Chapter 23 – Sebastian
Dawn breaks warm and pale, streaks of honey-gold spilling across the studio as I stand over the table of documents, Marko beside me, piecing together the final strike.
Konstantin had sent everything overnight—proof of Mikhailov’s laundering, falsified provenance logs he’s used against half the galleries in Europe, encrypted communications linking him to stolen Vatican artifacts.
The evidence is catastrophic.
Perfect.
I let my hand brush across the top sheet, feeling the weight of it—not just paper, but leverage, justice, control. Marko shifts beside me, quiet, efficient. He knows this is the kind of morning you never forget.
“Everything’s here,” I murmur, voice low, deliberate. “Every threat, every lie, every manipulation. He won’t see this coming.”
Mikhailov signed the confession yesterday.
But that isn’t the end.
It’s only the beginning.
A legal retraction clears my name.
A signed statement protects my galleries.
Disclaimers will explain how he framed me.
None of that destroys him.
And I don’t want him merely exposed.
I want him seen.
I want the world to understand exactly who Viktor Mikhailov is—the kind of man who weaponizes women’s pain, who forges histories, who hides rot behind curated respectability. The kind of man who tried to turn my wife into a villain to disguise his own corruption.
He painted Sienna as manipulative.
Vindictive.
Calculating.
So I make sure the truth reflects back at him.
We release the evidence in layers. Financial crimes first—enough to rattle investors. Then the provenance fraud, tied directly to cultural theft. Then the communications. The threats. The coercion. The language he used when he thought no one would ever hear him.
By the time the final documents surface, the narrative has already turned.
The elevator door opens, and Sienna steps out, holding a steaming cup of coffee. She’s wearing my shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair mussed from sleep and all the sex we had last night. Her presence fills the room before she even speaks.
She greets Marko, who responds with a grin, and they trade a few playful jabs before he excuses us.
Sienna steps closer, eyes locked on me, and hands me the cup. “Black. Just how you like it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”
She smirks, a hint of mischief under the warmth. “I watch you.”
I take a slow sip, letting the bitter warmth settle in, and then set the mug down. I open my arms.
She moves into me without hesitation, fitting perfectly as if the space was always hers. Her head rests against my chest, and I feel her inhale deeply, finally relaxed.
I press a kiss to the top of her hair, fingers tangling in it gently. “You know,” I murmur, voice low, “watching you is…dangerous.”
She lifts her face just enough to smirk up at me. “Dangerous how?”
“Because every time I do, I forget the rest of the world exists.”
Her lips brush mine, soft, teasing, and yet full of promise. I hold her closer, letting the moment stretch—sweet, quiet, a calm after the storm.
“You didn’t sleep,” she murmurs against my chest.
“Didn’t need to.” My thumb strokes down her spine, slow, grounding. “I have everything ready.”
She pulls back, eyes scanning the mountain of files spread across the table. “You’re going to expose him?”
“No.”
Her brow furrows, confusion written plain. “What?”
“I’m going to let him destroy himself.”
Her inhale is sharp. “And…how?”
I explain, measured, low, letting her absorb each word:
“Mikhailov is paranoid. He’s been staging a coup within his own family for years. Terrified of betrayal. That’s why he recruited you quietly—because he doesn’t trust his own men. If these documents appear in his inbox anonymously, he’ll believe one of his brothers is turning against him.”
Sienna blinks, her breath catching. “And he’ll retaliate?”
“Hard.” I kiss the top of her head. “But you won’t be involved.”
Her green eyes widen, and realization blooms, sharp and exhilarating. “He’ll collapse his own network?”
I nod. “And we’ll be standing on the sidelines, untouched.”
A slow, dangerous pride unfurls inside her. She tilts her face up to me, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re brilliant.”
I press a kiss to her forehead, soft, reverent. “I know.”
She shivers under my touch, and I can feel her pulse matching mine, the quiet thrill of the storm we’ve survived—and the one we’ve set into motion.
“Your husband is one smart fucker.”
Her laughter softens the room, a delicate melody against the hum of papers and documents.
I reach for a sealed envelope. “And this,” I say, voice low, measured, “is for the authorities. It includes enough information to dismantle his secondary operations. Not the family—just him.”
Sienna swallows, eyes wide. “You’re destroying him completely.”
I meet her gaze, calm, unflinching. “He went after you. That’s unforgivable.”
She exhales, a mixture of relief and lingering tension in her shoulders. Her hand lifts to cup my cheeks. “Sebastian, I don’t want blood on your conscience because of me.”
I hold her wrists gently. “This isn’t vengeance, Sienna. It’s justice. For both of us.”
She nods slowly, taking it in.
I release her hands, but not before pulling her close enough to let her feel it—my commitment, my certainty. “Now,” I say, voice lighter, warmer, “I want you to start planning your gallery, your private museum. I’ll make it happen for you. I’m going to support you, in every way possible.”
A smile curls on her lips. She turns to leave, and on impulse, I playfully slap her ass. She laughs, a sound so pure it makes my chest tighten, and walks away, still grinning.
I watch her go, the edges of the room blurred by my focus on her. My heart swells—full, certain, unshakable. I’m in love with her.
The realization doesn’t shock me. I welcome it.
Marko steps back into the room, raising an eyebrow. “Why the smile?”
I roll my eyes, take a slow sip of my coffee, and shrug.
He shakes his head, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Took you long enough to realize it.”
I set the mug down and square my shoulders. “Let’s get back to work.”
