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NIKOLAI
Old family photographsare scattered across the low table where I sit in my office as the rain pelts the glass. As a kid, I enjoyed the sound of rain, but as a man, it puts me on edge. The sharp, tiny bursts remind me too much of the sound of gunshots.
“Brooding again, Kolya?” Larissa’s voice startles me as she enters my office. She’s wearing bright red and deep yellow, as if filling in for the absent sun.
I try to smile, but I can’t. “It’s my default mode, Lara.”
“You were always the moody one.” She tosses her wet umbrella onto the floor with a careless grace only she could pull off.
“Careful, or I’ll revoke your sibling privileges,” I warn her, attempting to lighten my mood.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she replies evenly.
She hasn’t visited the penthouse in weeks. And I notice both her absence and coldness.
She strides over and sits down beside me, a smile breaking out slightly when she notices the Kaori painting I’ve been staring at for the last hour.
“Chrysanthemum,” she says. “Mom’s favorite flower.”
But the single bloom suspended in the air now reminds me of someone else. I nod.
“I commissioned it,” I reply passively.
She glances at the family photographs on the table and a small sketch of Eden I had framed. She stares at it, uncertain of how to react. “Your true talent is wasted, Kolya.”
I reach for my glass, and the ice has melted into the scotch, creating layers of translucent amber in the glass. I don’t want to hear her comments and say so tersely. “Lara, don’t.”
“You always want what you can’t have.” Larissa ignores my request as she picks up the framed sketch. “Kolya, don’t let Father’s toxic legacy consume you.”
With a low sigh, she places the picture down. “You’ve been so wrapped up in it that you’re not living your own life. You’re living his.”
“I’m not doing it for Father.” I place the sketch facedown. “I’m doing it for Matvei.”
Her expression softens. “Stop blaming yourself for his death, Kolya.”
I snap. “If it wasn’t for me, he’d still be alive.”
“Stop it, Nikolai,” Larissa says sternly. “You were a boy. You couldn’t have known what would happen. Matvei chose his own path. He wasn’t going to die of old age.” Larissa takes my handand grips it to emphasize her meaning. “You worshipped a brother who never existed, and he was my brother long before he was yours. He could be loving, yes, but also ruthless and cruel beyond your wildest imagination.”
Larissa’s words sting because I know she’s right, but the guilt refuses to loosen its grip. “No matter what you want to believe, Lara, I’m responsible now. If I don’t act, who will?”
“Listen to me, Kolya. You’re not responsible for every bad thing that happens.” She scoffs and shakes her head. “Even if you want to believe that.”
I pull my hand out of her grip and avoid her intense gaze.
“Please, Kolya,” her voice trembles. “For the sake of our family, for your own sanity, let go of this vendetta. And focus on the ones who are still here and need you.”
The momentary silence is complete because we both know who she’s referring to. Larissa has Rurik, but Eden only has me … or her father.
Larissa walks to the bar cart and pours a scotch on the rocks. “Enough with the self-flagellation,” she continues. “You’re not doinganyoneany good by dwelling on the past.” She swirls the ice in the glass and takes a sip.
Her words sting like a slap in the face, and I decide to share the truth she doesn’t know. “Matvei was tricked. The hit he accepted in my stead? It was a setup by Zakhar.”
Larissa’s face pales. “Are you sure?”
My jaw tightens as I stare at the painting. “That’s what Gunsyn told me.”
“Gunsyn,” Larissa murmurs as her eyes narrow in anger. “Why are you so quick to believe him?” She sits beside me. “Kolya, listen to me.” She leans in, desperate for me to hear her words. “Don’t let Father’s brigadiers make you continuehiswar. Their war.”
