Chapter 41

Kasimir

The bright flashes from the photographers’ cameras lit up the cool Munich air, reflecting off the wet marble steps of the Bayerischer Hof hotel.

Photographers stood five rows deep along the red carpet. They shouted my name and Vespera’s name, pushing against the security barriers like hungry wolves waiting for their chance to attack.

For three days, Greta’s media team had been spreading horrible stories about us across European newspapers. They described Vespera as a helpless woman who had been traded like property and painted me as a heartless man who was keeping her against her will.

They wanted a scandal. They wanted to see us fall apart in public.

But instead, we showed them what real power looked like.

I stepped out of the black Maybach first. My arm was no longer in a dark sling. I had replaced the bandages with a perfectly fitted dark tuxedo. The expensive Italian fabric stretched across my broad chest, but my recovering shoulder still hurt. I ignored the pain and kept my expression calm.

Then I turned toward the open car door and offered Vespera my hand.

She placed her bare fingers in my palm.

A loud gasp came from the crowd. A moment later, hundreds of cameras began flashing at once.

Vespera stepped out of the car and into the bright lights like a queen walking toward her throne.

She wore a long, beautiful midnight-blue silk gown that flowed over her figure. The dress was tightly fitted around her upper body, keeping her back straight and her shoulders lifted. Her dark hair was styled up, leaving her long neck exposed. Around it was a beautiful old diamond necklace taken from the Falkenrath family vault. It was the same necklace Greta had tried to claim twenty years ago.

Vespera didn’t look like a victim.

She didn’t look like a woman whose sister was being held hostage at a secret facility in the Alpine mountains.

She looked powerful, dangerous, and impossible to defeat.

As her high heels touched the wet marble, she moved her hand up my arm and rested it on my forearm. Her touch was warm, sending a sudden electric feeling through my body.

“Smile, Kasimir,” she whispered, her voice soft and smooth beneath the noise of the crowd.

Her dark eyes moved calmly across the cameras. She looked completely confident, almost as if none of the lies being spread about us mattered.

“Let them see how little their lies affect us.”

“My eyes are only on you, Vespera,” I replied in a rough voice.

I placed my hand on her lower back and gently pulled her closer until her silk dress brushed against my leg.

I wasn’t holding her close just to impress the photographers. I could feel her body trembling slightly beneath her beautiful dress. She was terrified, but she was trying hard not to show it. She was fighting to save her sister’s life while walking straight into a dangerous situation.

I gently tightened my hold around her waist, silently reminding her that I was there for her. I was ready to destroy anyone who tried to hurt her.

Together, we walked up the grand staircase without rushing.

Inside the ballroom, the annual Bavarian Maritime Relief Gala was already taking place. Beautiful crystal lights hung from the ceiling, spreading a golden glow across the room. About three hundred powerful people from across Europe were gathered there, including wealthy bankers, shipping company owners, board members, and federal prosecutors.

The moment we entered, the entire room went quiet.

People stopped talking. Some even froze with their champagne glasses halfway to their mouths.

Greta Adler was sitting at the main table near the raised stage, surrounded by her supporters and lawyers. She wore a silver dress, and her gold-headed cane rested against her knee.

When her cold grey eyes landed on us, her lips tightened into a thin line.

She clearly hadn’t expected us to show up.

She had expected Vespera to be somewhere crying and desperately signing away her rights on a surrender document.

But instead, Vespera walked straight toward the middle of the ballroom with her head held high. The large diamond necklace around her neck sparkled under the lights.

“She’s watching us,” Vespera whispered. Her fingers tightened slightly around my sleeve as she leaned closer to me. To everyone watching, we looked like a couple deeply in love.

“She thinks she controls what everyone believes about us.”

“Let her watch her empire fall apart,” I whispered back, lowering my head until my lips were almost touching her ear. I wanted everyone in the room to see how close we were.

“Soren’s legal team has just gained access to the Hamburg records. The federal court order is being filed right now.”

A quiet but powerful look appeared in Vespera’s dark eyes.

She turned toward me and slowly smiled. Her smile was so beautiful that my heart began pounding harder.

For a moment, I forgot about the cameras, the powerful people in the room, and even Greta’s presence.

All I could think about was Vespera. I could feel her warm breath against my face and smell the soft scent of jasmine on her skin.

We had been brought together by the painful deaths of our fathers, but what had grown between us was now something neither of us could easily deny.

She rose onto her toes and gently placed her hand against my jaw, her soft fingers brushing over my beard.

“Dance with me, Kasimir,” she whispered softly, looking straight into my eyes. “Let’s give them something real to talk about.”

I took her hand and led her to the middle of the dance floor just as the string quartet began playing a slow, beautiful waltz.

I placed my right hand around her waist and pulled her close against my chest. She rested her hand on my shoulder, directly over the painful wound. But I didn’t feel the pain. All I could think about was having her so close to me.

We moved smoothly across the shiny wooden floor, dancing together as if we had practised it a thousand times. Everyone in the room watched us.

We weren’t pretending to be in love anymore. What existed between us was real. The feelings were growing stronger, and no matter how much Greta tried to destroy us with her lies, she couldn’t change that.

Just as the music reached its highest point, the large double doors at the back of the ballroom suddenly opened with a loud bang.

Two uniformed officers from the Munich Federal Police entered the room. A tall, silver-haired man wearing a well-fitted dark grey suit walked in with them.

It was Soren Lindner.

The music slowly stopped, and the entire ballroom fell silent.

Soren ignored everyone else and walked straight toward Greta’s table. He stopped a short distance away, pulled a red-sealed arrest warrant from inside his jacket, and held it up.

“Greta Adler,” he announced in a strong, clear voice. “By order of the Bavarian High Court, all the assets belonging to Adler-Baltic have been frozen. You are also under arrest for the murder of Erich Lindner in November 1998.”

Shock spread across the room.

Greta gripped her gold-headed cane so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Yet her face remained cold and expressionless.

She didn’t look at the police officers. She didn’t even look at Soren.

Instead, she slowly turned her head toward the upper balcony overlooking the ballroom.

A young man dressed as a waiter was standing there with a tray in his hands.

But he wasn’t looking at the drinks on the tray. He was staring directly at Vespera.

He reached into his pocket, brought out a small silver device, and pressed the only black button on it.

At that same moment, my encrypted phone vibrated once inside my pocket.

I quickly pulled it out and read the message that had somehow passed through all the security systems protecting our safe house.

The message contained one terrifying warning:

The transport unit’s power has been cut. Liesea Falkenrath has only four minutes of oxygen left.