LilianaFour weeks later, I stood in a cemetery on the outskirts of Moscow, watching as they lowered Anastasia Volkova's casket into the frozen ground. Snow was falling steadily, covering the dark wood with a pristine white shroud that made the whole scene look peaceful, and almost beautiful.It was a lie, of course. There was nothing peaceful about Anastasia's death or the legacy she left behind. But winter had a way of making even the ugliest truths look clean.Mikhail stood beside me, his hand warm in mine despite the cold. He hadn't spoken much in the weeks since our confrontation with Anastasia, but he was healing. Slowly, carefully, like a man learning to walk again after a devastating injury. The breakdown in her room had been necessary, I think. Sometimes you have to fall completely apart before you can rebuild yourself into something new.There were perhaps a dozen people at the funeral. Former associates, business partners, people who owed their positions to Anastasia's infl
Last Updated : 2025-09-25
