Chapter 7: The Waiting
The penthouse felt smaller with Nikolai gone.
Vera dressed quickly, her hands still trembling from the aftermath of their intimacy and the shock of Katya’s news. She found Katya in the living room, pacing, her phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline.
“He’s not answering,” Katya said, not looking up. “He always answers.”
“Give him time. He’s probably dealing with the situation.” Vera didn’t know if she believed her own words, but they were what Katya needed to hear. “Tell me about the warehouse. About Alexei.”
Katya stopped pacing and looked at Vera with an expression that was equal parts fear and fury. “Alexei has worked for our family for twenty years. He was my father’s cook before he was ours. He’s not just an employee—he’s family. If Daniel’s people hurt him, Niko will burn the city down.”
“Good,” Vera said, and meant it.
Katya stared at her for a long moment, then let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “You really aren’t like the others.”
“The others?”
“The women Niko has been involved with. They were always so… fragile. Scared of him. Scared of what he does. You’re not scared, are you?”
Vera thought about it. “I’m terrified. But not of him.”
“Good. Because he needs someone who isn’t.” Katya moved to the window, looking down at the city. “My brother carries too much. He always has. Since our father died, he’s been trying to hold everything together—the business, the family, the public face. He doesn’t let anyone help.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“But he lets you in. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.” Katya turned back, her eyes sharp. “Don’t break his heart, Vera. He may be a monster to the world, but his heart is the softest part of him.”
Vera opened her mouth to respond, but the elevator dinged before she could.
Both women spun toward the door. A moment later, Nikolai stepped out, and the sight of him made Vera’s blood run cold.
He was covered in blood. Not his own, she realized with a wave of relief—the splatter pattern suggested someone else’s, close-range. His face was pale, his jaw set, and his eyes were flat and dead in a way that made her stomach clench.
“Niko.” Katya rushed to him, but he held up a hand, stopping her.
“Don’t. I’m fine.” He looked past her to Vera, and something flickered in his eyes—relief, maybe, or regret. “Alexei is alive. Barely. They worked him over, but he’ll survive.”
Vera felt her knees go weak. “Where is he?”
“Downstairs. Dmitri’s people are taking care of him.” Nikolai moved into the room, stripping off his bloodied jacket and dropping it on the floor. “But they made their point. They want the evidence, Vera. All of it. In exchange for Alexei’s life and the ring.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them I’d consider it.” He laughed, a sound with no humor in it. “Then I killed the messenger and sent his head back in a box.”
Katya flinched, but Vera just watched him. The violence didn’t shock her—she’d known what he was capable of. What shocked her was the weight of it, the way it sat on his shoulders like a physical thing.
“You can’t give them the evidence,” Vera said quietly. “If they destroy it, Daniel walks.”
“I know.” Nikolai looked at her, and for the first time since he’d walked in, his expression softened. “I won’t give them anything. But I need to find the traitor. Someone got into my private quarters. Someone took the ring from my bedroom. That means someone I trust has been working against me.”
“Dmitri?” Katya’s voice was small.
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” Nikolai moved toward Vera, stopping just close enough to touch but not touching. “I need you to stay with Katya. I’ll have guards posted outside the door.”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Vera said.
“You don’t have a choice. I need to work, and I can’t do that if I’m worried about you.” He reached out and cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Please, Vera. For once, just listen.”
She wanted to argue. But the exhaustion in his eyes stopped her.
“Fine. But if you’re not back by morning, I’m coming after you.”
His lips twitched. “I’d expect nothing less.”
He kissed her—a brief, hard kiss that tasted like copper and smoke—and then he was gone, the elevator doors closing behind him.
Katya let out a shaky breath. “He’s going to find out who did this. And when he does, it’s going to be bad.”
Vera sat down heavily on the couch, her body aching from the night’s events. “Good.”
Chapter 8: The Test
Vera didn’t sleep.
