AN OLD FRIEND IN PRISON

Maya’s pov

"I'm sorry." My voice was weak after another whiff of his unearthly scent, a scent that felt so familiar to me that I could almost throw up.

Could it be him, the man from the art gallery? There's one way to know

My fingers curled against the floor as the memory forced its way back, over and over.

Petra pushed me away from him immediately.

“You weren’t alone that night,” I finally said, pushing the words out before fear could swallow them. 

He flinched almost immediately as I had clocked him, his exposed eyes widening with grief before relaxing.

My voice came out stronger than I felt. 

“There was someone else with you. I was there."

He went still in a different way this time, not calm, not detached. "You have me confused, miss," he replied coldly.

Just tense.

Petra looked between us, her tolerance eventually running low. 

“Okay, I’m done being ignored. I'm right here, and someone better explain what’s going on, because this is getting ridiculous.”

I forced myself up, my legs shaky but holding on. 

My cheek throbbed in shame again, my top hanging loose and clinging, but none of that mattered anymore. I kept my eyes locked on him, fixing myself.

“Ask him,” I said. “Ask him where he was the night the gallery was robbed in New York.”

Petra let out a sharp laugh. “Are you insane?" Folding her arms, I saw his jaw clench in anger.

“How dare you? Do you know who this is?”

She was furious and fuming.

“Yes, a thief."

She gasped in horror, “What! Are you accusing him? Based on what—your imagination? That was an international heist, and Alek can never do anything like that!”

“Based on what I saw, I saw him," I shot back. 

She laughed. I picked up my bag from the floor and held it around my chest.

“Don’t turn this around,” she snapped.

"You always do that—play the victim, twist things so people feel sorry for you. Alek will never see you as anything but the disgusting trash that you are, Maya."

“I’m not twisting anything,” I said, my voice tightening. You just don’t like being out of control, Petra; you lie all the time.

She stepped toward me again—but her arm came up, stopping her.

“I said step back,” he said quietly.

Petra stared at him like she didn’t recognise him. 

“You don’t get to command me. Not here, not ever!”

“You’re worsening this, Petra; she’s not worth it," he replied.

“For myself?” she scoffed. “I'm defending you, baby. You’re the one being accused of something here, and you’re worried about me?”

I stepped forward without hesitation. 

“But it wasn’t just theft, was it?” I said, my voice rising. “Something else happened that night. Something you don’t want anyone to know. 10 people died that night, but somehow that didn't make the news, did it?”

His eyes snapped back to mine. “Be careful; I bite, and I bite hard."

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You don’t get to threaten me; you and whoever you are working with framed my dad. I know it's you.

I stayed quiet once, but now I know your name, Alek."

Petra’s expression shifted, curiosity creeping in. “Wait… what?" she asked. “Maya, what are you talking about?”

I hesitated—but only for a second.

"I heard voices,” I said. “Not just his. There was an argument. Someone didn’t want to go through with it.”

“Go through with what?” Petra asked.

“The theft,” I said. “Or whatever it really was.”

He let out a slow breath, almost like a laugh—but there was tension in it now. “You’re building a story out of fragments. I suggest you shut up and walk away."

“Then correct me,” I challenged. “Tell everyone I’m wrong; you disappeared, and my dad went to prison.”

Silence.

Petra turned to him, frowning. “Yeah, babe, do that? What the hell is she talking about?”

He didn’t answer her. He just looked at me, like he was measuring something.

If he should smash my fucking head to the ground.

“You don’t need to be involved in this,” he said to Petra.

He stepped forward; a mysterious air of tense energy circulated between us almost immediately.

He kept walking forward. I was terrified. What is he doing?

My feet were already willing to betray me, so I started walking backward.

Our eyes pinned together, almost in sync.

My back pinned against the huge lobby door, “Do you know where you are, minullil?" he whispered slowly, almost like a tense hiss.

His Estonian accent was thick with anger, I could tell, but I couldn't understand him.

“Are you afraid everyone’s going to know who you are?” I croaked in defense.

"What the hell does that mean? He hissed again, slowly tucking a strand of my hair in place.

“Perhaps a trip down memory lane." I slapped him hard across the face.

Everyone gasped in horror. His patch had shifted, and his almost golden-colored eyes were staring back at me.

“There you are… those eyes. I know I've seen them somewhere."

Aleksandr’s pov~

3 years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life; I took my brother’s advice and took the New York deal, but it turned out badly.

It wasn't an auction; it was a heist.

“I can't save you any longer, Alek; first, you conduct a heist, and now you are a war criminal! "How long will you continue to tarnish my reputation?" My grandfather croaked.

“Grandfather, there’s been a misunderstanding. I'm being set up!”

“Set up!” He hit me with his cane. "I had to kill the witness and frame the janitor for your bullshit! Why can't you be like your brother?" he coughed before leaning on the edge of the bed.

“Half brother,”, I retorted, looking away. "He did this."

"Of course he did, Aleksandr; it's a tale as old as time. He keeps outshining you. Since he took over the company, it has been doing exponentially well. You?" he said before pausing to sit down.

“You are a disgrace; if you didn't have the golden eye, I'd question your link to me, but you are my blood. You are useless, but you are mine, Alek; I cannot keep saving you, and you cannot hide forever.

“I don't want to hide anymore, Grandfather; I want what’s rightfully mine, my place as the CEO of this company. I want him out."

“That won't be easy," my grandfather replied. "It's your company, grandfather; it is that easy. I want it."

He glared at me. “You are a war criminal who can't leave his own country, and you want to run a multinational corporation? No."

“I want it," I stated again.

My grandfather looked at me, his eyes piercing mine.

“Then you know what I want."

I turned away. “No, I don't want kids; I already told you this."

My grandfather grabbed his remote control. “That’s the deal, Alek; you give me an heir, and I'll let you run my company."

I clenched my jaw, children; I don't want one, never have, and never will, but this old man is determined to make it happen.

“Fine, I'll get the doctor to find a surrogate and…”

“A surrogate?” my grandfather scoffed. “Oh no, my boy, this has to be old-fashioned." He tapped my shoulder before slowly sitting in his wheelchair.

He spat at my feet, “You are a vermin, Alek, but your offspring will redeem our bloodline."

I swallowed in frustration. "I want you to continue like nothing has happened; this conversation never took place. I'll handle everything upwards."

I shook back to reality, and it hit me hard. I'd been staring at Maya’s face for a long time. "Remember now?”

I took a step forward, my hand clenched in a fist. “You bitch!”

My fiancee, Petra, lunged at Maya, throwing her into the rain. "How dare you lay your filthy hands on my Alek!”

Maya landed in the rain, her bag rolled into the street, cars honked, and she scampered back to safety.

Petra wasn't done; I stepped back, arms crossed, and watched the drama unfold.

She grabbed a trash can by the reception and emptied it on Maya's head.

I smiled, satisfied.

My mind skipped back to the conversation with my grandfather.

“What about Petra? She was your idea."

“Keep her on, whatever you are doing; it's working. We need the Sinclairs' alliance for what I'm planning. I know you have your ways with the women,” he said. I smirked, picking up my glass of wine.

"I learned from the absolute best," my grandfather said, shaking his head. “The one thing I'm most ashamed of is your greatest achievement."

My mind came back; I picked Petra up and spun her in the air.

“That’s enough, baby. I'm sure the trash gets it by now."

I watched her shoot me a death stare; I felt a chilly air rush down my spine.

Maybe one day, she might actually kill me.