We spend the next hour assembling packets, drafting anonymous drops, and coordinating with Lev and Dimitri for dissemination.
Every movement feels deliberate, precise, like shedding old skin—moving from darkness into something cleaner, safer.
My mind hums with focus, each step a small, perfect strike against the man who tried to ruin everything.
Marko double-checks the encrypted files while I stack the envelopes, each one containing the proof of Mikhailov’s lies, theft, and manipulation.
Konstantin’s overnight intel is flawless—communications, financial transfers, forged provenance logs, links to stolen Vatican artifacts—all ready to expose him fully.
Finally, we send the first batch anonymously. I watch the digital confirmations ping in, each one a pulse in the network that will soon collapse under Mikhailov’s paranoia.
“He’ll destroy himself before he even knows what hit him,” I murmur, almost to myself.
Marko glances at me, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Perfection.”
I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of the last five years start to lift. Outside, the city moves on, unaware of the storm we’ve set in motion—but inside, everything has changed. Justice isn’t just coming; it’s inevitable.
That evening, I head out with Lev, Dimitri, Roman, and Konstantin. The city lights blur past the windows as we settle into a corner of our favorite bar, a place that’s seen its fair share of victories, but tonight feels different. Tonight, it’s ours.
Vodka flows freely, glasses clinking, the warmth spreading through my chest. I raise mine, catching the eyes of each brother. “To victory,” I say, voice steady, confident.
They meet my gaze and raise their own, grins wide, the tension of the last few days dissolving into laughter and camaraderie. “To victory,” they echo.
We toast, and the sound of glass on glass feels like a drumbeat of finality. Every smile, every laugh, carries the weight of what we’ve survived—and what we’ve won.
Dimitri leans back, swirling the vodka in his glass. “So…what’s next for you and Sienna?” he asks, eyes flicking toward me.
I glance at him and shrug, a small, excited smile tugging at my lips. “She wants to start a private gallery and an art museum. She talked to me about it yesterday.”
Roman arches an eyebrow. “Both? Or just one of these ventures?”
“For now…both,” I reply.
Konstantin leans in, voice level but impressed. “That’s a big project. But since she’s already a recognized name in the art world, it’ll be easier to get the right backing and attention.”
I lift my glass, feeling the heat of pride coil in my chest. “I’m going to back her. Every step of the way. She’ll have everything she needs to make it hers—her vision, her rules.”
Dimitri smirks knowingly. “Looks like you’ve finally met your match, brother. Not just in strength, but in ambition.”
I meet his gaze, a faint grin tugging at my lips. “She’s brilliant. She deserves every chance to prove it. And I’ll make sure she gets it.”
Roman shakes his head, laughing softly. “Then here’s to the gallery, the museum…and to Sienna. May she take the art world by storm.”
Glasses clink again, laughter spilling across the table.
Lev leans back, smirking. “Safe to say, Sebastian…you’re in love with Sienna.”
I don’t argue. I just raise my glass to hide the smile threatening to break across my face.
Roman snorts. “About time, brother.”
Dimitri chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen you like this. She’s got you completely.”
Lev grins, leaning forward. “Remember how miserable he looked when I told him he’d be getting married? Look at him now. He’s…different. Happier. Calmer.”
Dimitri chuckles. “At least you won’t disappear on us anymore. Now that you have a wife, you can’t just be a ghost.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “What about you? You left the business and went to France to start anew. At least I’m still in the game.”
Dimitri nods. “Now that Vivian and I have a little one, I don’t want my son to grow up involved in all this.”
Roman leans back, thoughtful. “It’s different when you start having children. Suddenly, safety isn’t just your own concern. You put them first.”
Konstantin smirks, swirling his glass. “That’s why I’m never having kids. Can’t worry about any human being. Too selfish. I only worry about myself.”
Lev laughs, shaking his head at Konstantin’s smugness. “Keep saying that until you meet someone who’ll poke at that heart of yours.”
Konstantin shrugs, unapologetic. “Maybe. But not enough to risk sleep or freedom.”
I arch a brow. “You’ve never been in love?”
“Never,” he says easily, lifting his glass. “And I’m not about to start now.”
The night rolls on like that—vodka flowing, laughter loud, the weight of everything we’ve survived finally easing off our shoulders. By the time we part ways, my chest feels lighter than it has in years. Victorious. Grounded. Whole.
When I return home, I’m still smiling.
The suite is dim, with warm light spilling from the lamps. Sienna stands near the bed, dressed in black lace that leaves very little to the imagination. She smiles when she sees me, slow and knowing.
“Where were you?” she asks.
“With my brothers,” I say, shrugging out of my jacket. “Celebrating.”
Her eyes soften. Proud. Happy for me. For us.
I cross the room in three strides and climb onto the bed, pulling her into my arms. She fits there like she always has.
“Have you made any inquiries about the gallery?” I ask, tilting my head to catch her gaze.
She smiles, eyes bright. “Already talking to people. Feels…real. Like it’s actually going to happen.”
I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Then I’ll back you in whatever you want to do. Every step. Every decision.”
She opens her mouth to reply, but a soft rumble interrupts her.
I pull back slightly, arching an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you eat?”
She hesitates, cheeks coloring. “I…was waiting for you.”
I frown, shaking my head. “Waiting for me? If you’d called, I’d have been back here at the speed of light!” I pull her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”
She laughs, the sound light and musical, and follows me without protest.