Chapter 19 – Barbara
Sebastian’s face filled the screen, and the false warmth in his smile made my skin crawl.
I knew that smile. Had seen it a thousand times over the past five years, the one he wore when he was about to twist the knife deeper, when he wanted me to know he was enjoying my pain. It was the smile of someone who’d perfected cruelty into an art form.
“Barbara.” He said my name like we were old friends catching up. Like he hadn’t tried to kill me. Like I hadn’t bled out on a concrete floor while he confessed to murdering our mother. “I’m so glad to see you alive.”
The words were poisoned honey. Sweet on the surface, toxic underneath.
“I saw you on TV,” he continued, his eyes gleaming with something dark and gleeful. “My little sister and her Bratva fiancé. The society pages are going crazy. ‘Andrew Davis’s daughter marrying into organized crime.’ They’re eating it up. You two looked like a power couple from hell.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Kirill’s hand on my shoulder was the only thing keeping me upright, keeping me from collapsing under the weight of Sebastian’s voice, his presence, his existence.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Sebastian said, and for a split second, something that might’ve been genuine emotion flickered across his face.
Then it was gone, replaced by that venomous smile.
“When you didn’t die in that building, when I heard you’d been found and taken to a hospital, well, it seems God has other plans. ”
“Stay away from me.” The words came out weak, trembling. Not the strong defiance I wanted to project.
“Oh, Babs.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I can’t do that. You see, we’re family. And family looks out for each other.” His gaze shifted, landing on Kirill beside me. “Speaking of family, you know your fiancé, right? Really know him?”
My stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?”
“I know him from back in the day. In Russia.” Sebastian’s smile widened, becoming something cruel and victorious. “Kirill Petrov. Bratva tech genius. Smart guy. Cold. Dangerous.” He paused for effect. “But not as smart as your big brother.”
The words hit me like physical blows. Russia. Back in the day. They knew each other.
I looked at Kirill, desperate for him to deny it, to tell me Sebastian was lying. But his expression, the way his jaw had gone rigid, the way his eyes had gone flat and deadly, confirmed everything.
They knew each other. Had known each other. Before me. Before any of this.
My mind raced, trying to piece it together. How? When? Why hadn’t Kirill told me?
Sebastian watched my realization with obvious delight. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Didn’t mention that we’re old friends? Well, maybe ‘friends’ is too strong a word. More like”—he chuckled, the sound dark and venomous—“business associates. Though I suppose ‘con artist and mark’ is more accurate.”
“Sebastian,” I tried to cut him off, but he wasn’t done.
“I took him for millions, Babs. Millions of Bratva rubles. Made him look like a fool in front of his bosses. Nearly got him killed, actually.” He laughed again, and the sound made me want to throw the phone across the balcony. “Good times. Great memories.”
Kirill’s hand tightened on my shoulder, and I could feel the rage radiating off him in waves. Could feel how close he was to losing control.
“Now that you’re marrying into the Bratva,” Sebastian leaned closer to his camera, his expression shifting to something more calculating, “…tell me, Babs, why don’t you steal from them too? Continue the family tradition.”
“What?” The word came out strangled.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you an easy way to do it. I have experience robbing the Bratva, after all.” His laugh burst out, evil and gleeful. “Hell, I could write a book. ‘How to Con Russian Organized Crime and Live to Tell About It.’ It’d be a bestseller.”
“I’m not stealing anything.” I forced the words out past the panic rising in my throat. “I’m not. I would never, “
“No?” Sebastian’s expression hardened. “Then maybe I should send that video to your Bratva fiancé. Let him see exactly what kind of woman he’s marrying. Let Vladimir Orlov see what his protégé is tying himself to. Let all of Bratva know that their tech guy’s future wife is a—”
“Stop.” The word came out as a plea.
But Sebastian wasn’t stopping. Had never stopped when I begged. “A girl who kissed her stepbrother. A little slut who threw herself at me when she was sixteen. Who moaned when I—”
“Stop!” I screamed it this time, and my hands fumbled for the end call button.
My fingers were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. Almost couldn’t hit the right spot on the screen. But finally, finally, I managed it, and Sebastian’s face disappeared, leaving just my own reflection staring back at me in the darkened screen.