She sat in the living room with Katya, drinking coffee that Alexei would have made if he’d been there, and staring at the door. Every sound made her jump. Every shadow made her think of the men who’d gotten past security, the traitor who’d opened the door.
At some point, Katya fell asleep on the couch, her head resting on a cushion. Vera watched her for a long moment, this fierce young woman who’d already lost so much, and felt a pang of something that might have been protectiveness.
She was starting to care about these people. That was dangerous.
It was nearly dawn when Vera finally moved, slipping into the bathroom to splash water on her face. She caught her reflection in the mirror—pale skin, dark circles, the thin cut on her cheek from the shattered window. She looked like a woman who’d been through a war.
She was about to turn away when a thought stopped her cold.
Her period.
She’d been so busy, so consumed by fear and adrenaline and the slow-burning tension with Nikolai, that she’d lost track of time. But now, standing in the bathroom of a crime lord’s penthouse, she did the math in her head.
Two weeks late.
No. It couldn’t be. She’d been careful. She’d always been careful with Daniel, back when she still shared a bed with him—and with Nikolai, they’d used protection. Hadn’t they?
The memory was hazy, lost in the heat of the moment. But the truth was, she didn’t know for sure.
Her hand flew to her stomach. She stood there, frozen, as the possibility washed over her like a wave.
Pregnant.
The word felt foreign, impossible. She’d spent eighteen months fighting to survive, fighting to get out, fighting to build a case that would destroy Daniel. A baby had never been part of the plan. And now, with Daniel’s people hunting her, with Nikolai’s world threatening to swallow her whole, a child would be—
A liability. A vulnerability. A reason for Daniel to come after her even harder.
But also, a reason to fight.
She found a pharmacy bag under the sink—likely left behind by a previous occupant or stocked by household staff—and rummaged through it until she found what she needed. The box was unopened, the instructions in Russian, but she didn’t need to read them to know what to do.
She locked the door and sat on the edge of the tub, her hands shaking as she opened the package.
The wait was the longest three minutes of her life.
When the result appeared, she stared at it for a long, uncomprehending moment.
Two lines.
Positive.
Vera pressed her hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. Not tears of sadness, exactly. Something more complicated. Fear and hope and overwhelming, terrifying love for a life that didn’t even exist yet.
She was pregnant. With Nikolai Petrov’s child.
And she had no idea what to do about it.
Chapter 9: The Interrogation
Nikolai returned as the sun was rising, his face grim, his clothes still stained with blood that wasn’t his.
Vera had composed herself by then, tucking the pregnancy test into the bottom of the trash can and washing her face until the tears were gone. She met him in the living room, where Katya was still asleep on the couch.
“Did you find him?” Vera asked quietly.
“Not yet. But I will.” Nikolai’s voice was hoarse, like he’d been shouting. “I’ve brought in everyone who had access to the penthouse. Guards, household staff, business associates. One of them will break.”
Vera studied him for a moment, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands kept flexing like he was imagining them around someone’s throat. “You need to rest.”
“I’ll rest when this is over.”
“Nikolai—”
“Don’t.” He turned to face her, and the look in his eyes was wild, desperate. “I failed you, Vera. I promised to protect you, and someone got inside my own home. Someone I trusted. They took Alexei, they took my father’s ring, and they would have taken you if they’d had the chance. Don’t tell me to rest while that person is still breathing.”
Vera stepped closer, not flinching from his anger. “Then let me help. I’m good at finding things people want to hide. Let me go through the security logs, the financial records, anything that might tell us who’s been working against you.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and she saw the war in his eyes—the part of him that wanted to lock her away, keep her safe, versus the part that was starting to see her as more than a victim. An equal.
“Fine,” he said finally. “But you don’t leave this floor without me or Dmitri. Understood?”
“Understood.”
She worked all day, hunched over a laptop in Nikolai’s study while he interrogated suspects in the basement. Katya had woken and disappeared somewhere, leaving Vera alone with her thoughts and the weight of her secret.
