Chapter 16 – Vivian
I wake up the next morning to absolute quiet. No rustle of Dimitri’s movements, no low murmur of him whispering my name like he does every morning. Just the faint hum of the city outside, the sheets slipping from my shoulders, and the quiet rhythm of my own heartbeat.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet brushing the cold floor, and glance around the room. Empty. No sign of him.
My chest tightens. Part of me panics—did he leave? Did something happen? My thoughts start spinning like they always do when he’s not right there, like I might lose him if I even blink.
I’m about to rise from the bed when I notice a folded piece of paper tucked in the bedside table. My fingers tremble slightly as I pull it out. The handwriting is sharp, precise—Dimitri. “I am going to work. Will be back soon. Stay inside.”
I roll my eyes, muttering under my breath. Stay inside. He couldn’t have waited for me to wake like he usually does. What could possibly be so urgent that he left before me? After everything last night, after hours spent tangled together, does the world really demand that I be abandoned at dawn?
I let the sheets slide off me and pad barefoot toward the bathroom.
The floor is cold against my toes, and I shiver.
My reflection greets me from the mirror: messy hair sticking to my forehead, eyes half-lidded and still heavy with sleep, lips faintly swollen.
I frown at the tired version of myself staring back.
The shower is hot, the water scalding at first, and I let it cascade over me.
Steam curls around my face as I close my eyes, letting it wash away some of the panic.
But I can’t fully shake the nagging thought: Why didn’t he wait?
It isn’t just the timing. It’s that persistent pull, the knowing that Dimitri’s life is a whirlwind I’m always trying to catch up to—and that sometimes I’ll never keep pace.
I finally step out of the shower, water dripping down my back, and wrap a towel around myself. I have to navigate the world today without him by my side. And for the first time in a long time, that thought terrifies me. I realize that I may have gotten used to Dimitri by my side.
I know he said stay inside, but I’ll be damned if I let him control my life even in his absence. Something about this quiet morning feels like the calm before a storm, and I’m tired of being left in the dark.
After breakfast, I slip quietly from the kitchen, careful to avoid Kyle, and make my way to the hall. My heart hammers against my ribs as I punch in the code to Dimitri’s office. I saw him enter it last night. We had sex in here, before he carried me to the bedroom.
The door slides open, revealing the study in all its imposing glory. Floor-to-ceiling windows, dark wood panels, the faint scent of expensive leather and cigars lingering in the air.
I pause at the threshold, taking it all in. This is his sanctuary, the command center where he plots and calculates. And today, I need to step inside it, even if it feels like stepping into enemy territory.
I move carefully, eyes scanning the polished desk, the neatly stacked folders, the laptop left open from last night.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating.
Every file could be a lead, every folder a clue about the attacks.
My pulse quickens, but I push the nerves aside.
I need answers, and Dimitri isn’t here to stop me.
I slide into the chair, leaning over the open laptop.
Screens filled with surveillance footage, reports, and coded emails flash before me.
I click through, looking for any connection to the shooters, any hint of who is orchestrating this chaos.
My pulse is loud in my ears, matching the frantic scroll of my fingers across the trackpad.
He said my family has a hand in this—and I believe him. Wholeheartedly. But I need something concrete. What exactly is my family doing? What do they have to gain? And why does Dimitri look at me sometimes like he’s holding back a truth sharp enough to cut us both?
I keep digging.
That’s when I see it.
A folder tucked almost too neatly between surveillance reports on the desk. It’s titled Koval Operations – Active Leads. The folder is sealed.
Which means Dimitri hasn’t opened it yet. Or…he didn’t want to.
My breath stutters. My finger hesitates over the file. I shouldn’t open this. But I do.
The file unseals with a soft click, and I browse the contents quickly. PDFs. Scans. Transaction logs. Names.
I read the first document.
And my world tilts.
My mother’s maiden name. Dubois.
Not adjacent. Not peripheral.
Owner of the account receiving and sending payments to Koval’s network.
The same Koval who tried to kill me.
The same Koval who bombed Dimitri’s warehouse.
The same Koval who left a note promising Dimitri’s death.
And here—on black-and-white payment slips—my mother’s neat, unmistakable signature authorizing transfers.
Before I can process anything further, the office door opens.