My mouth was open in a perfect O of shock. My face was pale even in the dim balcony light. I looked like I was watching my life end in real-time.
Maybe I was.
“Barbara.” Kirill’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears. “The video. What video?”
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t form words. My blood had run cold, ice spreading through my veins until I felt frozen from the inside out.
It was too late. Sebastian had said too much. Had revealed enough that Kirill would figure it out even if I didn’t explain. Would put the pieces together and see me for what I really was, damaged, broken, a girl who’d made a mistake so terrible it had defined the rest of her life.
“Barbara, look at me.” Kirill’s hands were on my shoulders now, both of them, turning me to face him. “What video is he talking about?”
I blinked, trying to focus on his face instead of the panic spiraling through my chest. Ashamed. I felt so ashamed. Terrified of what he’d think, what he’d do, whether he’d look at me differently once he knew.
But I was also tired. So very tired of carrying this burden alone. Of letting this unintended sin weigh me down year after year. Of pretending it wasn’t slowly destroying me from the inside out.
“When I was sixteen….” The words stuck in my throat. I tried again. “There was a party. A big one. My father was hosting clients, and there were so many people, and I….” I stopped, unable to continue.
“Take your time.” Kirill’s voice was gentle, patient, even though I could see the tension in every line of his body.
“There was a guy there.” I forced myself to keep going. “Charming. Older. He paid attention to me in a way no one else did. Made me feel….” I laughed bitterly. “Made me feel wanted. Special. Like I mattered.”
Kirill’s jaw clenched, but he stayed quiet.
“We talked all night. Drank champagne that I shouldn’t have been drinking. And then he kissed me.” The memory made me want to vomit. “I kissed him back. I wanted it. Wanted to feel grown-up and desired and—”
“Barbara—”
“It was Sebastian.” I forced the words out in a rush, needing to say them before I lost my nerve.
“The guy I kissed. It was Sebastian. My stepbrother. I didn’t know.
I swear I didn’t know who he was. My father had cut ties with him years before, and I’d never met him, never even seen a photo.
He introduced himself as some fake name, and I believed him, and I… .”
My voice cracked, and suddenly I was crying. Hot, shameful tears that I’d been holding back for five years.
“He recorded it,” I continued through the sobs. “The kiss. And after—after, he told me who he really was. Showed me the video. Told me that if I ever told anyone, he’d release it. Everyone would think I was a creep who kissed her stepbrother. That I’d initiated it. That I was….”
I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say the words he’d used. Slut. Whore. All the names he’d called me over the years.
Kirill didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away or look at me with disgust. Instead, he wrapped me in his strong arms, pulling me against his chest so tightly I could barely breathe. One hand cradled the back of my head, holding me like I was something precious instead of broken.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped against his suit jacket. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you. Should’ve explained before you proposed, before we….”
“Stop apologizing.” His voice was rough with barely controlled emotion. “You were sixteen. A child. He manipulated you. Recorded you without consent. Used it to terrorize you for years. None of that is your fault.”
“But I kissed him back, “
“You didn’t know who he was.” Kirill pulled back just enough to look at my face, his hands framing my cheeks, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“You were a teenager at a party, and an adult man took advantage of your inexperience. Then he used that moment, that one moment, to control you for five years. Do you understand me, Barbara? This is not your sin. It’s his. ”
“The Bratva won’t see it that way.” My voice came out small, defeated. “If that video gets out, if people see it, they’ll think I’m disgusting. They’ll think you’re marrying someone who—”
“I don’t give a fuck what the Bratva thinks.” The words were fierce, absolute. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. You’re mine, Barbara. You and that baby. And no video, no blackmail, no ghost from my past is going to change that.”
“He conned you.” The realization was still sinking in. “He stole from you. From the Bratva. And now he’s been terrorizing me. It’s all connected.”
“I know.” Kirill’s expression went dark, dangerous. “And that’s why he’s going to die.”
“Kirill….”
“I swear to you.” His voice was low, deadly serious.
“I will destroy him. Not just kill him, though that’s definitely happening.
