Chapter 32: The Breakdown

The heavy oak door of my room clicked shut behind me, not locking, but sealing. The black sedan had delivered me back to the Residence, and the attendant’s smooth, silent departure was the final note of my forced isolation. Dmitri and Ivan were not here. Their schedules were complex, running Volkov Industries; sometimes, they left me alone for hours, confident that their physical security and my psychological surrender were enough to keep me in place.

Tonight, the silence felt different. It was deafening.

I walked to the vast, floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the dizzying expanse of the city lights. They looked like diamonds scattered across a black velvet cloth, beautiful, indifferent, and utterly unreachable.

My mind was still replaying Mom's voice, her face glowing with genuine, unburdened happiness.

“You look safe... I feel like I finally have my whole family back, and we are finally safe, thanks to Arthur and his sons.”

The words tore through me like shrapnel. Safe. She was pinning her entire future, her fragile, hard-won peace, on a lie—a lie I reinforced every time I let the twins touch me, every time I accepted their money, every time I played the role of the quiet, grateful stepson.

I stumbled back, my hands flying up to cover my mouth to stifle a sound that was half-gasp, half-sob. The guilt, the paralyzing, suffocating guilt, was finally more powerful than the fear.

I dropped to my knees on the thick, sound-dampening rug. This was not the cold, controlled anxiety I was used to; this was a visceral, body-shaking breakdown. Tears started flowing, hot and immediate, blurring the city lights outside. I couldn't stop them. They came from a place so deep, a realization so painful, that it felt like my soul was tearing open.

"I can't do this to her," I choked out loud, the words swallowed by the plush silence of the room. "I can't be the one to ruin her. Not again."

My mind was a chaotic mess of self-hatred. I ran from my failure in Boston, and that led me to this. I accepted their shield because I was afraid of being exposed as a fraud. Now, the cost of that shield is destroying the one person I promised myself I would protect.

I slammed my fist weakly against the carpet, the frustration utterly debilitating. I was trapped. I was a caged animal, fed and groomed, but utterly controlled.

I scrambled up, stumbling to the large, custom-built desk in the corner. I started pulling open the heavy drawers, frantic, illogical.

Money. I need money.

The drawers contained supplies—expensive stationery, custom-engraved pens, tablets, and high-security communication devices provided by the Volkovs. I found a small leather box and ripped it open. Inside, there was a handful of cash, maybe three hundred dollars, left there as pocket money—an allowance. It was nothing. It was meaningless.

My mind was racing now, cold logic slicing through the panic. Where is my own money?

The gallery accounts—gone. Dmitri had folded them into the Volkov asset management system when he "paid off the debt." My personal bank account—still technically open, but empty since the twins had taken over all my expenses, and any attempt to move funds would instantly flag a security alert.

My passport? I found it easily enough in the top drawer. It was there, but my mind instantly heard Ivan’s calm, manipulative voice: A flagged passport is useless, Leo. You won't get ten feet past a border control point without our approval. We control all necessary infrastructure.

I sank back into the chair, the raw, crushing despair settling over me. They hadn't just secured me physically and financially; they had engineered my total dependence. They were too smart. There were no loopholes.

I remembered the Vow I had made just yesterday, the one where I promised to stay, to accept their structure.

He chose us over the anxiety. The running is finished.

My mind screamed in protest. "No! I refuse it!"

The voice wasn't directed at them. It was directed at the person in the mirror—the weak, self-denying man who had walked right into the cage out of fear.

I have to run. I have to try. The risk of their wrath is smaller than the certainty of Mom’s heartbreak when this explodes.

The decision hardened inside me, a core of cold, desperate resolve replacing the liquid despair. It was illogical, suicidal, and entirely necessary. I knew I couldn't succeed. They had eyes everywhere. They had people everywhere. But I couldn't stay here and wait for the wedding day to destroy my mother.

I wiped the tears from my face, the salt leaving streaks on my cheeks. I had to move now. While they were gone. While the silence held.

My mind started working, sharp and focused, despite the residual ache of the breakdown. I don't need money. I need to disappear. I need to get out of the city and find a place where I can write the full truth, mail it, and then vanish before they can find me.

I stood up, moving toward the closet. The beautiful, designer clothes they had bought me felt like heavy chains. I needed the old me—the anonymous, worn-out jeans and plain t-shirts. I needed to pack the small, insignificant bag that wouldn't alert security, and I needed to use the one window of time I had.

I looked at the window one last time. The city lights were calling, no longer with the promise of beautiful, unreachable things, but with the immediate, terrifying promise of chaos and finality. I was going back out into the open, unprotected world. I was running to fail. But this time, I was running to fail for her.

My mind was clear. I will attempt the impossible. I will not stop until I am free, or until they stop me.

The e

scape preparations had begun.