Sylvester stops in the doorway, freezing when he sees me holding the file. I brace myself for anger, but instead, he steps inside slowly, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“Did you find something?” he asks, voice too calm. “Why do you look so shocked?”
I nod and hand him the file with trembling fingers. He scans the pages, frowning when he spots my mother’s maiden name tied to the bank accounts linking the Laurents to the attacks.
“I don’t understand,” Sylvester says. “If anything, this puts your family under suspicion. How does this matter?”
“Because,” I say, voice thin and shaking, “my mother has never been involved in the financial side of anything. Ever. And she hasn’t used her maiden name in ages. Someone is using her identity. Someone is using her as a cover.”
And saying it out loud makes the room tilt.
Because if someone in her family is hiding behind her mother’s name…it means this is deeper, darker, and far more personal than anyone can fathom.
Sylvester studies me, his expression unreadable. “So you’re saying your mother is being framed?”
“Possibly my entire family,” I answer, my voice low, tight. “Because whoever is using her maiden name obviously doesn’t know my mother hasn’t used that name in decades. It’s a small error, but it’s substantial to me.”
Sylvester’s brows pull together. “That means someone wants the trail to lead back to the Laurents.”
“Exactly.”
The room suddenly feels colder. “Someone is using her name like bait. Like they want Dimitri to think the Laurents are funding all of this.”
A beat of silence.
And then, like a blade sliding into place, the truth settles heavily in my chest.
This war was never just between Dimitri and my family. It’s been orchestrated by someone else entirely—someone who knows both sides, someone who understands their history, their hatred, their blind spots. Someone using both of them as pawns.
My pulse spikes. “Sylvester…this isn’t just an attack. It’s a setup. Someone wants to break them. Someone wants blood between the Rusnaks and the Laurents.”
“Who wants blood between the Rusnaks and the Laurents?”
I freeze.
The voice comes from the doorway.
The door swings open, and Dimitri steps inside, broad shoulders filling the room, his presence swallowing all the air. His gaze drops to the file in my hand—then rises to my face. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t even look surprised. He just closes the door with a quiet click, his expression unreadable.
“What,” he asks calmly, dangerously, “did you find?”
Sylvester takes one step back, sensing the storm brewing, then slips out of the room without a word, shutting the door behind him.
It’s just the two of us now.
I swallow and walk toward him. I place the file in his hand—my fingers trembling even though I try to hide it. His eyes meet mine, cold and sharp, and I feel the weight of everything I’ve just uncovered pressing down on my chest.
“I found payment slips,” I say quietly. “Transfers connected to an account under my mother’s maiden name.”
His jaw ticks.
I push on. “She hasn’t used that name in decades. And she has nothing to do with any financial operations in my family. Whoever did this—they’re using her name to frame the Laurents. To make it look like my family is behind the attacks on you.”
His eyes darken as he flips through the documents, taking in every line, every signature. But it’s the way he lifts his head slowly that makes my breath hitch.
“Vivian….”
My name sounds like a warning. Like a storm rolling over the horizon.
“I think someone wants the Rusnaks and Laurents at war,” I whisper. “Someone wants you and me on opposite sides.”
He steps closer, the file lowering to his side.
I can feel the tension radiating off him, thick enough to choke on.
“And I think,” I add, “we’ve both been played.”
My voice trembles, just a little. I hope he believes me.
He has no reason to—none except blind trust.
Have I ever given him a reason to trust me?
Has my family ever?
For a long, suffocating moment, he just looks at me. Really looks at me. The file hangs at his side, his knuckles white around the edge. Then he steps closer, lowering his voice.
“Vivian…” he says gently, almost tender. “This changes everything.”
My breath catches. “You…believe me?”
His eyes flicker—something raw, something unguarded—but before he can respond, the door slams open. Sylvester bursts in, chest heaving, his expression carved from pure dread. “They’ve hit another target,” he says. “And this time, they left a message for you.”
He tosses something onto the desk. A bloodstained envelope.
Thick. Heavy. Addressed in jagged, bold letters:
TO DIMITRI RUSNAK AND HIS brIDE.
A chill tears straight through me.
Dimitri snatches the envelope, rips it open, and what falls out makes my entire body go rigid.
A single photograph.
The Koval insignia—painted across a Laurent family estate in dripping red. And under it, the words:
“The debt ends in blood.”