The more she dug, the more she found. The security logs showed a gap in the surveillance coverage—three minutes between 2:14 and 2:17 a.m. on the night of the break-in. Someone had shut off the cameras, just long enough for the attackers to get in and out with the ring.
And the access codes used to disable the system? They belonged to one person.
Dmitri Volkov.
Vera stared at the screen, her heart sinking. She’d liked Dmitri. He’d been kind to her, welcoming. But the evidence was right there, staring her in the face.
Unless someone had framed him.
She was still staring at the screen when Nikolai walked in, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, blood on his knuckles. “What did you find?”
Vera turned the laptop to face him. “The security logs show a three-minute gap during the break-in. The system was disabled using Dmitri’s access codes.”
Nikolai’s face went blank. “Dmitri.”
“It could be a setup. Someone could have stolen his credentials. But—”
“But it looks bad.” He moved around the desk, reading the screen for himself. “Dmitri has access to everything. He knew the security protocols. He knew where I kept the ring.”
“He also had access to the Hudson Yards accounts,” Vera said carefully. “The skimming I found earlier. It all points to him.”
Nikolai was silent for a long moment. Then he turned and walked to the window, staring out at the city. “I’ve known Dmitri for fifteen years. He was my father’s man before he was mine. He saved my life twice. He stood by me when my father was killed and the family was in chaos. He’s my sister’s godfather.”
“I know.”
“If he’s betrayed me…” Nikolai’s voice cracked. “Then I don’t know who I can trust.”
Vera rose and crossed the room, standing beside him. “You can trust me.”
He looked at her, and something in his face softened. “I know. That’s what scares me.”
The confrontation with Dmitri happened that evening.
Nikolai summoned him to the study, his expression carefully neutral. Vera stood in the corner, watching, her heart pounding. Dmitri walked in with the easy confidence of a man who’d done nothing wrong—but there was something else in his posture, a tension that hadn’t been there before.
“You wanted to see me?” Dmitri asked.
“I found a gap in the security logs,” Nikolai said, his voice flat. “Three minutes, during the break-in. The system was disabled with your access codes.”
Dmitri’s face went pale. “That’s impossible. I was in my apartment. I have witnesses—”
“Witnesses can be bought. Codes can be stolen.” Nikolai moved closer, circling him slowly. “But the evidence is there, Dmitri. Your codes opened the door. Your codes shut off the cameras. And your accounts show money moving that I never authorized. So either you’re working for Daniel, or you’ve been incredibly sloppy. Which is it?”
Dmitri’s hands clenched at his sides. “I’m not a traitor. I’ve never betrayed you. Someone is setting me up.”
“Prove it.”
“How am I supposed to prove a negative?”
“You can start by telling me who else had access to your codes.” Nikolai stopped in front of him, close enough that they were nearly nose-to-nose. “Because right now, the only suspect I have is you.”
Vera watched, her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know if Dmitri was guilty or not, but she could see the fear in his eyes—real fear, not the kind that came from being caught, but the kind that came from being accused of something monstrous by someone you loved.
“Think, Niko,” Dmitri said, his voice raw. “If I wanted to take you down, I could have done it a hundred times over. I know where you keep your weapons. I know your schedules. I know everything about your operation. Why would I use my own codes to open the door? That’s not a betrayal—that’s a suicide note.”
Nikolai stared at him, and Vera saw the conflict in his face. The evidence said one thing. His instincts said another.
“Then someone wanted us to think it was you,” Nikolai said slowly. “Someone who had access to your codes and knew how to make it look like you were guilty.”
“Who?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out.” Nikolai stepped back, his posture shifting from accusation to something more calculated. “I’m going to keep you in a holding room until I figure this out. Not because I think you’re guilty, but because if someone’s framing you, they might try again. And I can’t afford to lose you.”
Dmitri looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “I understand. But Niko—watch your back. Whoever’s doing this is close. Closer than you think.”
