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 theVolkov 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."