I’m going to dismantle everything he’s built.
Every connection, every safe house, every piece of leverage he thinks he has.
I’m going to erase him so completely that even his memory won’t survive. ”
“But Vladimir’s promise….”
“Fuck Vladimir’s promise.” The curse came out vicious.
“Sebastian Davis tried to kill you. Blackmailed you for years. Murdered your mother. And now I find out he’s the same bastard who’s been haunting me for four years?
” He shook his head. “No. There are some things more important than promises. Some people who deserve death more than they deserve mercy.”
I should’ve argued. Should’ve reminded him that breaking Vladimir’s conditions would destroy everything he’d worked for. But I couldn’t. Because part of me, a dark, vengeful part that I usually tried to ignore, wanted Sebastian dead too.
Wanted him to pay for every moment of fear, every tear, every piece of myself I’d lost trying to survive his blackmail.
“The video—” I started, but Kirill cut me off.
“I’ll handle it. I’ll find every copy, every backup, every trace of it.
And I’ll destroy them all.” His hands were still cradling my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t realize were still falling.
“No one is going to see that video, Barbara. No one is going to use it against you ever again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m very good at what I do.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “And because Sebastian made a fatal mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“He came after what’s mine.” Kirill pressed a kiss to my forehead, soft and reverent. “He hurt you. Threatened you. Tried to take you from me. And there’s no algorithm, no backdoor, no hiding place that will save him from that.”
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that this nightmare could actually end. That Sebastian could be stopped, that the video could be destroyed, that I could finally be free.
But five years of terror had taught me not to hope too much. Not to believe in happy endings or rescue or salvation.
“What if you can’t find him?” The question came out, barely a whisper. “What if he releases the video anyway?”
“Then we deal with it.” Kirill’s voice was certain, unshakeable. “Together. You and me. We face whatever comes, and we survive it. Because that’s what we do, Barbara. We survive.”
Survive. The word had defined my existence for so long. But looking at Kirill now, seeing the determination in his eyes, the protective fury radiating off him, I realized something.
Maybe surviving wasn’t enough anymore.
Maybe it was time to actually live.
“I love you.” The words came out before I could stop them. Before I could second-guess or overthink or talk myself out of being vulnerable.
Kirill went very still. “What?”
“I love you,” I repeated, more certain this time.
“I know it’s fast. I know we barely know each other.
I know this whole situation is insane. But I…
.” I took a shaky breath. “When I was dying in that building, you’re who I called.
When I think about my future, you’re in it.
When I imagine being happy, actually happy, not just pretending, I see you. ”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. Just stared at me like I’d spoken in a language he didn’t understand.
Then he kissed me.
Hard. Desperate. Fierce. Like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that kiss. Like he was claiming me in the most fundamental way possible.
When he pulled back, his voice was rough. “I love you too. Have since that first night, probably. Even when I was trying to hate you, trying to walk away, trying to convince myself you were just another complication, I loved you.”
The admission hung between us, raw and honest and terrifying in its vulnerability.
“We’re going to end this,” he continued, his forehead resting against mine. “You, me, and whatever resources the Bratva can bring to bear. We’re going to find Sebastian Davis. We’re going to destroy that video. And we’re going to make sure he can never hurt you again.”
“And then?”
“And then we get married. Have our baby. Build the life you deserve.” His smile was soft now, genuine. “The life we both deserve.”
I kissed him again, softer this time, trying to convey everything I felt: gratitude and love and hope and fear all tangled together.
When we finally pulled apart, the party was still going on inside. Still the same mix of two worlds colliding, still the champagne and speeches and pretending everything was normal.
But nothing was normal. Nothing would ever be normal again.
Because Sebastian knew I was alive. Knew about Kirill. Knew about the engagement.
And somewhere out there, he was planning his next move.
The thought should’ve terrified me. And it did. But standing there with Kirill’s arms around me, feeling his certainty and strength and absolute determination, I also felt something else.
Hope.
Real, genuine hope that maybe, just maybe, this nightmare could actually end.
That I could be free.
That we could survive this together.
For the first time in five years, I let myself believe it was possible.