جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 40

The days following my final surrender felt like walking underwater. Slow, silent, and heavy. The silence was the worst part. There was no more panic about bills, no more frantic calls to suppliers, no more dread of the bank statement. That chaos had been replaced by a profound, cold stillness. My anxiety, the constant background hum of my life, was gone, but so was my sense of self.The twins were pleased. They treated me with a strange, possessive gentleness now, a dark affection that came with total surveillance. I had peace, but it felt like a peace achieved after death.I was sitting in the immaculate glass studio, the city skyline blurring outside, when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mom.Leo, can you spare an hour this afternoon? I’m near the Conservatory Garden. I just need a proper hug before the madness of Friday's planning starts. I miss you!The message was a bright, simple splash of color in my monochrome cage. My mind instantly seized on it. Normalcy.I hesitated, kn

The desperate resolve to run—to sacrifice my own life for Mom’s peace—was a cold, hard stone in my chest. The tears from the breakdown were dry now, leaving my skin feeling tight and raw. I had the will to go. Now, I needed the impossible: resources.I couldn’t just walk out with the clothes on my back. I needed a train ticket, maybe three nights in a cheap motel far enough away that the Volkovs couldn't sweep the city in an hour.My mind was clear now, running on pure, terrified adrenaline. Where? Where did I hide anything before the takeover?I started the frantic search in the only space I could call my own: the massive walk-in closet they had assigned me. It was filled with beautiful, tailored coats and luxurious sweaters. I ripped through the pockets, feeling nothing but expensive silk linings. The clothes were a costume, and the closet was a display case.I moved to the desk again. I found the leather box from the night before, the one with the small allowance. It held three cri

The silence of the penthouse was the most suffocating thing. It wasn't the silence of an empty house; it was the tailored, insulated quiet of a fortress—the kind of quiet that meant nothing was happening without permission.I stood by the gym bag, the pathetic object of my rebellion. Inside: the eighty dollars, the farewell letters pinned to my oldest hoodie, a toothbrush, and my passport. My entire future, boiled down to a few items that could fit under a coat. The contrast was a slap in the face. This room alone cost more than I had ever earned in my life, and I was leaving it with the belongings of a vagrant.My nerves were vibrating. It was 1:47 AM.The security team changes shifts at 2:00 AM. There's a blind spot in the garage elevator access for exactly twelve minutes.I didn't know how I knew that, but the knowledge was lodged in my brain, a cold, clinical data point. Maybe it was something Ivan had casually mentioned about "optimization," or maybe my survival instinct had simp

They didn't take me back to my room.The security sedan delivered me not to the penthouse, but to a discreet, windowless floor of the Residence, where they conducted high-level, private business. The room was a small study, entirely clad in dark wood paneling, lit only by a single, focused desk lamp. It smelled of old leather and expensive scotch.Ivan sat behind the desk, impassive, sorting through a pile of documents that likely had nothing to do with me. Dmitri stood leaning against the wall near the door, his arms crossed, his entire posture radiating a coiled, terrifying stillness.I stood in the center of the room, still wearing the cheap, wrinkled jacket I had tried to escape in. I was shivering, not from the cold, but from the raw exposure of my total failure. My eyes felt bruised from crying, and my throat was tight with shame.Ivan didn't look up immediately. He finished signing a document, his movements neat and precise, before finally setting down his pen and meeting my ga

The return trip from the cold, dark study was silent. We didn't take the staff elevator; we took the private lift to the penthouse floor, the one that required both Dmitri’s and Ivan’s fingerprints to activate. It was a clear, non-verbal message: I was no longer just a resident; I was a specific, high-value asset, requiring dual clearance.When the doors opened, the atmosphere in the penthouse was unchanged—still immaculate, still silent, still smelling faintly of expensive wood polish. But the air around me felt suddenly colder, thinner.Dmitri kept a firm, non-negotiable grip on my arm as he guided me into the living area. He released me only when we reached the center of the room.Ivan was already there, holding a tablet. He looked less like a corporate executive and more like a warden reviewing the security protocols."We need to clarify the structural parameters, Leo," Ivan began, his voice dry and functional. "Your attempt this evening was costly, both in time and in the necessa