Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE PRICE OF THEIR NAME : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

The silence in the penthouse was heavy as the clock ticked toward four. I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing a sweater that cost more than my old car. It was soft, a deep charcoal wool that felt like a second skin, but it felt like a uniform."Stop picking at your sleeves," Dmitri said from the sofa. He was reading a file, looking perfectly at ease, as if we weren't about to commit a massive emotional fraud."I’m nervous," I admitted, my voice small. "What if I say something wrong? What if she asks about my studio back home?"Ivan walked into the room, carrying a tray with a porcelain tea set. He looked like the picture of a gracious host. He stopped in front of me and reached out, adjusting the collar of my shirt beneath the sweater. His fingers lingered against my neck, a warm, grounding pressure."Then you tell her the truth—that you don't miss that drafty little room," Ivan said softly. "You tell her that your art needs light, and space, and peace. All of whic

The morning light was soft, filtering through the sheer curtains of the breakfast nook. I was wrapped in a silk robe that cost more than my father’s old car, staring into a cup of black coffee. The house felt different today. It didn't feel like a place I was visiting or even a place I was being held. It felt like a headquarters.Ivan and Dmitri were already at the table, but they weren't looking at stock tickers or news reports. Spread out between the fruit plates and the silver cutlery were architectural blueprints and glossy brochures for massive estates in the countryside."Sit, Leo," Ivan said, not looking up but sensing me there. He pulled out the chair next to him. "We were waiting for you to wake up before we looked at the photos of the north wing."I sat down slowly, my heart thumping against my ribs. "What is all this? Are we moving?"Dmitri took a sip of his tea and slid a folder toward me. "We’re expanding. This house is fine for now, but it’s a city house. It’s tight. We

The air inside L’Eclat smelled like expensive lilies and aged wine. It was the kind of place where the floors were polished so bright you could see your own nervous expression staring back at you. Leo adjusted his tie for the tenth time, feeling the silk pull against his throat."Stop fidgeting, Leo," Dmitri said, his voice low and smooth. He reached over, his hand steady as he brushed a stray hair from Leo’s forehead. "You look perfect. You always look perfect."Leo forced a small smile. "I just feel like everyone is staring. Is it the suit? Is it too much?"Ivan, sitting on Leo’s other side, chuckled. He leaned in, his shoulder pressing comfortably against Leo’s. "They aren't staring at the suit, Leo. They’re staring at us. The Volkov twins out for dinner? It’s a rare sight for these people. And having you between us makes them even more curious.""I don't like being a curiosity," Leo muttered. He looked down at the heavy silver fork at his setting."You aren't a curiosity to us," I

Leo didn't sleep. He couldn't. He had spent the remaining hours of the night sitting on the floor of the studio, his back against the cold, seamless door. When the sun finally began to bleed over the horizon, it didn't feel like a new day. It felt like the start of a long shift.The hiss of the door opening made him jump.Dmitri stepped in, looking refreshed in a charcoal suit. He didn't look like a man who had locked someone in a box. He looked like a man who had just finished a pleasant breakfast. He held a ceramic cup of coffee, the steam curling into the filtered air."Good morning, Leo," Dmitri said, his voice smooth and untroubled. "I see you've already been enjoying the space."Leo stood up, his legs stiff. "The door, Dmitri. Why doesn't it open from the inside?"Dmitri took a slow sip of his coffee. He didn't look at the door. He looked at Leo. "It’s for your focus. You’ve always complained about how easily you get distracted. Here, the world can’t intrude. You don't have to w

The morning light felt aggressive. It spilled across the studio floor, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. Leo sat on his stool, staring at a blank canvas. His head throbbed from the stress of the previous night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the disappointed faces of the twins and the judgmental stares of the gallery guests.The door clicked open. It wasn't the heavy, purposeful stride of Dmitri. It was the quieter, more rhythmic step of Ivan."You haven't touched your breakfast," Ivan said. He was carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a single plate of sliced fruit. He set it down on a side table, moving a few paint-stained rags out of the way."I'm not hungry," Leo muttered. "I feel sick.""That’s the adrenaline leaving your system," Ivan replied calmly. He pulled up a chair and sat directly across from Leo. He didn't look angry today. He looked... patient. That was almost worse. "Last night was a disaster, Leo. We both know that.""I told the truth," Leo said,