Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Idiot. He doesn’t see the noose tightening.
My people pour in behind me, spilling into the hall with military precision. Every single man and woman who serves me knows what this moment means. This is the reckoning. We’ve spent years building up to this one moment.
I glance at my phone. Still nothing. Branson hasn’t caught wind. Good.
I lift my head and step forward. My voice is ice cold.
“I did what you fucking told me to,” I say, staring straight at my father. My words cut through the silence like a blade. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for what you made me do.”
They don’t know yet. But they’re about to.
“I have an announcement to make,” I continue, louder now. My words echo up the stairwell. My boots hit each step with weight as I head toward the living room.
Ashland nods. He lifts his phone, starts recording. Branson lingers just behind, his expression shifting. My men step into position, fanning out like wolves. They surround him, silent and still.
My father follows, his eyes unreadable. Curious.
I press a button on the remote. Years ago, Da had this place rigged, family movie nights, they called it. Now I’ll put it to use.
The screen flickers to life, casting a cold glow across the space. First slide: the beginning of the end.
“You asked. You followed,” I say. “You believed a traitor.”
Branson shifts in his seat. “What the hell is this?”
“Quiet,” I snap. “I’m in charge now.”
He starts to rise—wrong move. Four hands shove him back down. His face twists. “Get your hands off—”
“Sit still.”
I turn to my father. “Give me ten minutes. Just ten fucking minutes. To show you why I did what I did. Why I had to.”
My voice breaks just slightly. “You asked me to kill my wife.”
Silence. Then, my father: “You have it. Branson. Sit.”
I nod. “Branson betrayed you. All of you. And I have the proof.”
The screen changes, and now it’s footage. Conversations caught on hidden cameras. Handshakes in shadows. Money exchanged. Envelopes. Whispers. Tells.
“You don’t know. You can’t—”
“Ah. I can. Quiet,” I snap, furious that he made me do what I did. He’ll pay for that.
The men in the room shift, the weight of the truth starting to press down. Guns slowly rise, eyes narrowing.
There are codes. Timestamps. Locations. Names. Lines connecting him to Russia. To the rogue Kopolovs.
“Matvei Kopolov’s parents,” I say. “They’ve been working with Branson. Trying to steal the crown from within. They failed to claim the Kopolov throne. So they came here to take ours.”
My mother covers her mouth. The screen keeps cycling… documents, intercepted calls, blueprints.
“This is the coup plot,” I say. “This was the plan to take everything from us. Including Kyla.”
A final slide hits the screen: Branson’s handwriting. A note, short and scrawled in ink.
Take her.
Kyla.
Gasps. Kyla’s scream pierces through the silence.
My father draws his gun, aiming at Branson, held in check only by discipline.
I step forward again, my eyes locked on the screen. “You wanted proof. Now you have it.”
My voice is steady and calm, even when I want to scream. My fist clenches.
“I went to Moscow when I found out about the Kopolov betrayal. I met with Matvei. Risked everything. And I brought it back.”
More slides. Text messages. Photos. Flight logs. Weapons stashes. All of it.
My phone buzzes. A message.
Matvei
They’re here. I can’t stop them. You have five minutes.
Shit. My chest tightens. I glance at my father. “That night, at the Wolf and Moon, it wasn’t the Russians who pulled the trigger. I killed them for their betrayal, which I’ve shown you clear as day. I made sure no one was left alive.”
A pause.
“Except one,” I add. “Zoya Kopolova. She saw everything. I took her. Made her my wife. And I did it for this. For you. Because they were trying to overthrow you.”
I look around. Eyes are wide. Weapons are drawn. The gravity hits.
“I need you to hold Branson. Keep him alive. Punish him with Matvei’s parents. But we don’t have time. The Kopolovs are at our door.”
Gasps rise around me.
I spin to the guard. “Where’s Matvei?”
“We lost contact.”
I squeeze the remote. Boots on gravel. Outside.
My father steps up beside me, his face grim. “This goes deeper than betrayal. This is war.”
But it isn’t who I expected. It isn’t Rafail Kopolov or one of his men.
We both turn as the front door creaks open, and Matvei enters the room.
“I tried to hold her back,” he says, pleading. “But she says she has something important to tell you.”
“You have her, then?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
Zoya steps out of the shadow behind him and into the light.
Chapter 30
ZOYA
“Zoya.” Seamus stares at me across the room. They all do. Caitlin cries quietly. Even Kyla wipes at her eyes. But everyone’s still.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m so sorry.” He faces the room.