell me again,” Maksim says quietly, his hand never stopping its slow rhythmic stroke to my head. “Everything you remember from that night. Every word.”
So I do. I recount it all—the warehouse, the execution, watching him leave, Alexander and the unknown man, every fragment of conversation I can remember.
Maksim’s expression gets darker with each detail.
“The Cyprus accounts,” he mutters, raking a hand through his own hair so it stands up. “The same accounts I’ve been investigating. The irregularities Alexander kept explaining away.”
I blink. None of this is making any sense to me. “What are you talking about?”
Maksim lets the full effect of his gaze land on me and he looks pissed.
“I’ve been tracking financial discrepancies for months.
Money flows through Cyprus, then Luxembourg, then the Caymans.
Alexander always had explanations, but something felt wrong.
” He scowls. “Eight years ago, they were setting up those accounts to fund the move against Nikolai and they’re still active. ”
It feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. “Y-you think he’s still planning it?”
Maksim nods curtly. “I think he’s been waiting for the right moment.” His jaw clenches with anger. “He’s been extraordinarily patient. But he’s going to move soon. I can feel it.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of it settling over us.
“What time is it?” I finally ask. I’m exhausted but still too wired to sleep, especially with Nikolai arriving soon.
Maksim checks his watch. “Three forty. Nikolai should be here soon.”
Fear spikes through me. “What if he doesn’t believe me?” I whisper.
“Then we convince him.”
I stare at him in disbelief. How can he be so assured? “Maksim, need I remind you that I have no proof. It’s my word against a man he’s trusted for fifteen years.” My breathing is starting to speed up. “Why would he believe me?”
“Because I believe you. And Nikolai trusts my judgment,” Maksim said confidently, if not a little arrogantly. I want to strangle him.
“Not when it comes to me.” I stand up, pacing. “He’s going to think I’m a liar and—”
The intercom buzzes. “Nikolai Sokolov is here.”
A whimper comes out of my mouth. Maksim stands and crosses to me, taking my hands. “Breathe, moya,” he whispers. “We tell him the truth. We show him the footage. And we trust that he’ll see reason.”
I nod, even though I don’t believe it. This will not go well.
“Send him up,” Maksim tells the intercom.
Two minutes later, Nikolai walks into the office.
When I saw him last, he wore a suit and was the polished, controlled Bratva leader.
Now, at nearly four in the morning, there are cracks in that facade.
His dark hair is slightly mussed. He’s wearing dark jeans and a black long sleeved shirt, clearly dressed in whatever was closest when Maksim called.
But even in casual clothes and exhausted, he radiates authority and danger.
The scar along his jawline stands out in the lamplight, and his eyes—those cold gray eyes so like Maksim’s but utterly without warmth—sweep over me with the same dismissive assessment I remember from before.
His eyes land on Maksim. “This better be good,” he says, irritated. “You said it was urgent and I was to trust no one.” He glances at me again. “I assume this has something to do with her?”
“Sit down.” Maksim gestures to the chair across from his desk. “We need to talk about Alexander.”
Nikolai’s irritated expression deepens. “We’ve been over this. The financial irregularities have explanations.”
“This isn’t about the finances.” Maksim pulls up the warehouse footage on his laptop. “Aria witnessed something eight years ago on the night of the Red Hook execution.”
Nikolai’s gaze shifts to me and what I see in his eyes makes my blood run cold. He sees me as a problem. A threat to his organization.
“Sit,” he orders me, pointing to the chair beside Maksim’s desk.
I sit because my legs are shaking too badly to stand.
Nikolai leans back in his chair, his posture deceptively relaxed. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands are perfectly still on the armrests. This is a man who’s completely in control.
“And what exactly did you see?” His voice is soft and almost pleasant which somehow makes it worse.
I glance at Maksim, who nods encouragingly.
“I saw—” My voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again, willing myself to be brave. “I saw Maksim and Alexander execute a man. The accountant who’d been stealing from the Cyprus accounts.”
“And?” Nikolai’s expression doesn’t change. Oh god, I’m going to be sick.
“And then Maksim left. To get the van, I think.” I lick my dry lips nervously. “And another man came in. I-I’ve never seen him before. He had a strange accent. He and Alexander talked for several minutes.”
“About?” Still that pleasant, terrifying softness.
“About the accountant being handled. The Cyprus accounts. About moving against—” I swallow hard, my breathing picking up. “About moving against you in three to four months. He said—he said your guard was down, and how you trusted Alexander completely.”
There’s a heavy, suffocating silence.
Then Nikolai laughs and I freeze. It’s not a pleasant sound.
“This is what you brought me here for?” He turns to Maksim, his eyes hard.
“The word of a woman who ran from you for eight years, kept your son in poverty, and has every reason to manipulate you?” He shakes his head.
“She accuses Alexander—my most trusted man for fifteen years—of treason based on an overheard conversation from eight years ago that she can’t prove? ”
“She can describe Alexander in detail—” Maksim starts.
“She’s met him multiple times at this estate!
” Nikolai’s voice rises slightly, the first crack in his composure.
“Of course she can describe him! She’s had dinner with him and has probably studied him!
” He stands abruptly. “You’re thinking with your dick, brother.
This woman has you twisted around her finger. ”
I flinch at the crude assessment, heat flooding my face.
Nikolai turns his cold gaze on me. “She tells you what you want to hear—that she ran because she was protecting your son from some grand conspiracy, not because she’s selfish or a coward or simply didn’t want to be tied to a man in our world.
She paints herself as a victim, as a brave mother doing what she had to do, when in reality she’s a woman who destroyed your life and is now scrambling to justify it. ”
The words hit like physical blows. Each one lands perfectly, cutting deep into every insecurity I have.
“That’s not—” I try to speak, but my voice is too small.