Chapter 148 Nikolai
I stared at Alexander Volkov, rage and disgust coursing through my veins. Anya was still tied to the chair, her head hanging low, hair covering her face.
"Let my woman go," I commanded. My voice was low, dangerous.
Alexander burst into laughter. A deep, mocking, theatrical laugh that bounced off the walls and filled the dark space. His men chuckled along with him, their guns still aimed at my chest.
"Your woman?" Alexander said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Oh, Markov. You are so easy. You came running the moment I dangled her in front of you. Just like a dog chasing a bone."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded. My hands clenched into fists.
Alexander walked closer to the chair. He grabbed the woman's hair and pulled her head back. I saw her face clearly for the first time. It wasn't Anya. They only had the same feature.
"That is not Anya," Alexander said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "This is an actress. I needed you to come running without thinking."
Rage exploded through me. I lunged at him but two of his men grabbed my arms and slammed me against the wall. My head hit the concrete. Stars burst behind my eyes.
"You bastard," I spat. Blood dripped from my lip where I had bitten down. "Where is my wife? Where is Anya?!"
"Safe," Alexander said, walking toward me slowly. "She is in my home. In a beautiful room. With good food, clean clothes, and medical care. Something you never provided."
"Let her go!"
"No." The word was sharp. "I need her. And you need to understand that you have no power here. You came alone because I told you to come alone. And now you are mine."
I struggled against the guards but they held me tight. "What do you want with her? She has nothing. No money. No connections. No power."
"She has everything." Alexander pulled out a photograph and held it in front of my face. An old man in a hospital bed. "My grandfather. Dmitri Volkov. The head of our family. He is dying, Markov. He has days. Maybe hours before he dies. And before he dies, he wants to see all his grandchildren. Including Anya."
"Anya is not your grandchild."
"She is." Alexander put the photograph away. "Her mother, Elena Koslov, was my father's mistress. Anya is my half-sister. We have the DNA tests to prove it."
I stared at him. The words did not make sense. "You are lying."
"I am not." Alexander's voice was calm. "My grandfather sent her mother away the moment she got pregnant. He did not want a bastard child tainting the family name"
My head was spinning. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because my grandfather changed his mind. On his deathbed, he wants to seek her forgiveness. He wants to give her what should have been hers from the beginning. More than half of his entire fortune. Billions of rubles."
"So this is about money."
"Everything is about money, Markov. You know that better than anyone."
"You are a monster." I spat on his face.
"No. I am a survivor. Just like you. The only difference is that I do not pretend to be something I am not." He stepped back and looked at me with something like pity. "You should be thanking me. I saved her life. She was dying in that forest. If I had not found her, she would be dead right now. Eaten by animals. Rotting in the dirt."
"Because of you!" I shouted. "You took her from the burning estate! You could have returned her to me that night! But you did not. You kept her. You locked her in a room. You played games with her mind."
"I kept her safe."
"You kept her prisoner!"
Alexander's face twitched. For a moment, something like anger flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone. "She was safe. She was fed. She was cared for. More than you ever did for her."
I laughed. It came out bitter and hollow. "You do not know me. You do not know what I have done for her. What I would do for her."
"I know you kept her locked in a cage when you first met her. I know you married her to protect yourself from your enemies. I know you faked your death and left her alone to be captured by Volkov. I know everything, Markov."
"Let me see her," I said. My voice was quieter now. "Please. Just let me see her."
"No. Not until after the will is signed. Not until she has done what I need her to do."
"You will not get away with this," I said. But even I did not believe my own words.
Alexander opened his mouth to respond, but his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. His expression changed. Something flickered across his face. He turned away from me and answered.
"Yes? What is it?"
I could not hear the voice on the other end. But I watched Alexander's face. Watched the color drain from his cheeks. Watched his jaw clench. Watched his free hand curl into a fist.
"I understand," he said. His voice was steady but there was something underneath. Something raw. "I will be there as soon as I can."
He hung up and stood there for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand. His men looked at him, confused. The actress sat in her chair, silent and forgotten.
"What is it, Boss?" One of the guards asked.
Alexander turned to face me. His eyes were empty. "My grandfather is dead. He died a few minutes ago. On Anya's lap." His face brightened with a smile.
The words hit me like a physical blow. Not because I cared about the old man. I had never met him. But because Anya had been there. Holding a dying stranger. Watching the life fade from his eyes. She had been through so much already. So much pain. So much loss. And now this.
"Where is she now?" I asked.
"At the estate. With the body. With the family." Alexander walked toward the stairs, then stopped. He turned back to look at me. "The reading of the will will happen tonight. There is no time to waste. The lawyers are already on their way."
"You cannot do this. She is grieving. She needs time. She needs..."
"She needs to sign the documents." Alexander's voice was hard. "Everything depends on her signature. My grandfather gave her more than half of his fortune. More than me. More than all of us combined. And if she does not claim it, if she does not put her seal on the papers, everything goes to charity. Everything my family built. Everything my grandfather bled for. Gone."
"So this was never about family. It was always about the money."
"Of course it was about the money." Alexander laughed, but there was no humor in it. "What else is there? Love? Family? Honor? Those are words poor people use to comfort themselves. Money is the only thing that matters. Money is power. Money is freedom. Money is the only thing that has ever kept any of us alive."
I looked at him and saw myself. The man I used to be. The man I had been before Anya. Cold and calculating. Willing to do anything for power and wealth.
But I had changed. She had changed me. And looking at Alexander, I realized he would never change. He would never understand what it meant to love someone more than money.
"About time," Alexander said quietly. He looked at his watch. Then at his men. "Keep him here. Do not let him leave. Do not let him make any calls. If he tries to escape, shoot him."
"Understood, boss," the head guard said.
Alexander climbed the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The door slammed shut behind him. The lock clicked.
And I was alone with five armed men and a fake Anya who would not meet my eyes.