Nikolai didn’t answer. He just watched as two guards led Dmitri away, his face unreadable.
When the door closed, Vera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “You don’t think he did it.”
“I don’t know what I think.” Nikolai rubbed a hand over his face. “But I do know one thing. Whoever set this up knew I’d suspect Dmitri. They wanted to create chaos, to divide us. And they’re succeeding.”
“So what do we do?”
“We find the real traitor. And we do it before they strike again.”
Chapter 10: The Small Hours
That night, Nikolai didn’t come to bed.
Vera lay alone in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling, her hand resting on her stomach. The pregnancy test was hidden in the bathroom trash, but the knowledge sat in her chest like a stone, heavy and undeniable.
She should tell him. She knew that. But every time she imagined the conversation, she saw the look on his face—fear, anger, maybe worse. He was already drowning in the weight of his world. Adding a child to the chaos felt almost cruel.
But the baby didn’t care about timing. It was real, growing inside her, and sooner or later, she’d have to say something.
She was still awake when the bedroom door opened, and Nikolai slipped inside. He moved quietly, like a shadow, and she felt the bed shift as he lay down beside her.
“I thought you were staying in the study,” she whispered.
“I couldn’t concentrate.” His voice was rough. “I kept thinking about you.”
Vera turned to face him. In the darkness, she could just make out the outline of his face, the hard line of his jaw. “I’m right here.”
He reached for her, pulling her against him, and she felt the tension in his body—the coiled energy of a man who hadn’t slept in days, who was holding on by sheer force of will. “I’m sorry,” he said, his lips against her hair. “For all of this. You didn’t ask for any of it.”
“Neither did you.”
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I asked for exactly this. I built this life. The violence, the paranoia, the enemies—it’s all mine. But you… you were just trying to get away from your husband. You didn’t sign up to be dragged into my war.”
“I signed up the moment I walked into your apartment and found you holding my flash drive.” She tilted her head back to look at him. “I chose this, Nikolai. Every step of the way. Don’t take that away from me.”
He stared at her, and even in the dark, she could see the emotion in his eyes. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not. I’m just too stubborn to give up.”
He kissed her then, softer than before, and Vera felt something shift between them—a tenderness that went beyond physical attraction. This was something else entirely. Something that scared her more than any threat.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, the words escaping before she could stop them.
“Tell me.”
She opened her mouth, the confession on the tip of her tongue, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Nikolai went still. “Who is it?”
Vera grabbed the phone, her heart lurching at the screen. It was a text from an unknown number.
“Check the garden. You’ll find something that belongs to you.”
She read it twice, her blood turning to ice. “It’s about the community garden. Someone wants me to go there.”
Nikolai took the phone, his jaw tightening as he read. “It’s a trap.”
“I know.”
“We’re not going.”
Vera sat up, her hands shaking. “If it’s about the garden, it might be about the charter. The founding member clause. There’s something there I never told you.”
He looked at her sharply. “What?”
“The garden’s charter. It was written by a lawyer my father hired. It’s not just about the plaque—it contains a clause that gives the founding member certain rights. Rights that might be… valuable.”
“What kind of rights?”
Vera swallowed hard. “The right to the land. The garden sits on a parcel that was originally owned by my family. My father put it into a trust, with the founding member as trustee. If something happens to me, the trust reverts to the city. But as long as I’m alive, I control that land. And that land is worth millions.”
Nikolai stared at her. “And Daniel knows this?”
“He must. That’s why Melissa tried to get my name off the plaque. The plaque isn’t just a plaque—it’s part of the legal documentation. If they can erase me from the charter, they can challenge the trust.”
He was already reaching for his gun. “Then we’re going. But not alone.”
“Nikolai—”
“Vera.” He turned to her, his eyes fierce. “I’m not letting you walk into a trap. But if there’s something at that garden that can help us, we need to see it. You and me, together. With backup.”
She nodded, her heart pounding. “Okay.”
