LOGINChapter 224Evelyn’s POV“Still nothing, Leo?” I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the dull, steady hum of the ventilation shafts in the underground transport block.“Nothing,” Leo hissed, his fingers flying across his modified keyboard with a manic, terrifying velocity. The cold blue glow of the monitor highlighted the deep, dark circles under his eyes. “Jasper’s ground teams completely swept the commercial sectors. Nikolai checked every single black-market safe house and underground transit route from here to the coastal docks. Not a trace of her has been sniffed. It’s like she vanished into thin air the second she stepped off your penthouse property.”“She knows how to hide, Leo,” I said softly, stepping closer to his terminal and placing a steadying hand on his rigid shoulder. “She survived on her own by acting like a ghost. We have to trust that she’s staying beneath Yamelyan’s radar just like we are.”“Trust?” Leo let out a sharp, bitter laugh, slamming his palm against t
Chapter 223Evelyn’s POVThe suffocating vacuum of the servant's quarters felt tighter than the medical binding tape around my ribs. Yamelyan stood in the doorway, his ruthless, deadened eyes pinning Leo and me to the damp concrete wall like biological specimens. The silence was absolute, save for the rhythmic, distant hum of the industrial kitchens and the sharp, rapid breathing of Maeve, who was still cradling her wrist where Leo had gripped it.“I asked you something, Leo,” Yamelyan demanded, his voice a low, terrifyingly calm rumble that cut through the basement chill. He took a single, slow step into the room, his black leather shoes avoiding the puddle near the fiberglass shower. “Are you dumb now?”Leo’s eyes widened a fraction. I caught the microscopic tremor in his jaw, the sudden, icy realization of his mistake. He winced, his mind frantically trying to recalculate the algorithm of our survival after letting that single, fatal pronoun slip past his teeth.If I didn't act wit
Chapter 222Evelyn’s POV“Sit down before you dizzy yourself, Leo,” I said, my voice dropping back into the dry, crisp lilt of the Adrian persona as I smoothed the stiff collar of my driver's uniform over my fresh medical binding tape. The wax along my jaw was newly set, the masculine shadow perfectly reapplied, but the air between us had completely shifted. “I don't take orders from municipal staff, remember?” Leo muttered, though he slid onto the rickety plastic chair anyway, dragging his fingers through his rough hair. He pulled a crumpled, high-gloss security printout from his inner jacket pocket and flattened it across the tiny laminate desk. “But since you claim to handle international compliance drama, you might actually understand these encrypted mainframe logs.” “Try me,” I said, leaning over his shoulder. “What are we looking at?” “The blueprint for Yamelyan’s annual corporate gala next Tuesday,” Leo said, his eyes scanning the data with a sudden, sharp clarity that ma
Chapter 221Evelyn’s POVThe air in the concrete room died the exact second Leo’s heavy iron keys hit the floor. The metallic crash echoed off the damp cinder blocks, a harsh, vibrating sound that seemed to shatter the final remnants of my disguise. He stood there, his chest heaving under his loose linen shirt, his eyes wide and wild as he stared at my face. The masculine contouring foundation was gone, washed down the drain in a murky beige stream. My jawline was soft and flushed from the scalding water, and my long, dark hair hung in heavy, soaking wet strands over my bare, pale shoulders. The rough white hotel towel wrapped tightly around my frame made the truth undeniable. “Wait... you’re a... I know you!” Leo’s voice tore from his chest in a guttural, shattered roar that shook the very foundation of the small room. He took a massive, violent step forward, his fingers twitching toward his inner pocket. “You’re that woman that owned the club! The woman that slapped me! You! What
Chapter 220Evelyn Prokofiev's POV The heavy leather contract deck remained frozen between the tips of my scuffed municipal boots for exactly three seconds after Yamelyan turned his back. The square of black leather was a physical insult, a standard piece of Radov psychological degradation dropped onto the marble floor like table scraps for a stray dog.I didn't bend from the waist. A low-tier chauffeur with corporate-discipline training bends from the knees, keeping the spine perfectly vertical, ensuring the line of sight never inadvertently challenges the retreating perimeter of the principal assets. I knelt, my knees pressing into the freezing, mirror-polished stone, and swept the authorization keys into my left hand with a single, practiced glide. The plastic edges dug into my palm through the thick cowhide gloves.“This way, Adrian,” Leo’s voice cut through the cavernous quiet of the foyer. It was the flat, deadened tone of a prisoner directing a guard to a new cell block, but
Chapter 219The metallic click of the gun leaving its holster sounded like a trap snapping shut.My heart dropped hard against the tight medical tape wrapped around my ribs. But the cold, clinical instinct that had kept me alive in the gray concrete hell of General Holding 3 took over before Yamelyan’s shout even finished echoing off the marble ceiling.Error. The tactical part of my brain screamed. Monumental, fatal error. Drivers don’t have the combat reflexes of a Spetsnaz operative. Drivers don’t break the wrists of oligarchs’ brides.I had to kill Evelyn Prokofiev again. Right now. In a single micro-second, before Yamelyan’s finger pulled the trigger of the weapon pointed at my chest.I smoothly let go of Maeve’s wrist, letting her arm fall like a dead cable. I instantly dropped my chin into a low, completely submissive bow. The stiff brim of the driver’s cap snapped back into place, hiding my face in shadow once more.The low, raspy, perfectly controlled masculine baritone retur
Chapter 19Evelyn’s POVNew York doesn’t forgive.It remembers.It remembers every empire that rose too fast.Every king who mistook momentum for permanence.Every man who believed the skyline belonged to him simply because his name was once etched into glass.The city greets me the same way it alw
Chapter 17Caleb’s POVGrief is supposed to hollow you out.That’s what the therapists say. That’s what the self-help books promise that eventually, the pain fades into an echo and you learn how to live around it.They were wrong.Grief didn’t empty me. It sharpened me.It turned every nerve in my
Chapter 21Caleb’s POVI am not supposed to be here.That thought repeats itself as the elevator ascends, each floor ticking past like a countdown to execution.Sterling Global.New York Headquarters.First official board session under Chairwoman Evelyn Sterling.Her name is everywhere now.On scre
Chapter 20Caleb’s POVDead people aren’t supposed to walk.They aren’t supposed to glide across marble floors in couture and diamonds, laughter trailing behind them like a weapon.They aren’t supposed to command a room without saying a word.They aren’t supposed to look at you like you’re the ghos







