CHAPTER 3

Adrian Pov

The sun is sharp, slipping through the blinds, and the light on my face is a physical ache. I groan, burying my face deeper into the couch cushion. The scent of my living room, the familiar smell of old books and leather, is a small comfort, but it's not enough to push back my thoughts.

My phone buzzes, I flinch, my entire body tensing. It’s been twelve hours since I fled Vasily’s suite, and I haven't looked at a single message. The thought of it makes my stomach clench.

Just as I work up the nerve to reach for it, the front door buzzes. Once. Then twice. It’s a familiar rhythm. I don’t even have to look at the security feed to know it’s Leo. He's the only person who can walk into my life without a formal invitation. He's my safe harbor, the one person in my world who knows the real me.

I stumble to the door, my body still protesting every movement. I open it, and Leo takes one look at me and his calm demeanor drops away. His eyes, usually full of easy warmth, are wide with concern. “You look like hell,” he says, not as a judgment, but as a worried fact. He pushes past me, letting himself in. “I called, I texted. Nothing.”

I rub the sleep from my eyes. “Don’t,” I mutter, my voice a rough rasp. “Please, just don’t.”

He turns and looks at me, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

“Adrian, what the hell is going on?” he asks, his voice soft but firm. “You missed dinner with your sister and her fiancé. You haven’t been seen since the party. People are starting to talk bad about your behavior”

The words are a blow. I turn away from him, walking back to the couch and collapsing onto it. “Let them talk,” I say, the words a bitter echo of the truth. “What they’re saying is probably a lie, and what really happened is so much worse.”

I can feel him standing over me. I know he won’t push, not yet, but he will wait. He’ll sit here all day if he has to. He is the only person who has ever given me that kind of space. My family, they see me as an asset, a tool to be used. They see the playboy, the charming son who brings in the public-facing deals and protects the family name. The Adrian they know is a lie, a role I have played so well I sometimes forget who I am.

“It’s Vasily, isn’t it?” he says, and the question hangs in the air between us.

My body goes rigid. He knows. He's been with me through my brief, secret relationships with men. He's seen the heartbreak when a lover couldn’t handle the pressure of being with me, of the fear of being exposed. He’s the only person I’ve ever been truly myself with. And I knew the minute I walked out of that club I was going to tell him. He wouldn't understand, not fully, but he would listen.

“I was with him last night,” I confess, the words a whisper of shame and disbelief. “He… we… we were together.”

Leo doesn’t say a word. He just sits down on the coffee table across from me, his eyes locked on mine. He waits.

“We got drunk. I… I said things. He looked at me in a way I’ve never been looked at before. And… I don’t know. I just… I don’t know.” I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, hot and ashamed. “I hate him, Leo. I hate him and everything he stands for. A cold, arrogant, dangerous monster. But last night… Last night he was a man. He was… he was something else. And I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re Adrian,” he says, his voice as steady as a rock. “You’re the same person you were before. One night doesn't change that.”

“Yes, it does,” I snap, my voice thick with emotion. “He’s engaged to my sister. He’s a Volkov now. He’s a part of our family. I betrayed my family. I betrayed Isabella. My family would disown me if they knew the truth about me. About what I am. I’d be worthless to them. I’ve worked my whole life to be perfect. I’ve played this role, this lie, for them, for years. And for what? For a moment of weakness with the one person on this earth I should avoid more than anyone?”

The words pour out of me, making the self-loathing and fear that has been building since I left that hotel present.

Just as I am about to continue, my phone buzzes again. This time it's not a single vibration, but a series of them. I look at it, and a knot of dread tightens in my chest. Isabella. Her face, bright and smiling, is the wallpaper. The messages pop up one by one.

Hey! Where are you? Leo said you were sick. I was so worried.

I have an idea! Since you missed dinner, let’s go shopping! We can buy some new suits for the wedding. You can’t show up looking like a slob!

I miss my favorite twin.

The words are so innocent, so full of love, that they feel like a physical assault. My hands tremble as I read them, the guilt so heavy it's suffocating. I am a monster, a traitor. I have no right to be her favorite twin.

Just as I'm about to reply, another vibration. This one is different. It’s not a text from Isabella. The name on the screen sends a jolt of pure terror through me.

Unknown Number.

I stare at the phone for a beat, my heart pounding, then swallow hard and type, Who is this?

The response comes instantly.

Vasily.

My body goes rigid. I can’t breathe. I can't think. I stare at the name, a single word that holds all the power in the world.

Then, a new message. Brief. To the point. No pleasantries. No anger. Just a cold, hard command.

We need to talk. Now. I’ll send a car.

I stare at the phone, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I can’t tell him no. Not to him. Not to the Don. A sense of helplessness washes over me.

“Adrian?” Leo says, his voice a soft question, pulling me from my stupor.

I look up at him, my eyes wide. I show him the texts, not saying a word. Leo reads them, his face impassive. He knows what they mean. He knows what I am about to do. He sees the fear and the fascination in my eyes.

“He’s not asking you,” Leo says. “He’s telling you.”

“I know,” I say, my voice almost a whisper.

I stand up, my body still aching, my head still swimming with the memories of the night before. But the fear is gone, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I can’t run anymore. This is my life. I have to face the consequences. I have to see him. I have to know what he wants.

I walk to my bedroom, Leo trailing behind me, a silent, worried shadow. I feel a grim need to regain some control.

I shower, scrubbing away the grime of the last twelve hours, the shame, and the memory of Vasily’s touch. The hot water is a comforting touch on my skin, but it doesn’t erase the memories. I emerge, a new man, a new lie.

I go to my closet, a room the size of most people’s apartments, and I pick out a dark, bespoke suit. The fabric is smooth and heavy, a second skin. I tie my tie with practiced ease. I look at myself in the mirror, and I see a stranger.

I walk back to the living room, and Leo is still there, his arms crossed over his chest, his face filled with worry. “You’re really going.”

“I have to,” I say, my voice as cold as the ice in my veins. “I am Volkov. We don’t hide. We fight.”

I know the car will be waiting outside. He wants to talk. And I am going to meet him. I am going to face the man who has turned my world upside down. I kiss Leo on the forehead, and I walk out of the door. The car is an unmarked black SUV, the windows are tinted black.

A man in a tailored suit stands by the open door. He is tall and broad, a cold look plastered on his face. He doesn't speak, he just nods, a silent, grim invitation. I get in, and the car pulls away without a sound. I look at my reflection in the dark glass, this is not my life.