But as she dressed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—pale, scared, and carrying a secret she still hadn’t told him.
The pregnancy test. The baby.
If Daniel’s people were trying to lure her out, it might already be too late to keep it hidden.
Chapter 11: The Garden at Midnight
The community garden looked different in the dark.
Vera had spent years here, planting and tending and building something that was hers. Now, under the cold glow of streetlights, it looked sinister—the shadowed paths, the rustling of leaves, the faint outline of the founding member plaque at the entrance.
“Stay close,” Nikolai said, his hand on her arm. His other hand rested on the gun at his hip, hidden beneath his jacket.
They’d brought four men, positioned around the perimeter. Dmitri was still in holding, but Nikolai had called in others—trusted soldiers, men who’d been with the family for years. Vera didn’t know their names, but she trusted Nikolai’s judgment.
They moved through the garden slowly, following the path to the center, where a small fountain marked the heart of the space. The plaque was there, mounted on a stone pedestal, just as it had always been.
But something was different.
Vera stopped, her breath catching. The plaque had been painted over—black spray paint, covering the names. And beneath it, carved into the stone, was a single word:
WHORE
She stared at it, her stomach churning. The vandalism was ugly, hateful, but it was the kind of thing she’d learned to expect from Melissa Whitmore. What scared her more was what she saw beneath the plaque.
A package, wrapped in brown paper, tied with string.
“Don’t touch it,” Nikolai warned. “It could be a bomb.”
But Vera was already moving, drawn by something she couldn’t explain. She reached the pedestal, her hands trembling, and carefully untied the string.
Inside was a folder, thick and heavy. And on top of the folder, a single photograph.
It was a photo of her mother.
Vera’s breath caught. Her mother, who had died when Vera was nineteen. Her mother, who had left her the inheritance that had become her last link to her father’s legacy. The photo was faded, curling at the edges, but the face was unmistakable.
And beneath it, a note in Daniel’s handwriting:
“You think you know who you are. You don’t. Come to the old house and I’ll show you the truth.”
The old house. Daniel meant the Manning family estate—the house Vera had grown up in, the house that had been sold after her father’s death. The house she’d never been able to bring herself to visit.
“Nikolai,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “What is this?”
He took the folder, flipping through the contents. His face went pale.
“It’s a copy of a will,” he said quietly. “Your father’s will. The original.”
Vera shook her head. “I’ve seen my father’s will. It left me the company shares, but the estate was sold—”
“Not according to this.” He held up a document. “This says the estate was left to you. Not sold. Left. And there’s a codicil—added after the original—that names a guardian for any children born to you. A guardian named Daniel Manning.”
Vera’s world tilted. “That’s not possible. Daniel was never my guardian. He’s my husband—”
“He married you because of this codicil. Because it gives him control over your inheritance, your estate, everything—including the garden trust. As your husband and as the named guardian, he has power over your assets.” Nikolai’s voice was low, dangerous. “He’s been playing you from the beginning. From before the beginning.”
Vera felt the ground drop away beneath her. Eighteen months of gathering evidence, of thinking she was building a case against him—and all along, he’d been holding a trump card she didn’t even know existed.
“How do I know this is real?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Because it’s notarized. And because it explains everything—why he married you, why he stayed even when the marriage fell apart, why he’s so desperate to keep control.” Nikolai looked at her, and his expression was pure fury, barely contained. “He’s not just a thief. He’s a predator.”
Vera’s hand found her stomach, the secret still hidden there. A child. Daniel’s claim as guardian would extend to her child.
Her child would be in danger, too.
“Nikolai,” she said, her voice breaking. “There’s something I need to tell you—”
But before she could finish, the shadows exploded with movement.
Men in dark clothing emerged from the trees, from behind the hedges, from the path behind them. Vera heard Nikolai curse, heard the click of guns being drawn, and then the first shot rang out.
The trap had been sprung.
Part 3: “You don’t touch what’s mine without losing a hand.”
