All Chapters of Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake : Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Chapter 161The Prokofiev Pride felt different now. The air wasn't just cold; it was empty. The halls that usually buzzed with the silent, lethal presence of Sergei’s elite guards were hollow. I walked through the grand foyer, my black tactical gear stained with the salt of Russian snow and the copper scent of my own blood. My shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat, but I didn't care. The "friend" I’d called had delivered. The machines were here.As I rounded the corner toward the private medical wing, a figure blurred toward me. "Evelina! What in God’s name happened to you?" Yamelyan’s silver eyes were blown wide with terror. He reached for my bloodied shoulder, his hands trembling. "You’re bleeding. You’re pale. Where is Sergei? He took every man we have and left us here defenseless. He wouldn't answer the comms.""Sergei is busy," I said, my voice as flat as a frozen lake. I brushed past him, my boots clicking with a finality that made Lenochka, who was standing by the door, flin

Chapter 163The room was a hollow shell of broken glass and shattered identities. I stood there, my tactical gear heavy with the weight of my own blood and the crushing rejection of my son, watching the girl I had birthed cling to the neck of a man who dealt in secrets and souls like they were common currency.Cyprian stood tall, his hand resting on Luna’s back with a proprietary air that made my stomach churn. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with a cold, intellectual satisfaction.“She’s home, Evelyn,” Cyprian said, his voice a smooth, terrifying silk. “She knows where she belongs.”I felt the sob rising in my throat, but I forced it down, molding it into something harder. Something sharper. I felt my lips twitch, pulling back into a wicked, jagged smile that didn't reach my eyes. My heart was a pulverized mess, but my mind was a steel trap.“You think you’ve won, don’t you, Cyprian?” I whispered, the sound cutting through the hum of the remaining medical monitors. “You think b

Chapter 165Few Weeks LaterThe grand council chamber of the Northern Spire was built to intimidate. It was a cavernous room of black obsidian and cold marble, where the air was kept at a precise, bone-chilling temperature to ensure no one ever felt too comfortable. In the center of the room stood five high-backed chairs of carved bone and iron, arranged in a semi-circle that felt less like a boardroom and more like a tribunal.Outside, the Russian winter howled, but inside, the silence was even more lethal.Viktor Volkov sat in the center chair, his fingers steepled, staring into the flickering embers of a massive fireplace. Flanking him were the Four Lords of the Russian, Underground men who had survived purges, coups, and famines by being more monstrous than the problems they faced.Lord Borodin, a man whose face was a roadmap of scars from a Siberian gulag, broke the silence with a dry, rattling cough. He shifted his heavy frame, the leather of his chair creaking.“Two weeks, Vik

Chapter 167The air in the Spire felt thinner now that the deal was struck. I stood in the center of the obsidian room, the silver tablet in my hand feeling like a detonator. Viktor Volkov was towering over me, his presence a physical weight, his eyes dark with the hunger for the kill."The coordinates," Viktor prompted, his voice like the low thrum of a predator’s growl. "Where is the lioness hiding her cubs?"I didn't blink. I pulled up a topographical map of the Saimaa lake system in Eastern Finland, a labyrinth of thousands of islands and frozen inlets. I zoomed in on a cluster of jagged landmasses near the Russian border."Sector Seven, Island 402," I said, my voice clinical and detached. "There is a decommissioned Soviet listening post tucked into the granite cliffs. It’s off the grid, shielded by natural iron deposits. My pings intercepted a localized encrypted transmission three nights ago. High-frequency, short-burst. It’s the signature of a Sterling-grade satellite phone."I

Chapter 169The drive to the Kirov estate was a blur of neon lights and freezing rain. My mind was a chaotic library, flipping through every piece of data I’d scraped from Rai’s encrypted cloud storage. Dinner. Think, Evelyn. What does she eat? How does she sit?Rai was left-handed but forced herself to use her right hand to please her father. She hated caviar but always took a double serving to show 'strength.' She never spoke unless spoken to. I pulled into the massive driveway, the iron gates groaning open like the jaws of a beast. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. The makeup was holding. The wound on my neck looked authentic. I stepped out of the car, the Russian winter air biting at my skin. I wasn't Evelyn Prokofiev anymore. I wasn't even a spy. I was a daughter returning to a home that had never been a home."Welcome back, Miss Rai," the butler said, his face a mask of indifference."Thank you, Mikhail," I said, remembering the name from a payroll list.I walke