Chapter 37 Alina
Alina’s POV
The light began to shine through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my million-dollar Buckhead penthouse. I’m on the twentieth floor of one of the most prestigious buildings in Atlanta proper. From up here, the city looks quiet. Manageable. Like everything beneath me can be controlled if I simply decide it should be.
My pink lace nightgown clings to my petite body, a body I’ve spent years keeping in good shape. Discipline is the only thing that has never betrayed me. I sit up slowly and stretch before slipping my house slippers on. The marble floors are cool as I make my way toward the kitchen.
I press the button on my espresso machine. The stronger, the better.
As it pours, I walk over and stare out the window over the city as the sun rises. Atlanta wakes slowly, unaware that wars are decided in rooms far quieter than this.
All I can think of is the bastard, Aleksander.
He isn’t at some meeting. He’s in his house in Commerce. With Maria. Dimitri. Adam. His army. Hiding behind gates and guards like that makes him untouchable.
I had loved him more than my life itself, only for him to crush my heart like it was nothing.
I take a slow sip of espresso.
Of course, I have had my lovers over the years. A woman like me has her needs. Men have always circled—powerful men, ambitious men, men who think my last name is something to conquer. But I have never taken another boyfriend or husband.
Here I am at forty, unmarried and the only heir to my father’s empire.
Aleksander destroyed everything for me—my life, my passions, and my heart. Not the empire. He could never destroy that. But he destroyed the part of me that once believed in loyalty between two people.
Her father had told her in his study that night.
The memory rises clearly.
The study was dim, lit only by the amber glow of a desk lamp and the city lights bleeding through the curtains. He stood behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back.
“He’s in Commerce,” my father said evenly. “Building strength.”
I remained seated, legs crossed, posture perfect. “He’s always been ambitious.”
“This isn’t ambition,” he replied. “This is positioning.”
“For what?” I asked, though I already knew.
“For war.”
The word didn’t scare me. It never has.
My father stepped around the desk and looked directly at me. “You were close to him.”
“Was,” I corrected coldly.
He studied my face. “Then you understand why this cannot continue.”
“You want him eliminated,” I said.
“I want him handled.”
“Handled how?” I pressed.
His gaze didn’t waver. “Permanently.”
The air had gone still in that room.
A part of me refused. A small, foolish part remembered the way Aleksander used to look at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
But the majority of my mind screamed for blood and revenge.
“He embarrassed you,” my father continued quietly. “He embarrassed this family.”
My jaw tightened. “He embarrassed me.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “He did.”
Silence stretched between us.
“He chose to stand against us,” my father said. “Against you.”
I stood then, walking toward the window of the study. “And if I refuse?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Then you prove he was right to walk away.”
That cut deeper than anything else.
I turned back to face him. “You think I’m weak?”
“I think you loved him,” he said calmly. “And love clouds judgment.”
I held his gaze. “Not anymore.”
“Good,” he replied. “Because I need to know something.”
“What?”
“When the time comes, will you be able to put a bullet in his heart?”
The question had hung heavy in the air.
Now, standing in my penthouse, I whisper the answer I gave that night.
“Yes.”
Back then, I said it without trembling. Without tears.
My father watched me carefully. “This isn’t about jealousy.”
“It’s about power,” I corrected.
“It’s about survival,” he countered.
Aleksander thinks he’s building something in Commerce. He thinks his walls, his men—Dimitri, Adam, the rest of his army—make him invincible.
He thinks Maria is safe there.
Maria.
My grip tightens around the espresso cup at the thought of her name.
“She doesn’t know what she’s standing in,” I mutter to myself.
I imagine her inside that house. Protected. Sheltered behind him.
He once stood in front of me the same way.
“Stay behind me,” he had said years ago when tensions were high between our families.
“I don’t hide,” I told him.
“You will if I ask you to,” he replied, voice low and certain.
I had smiled at him then. “You don’t command me.”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “But I would die for you.”
The irony almost makes me laugh now.
Would he die for Maria?
My phone vibrates on the kitchen counter, pulling me from the memory.
I don’t have to look to know who it is.
“Speak,” I answer.
Viktor’s voice comes through steady and direct. “He hasn’t left the house.”
“With Maria?” I ask.
“Yes. Dimitri and Adam are rotating men. Heavy security.”
“Of course,” I murmur.
There’s a pause. “Your father wants confirmation.”
“Confirmation of what?” I ask, though I already know.
“That you’re still committed.”
I walk back to the window, staring down at Atlanta as if Commerce were visible from here.
“You think I’m hesitating?” I ask.
“I think history makes people unpredictable,” Viktor replies.
“My history makes me precise,” I say coldly.
Silence lingers.
“He once meant something to you,” Viktor presses.
I let out a slow breath. “He once meant everything to me.”
“And now?”
“Now he’s an obstacle.”
“And when you’re standing in front of him?” Viktor asks. “When it’s just you and him?”
I picture it so clearly it almost feels real. Him looking at me in shock. Maybe betrayal. Maybe regret.
A smile reaches my face.
“I will take everything he holds dear and crush it,” I say softly. “And then I will make him feel the pain I’ve felt all these years.”
“The bullet,” Viktor says quietly.
“I’ll put it in his heart myself.”
That seems to satisfy him.
“We’re watching the house,” he says. “Waiting for an opening.”
“Watch Dimitri,” I reply. “He’s the one who thinks three steps ahead.”
“And Maria?”
“She’s leverage.”
“And Aleksander?”
My eyes harden.
“He believes love makes him strong,” I say. “It makes him vulnerable.”
I end the call and set the phone down carefully.
The sun is fully up now, light flooding the penthouse. Everything looks bright. Clean.
But inside me, there is nothing soft left.
Her father had told her in his study that night that power is not about who you love. It’s about who you’re willing to lose.
I understand that now.
Aleksander chose to lose me.
Now he will lose everything.
And when I finally stand in front of him—when the noise dies and it’s just the two of us—I won’t hesitate.
I will put a bullet in his heart.
And this time, I won’t look away.
I shift back to the kitchen putting my espresso cup in the dishwasher.
My nerves on edge as I contemplate revenge.