Chapter 30 Nikolai
I packed in silence.
The suitcase lay open on my bed, and I moved through the motions mechanically. I packed shirts, pants and ties. Everything precisely folded, organized by color and function.
Business meetings required certain appearances, so did revenge.
I felt her before I saw her.
Marlena stood in the doorway, not speaking. She just watched me with a look I couldn't put a meaning to.
I didn't turn around or acknowledge her presence but my hands faltered slightly as I folded a shirt, and I knew she'd seen it.
"How long will we be there?" Her voice was quiet.
"Two weeks. Maybe longer." I said.
"Longer."
"Depends on how things go."
Silence stretched between us.
I could feel her questions pressing against that silence, demanding to be asked.
Why Monaco? What business? Whose blood was that on your shirt?
But she didn't ask any of them.
Smart girl. She was learning when to push and when to stay quiet.
I moved to the closet, pulling out the safe I kept hidden behind my winter coats.
The passports were inside, exactly where I'd placed them three days ago.
There were wo sets, perfectly forged – the best money could buy. I'd used the same forger who'd made my father's documents twenty years ago, back when that kind of thing had been routine, when the Volkov name meant something in certain circles.
I carried them to where Marlena stood, holding them out without meeting her eyes.
"New identities for Monaco. Memorize them."
She took the passports, her fingers brushing mine briefly.
The contact sent electricity through me that I immediately shut down.
Not now. Not when I needed to stay focused.
She opened the first passport.
Her photo stared bac. I'd taken it from her file, digitally altered to look like a professional passport photo.
"Marie Laurent," she read aloud. "Thirty-two. Born in Lyon."
"You're an art consultant. We've been married for three years." I moved back to my packing, needing the distance. "Your French needs to be passable."
"It is passable." There was an edge to her voice now. "I lived in Paris for two years, remember?"
Of course I remembered. I'd been watching her the entire time.
"Good. Use it."
She opened the second passport, studying my altered photo.
"And you're...Jean Laurent. My husband."
"Yes."
"We're using the same last name as –" She stopped abruptly.
I turned to look at her.
Her face had gone pale and her eyes were wide.
"Laurent Moreau," she whispered. "That's Viktor's alias in Monaco, isn't it? Laurent."
She was too goddamn smart.
"It's a common French name," I said, but the lie sounded weak even to me.
"Bullshit." She threw the passports onto my bed. "You're using a variation of his fake name. That's not a coincidence."
"No. It's not."
"Why?"
"Because I want him to notice us." I turned back to my suitcase, folding another shirt with unnecessary precision. "I want him to see the name and wonder. To get curious enough to investigate."
"You're using me as bait again."
"I've always been using you as bait, Marlena. That's the entire point."
The words came out harsher than I'd intended.
When I glanced back, she'd wrapped her arms around herself and she looked hurt, which was surprising since she knew what this whole arrangement was already.
"Pack your things," I said, softer this time. "We leave Monday morning. Six AM."
She picked up the passports, studying them again with an expression I couldn't read.
"Marie Laurent," she repeated. "Art consultant. Married to Jean."
"Yes."
"And what happens when Viktor finds us?"
I didn't have an answer so I said nothing.
She laughed bitterly. "That's what I thought."
Then she left, taking the passports with her.
I stood alone in my room, staring at the half-packed suitcase, and felt something crack inside my chest.
After she was gone, I moved to the wall safe.
The painting swung aside – that fake Monet I'd hung specifically to hide what mattered.
The combination was muscle memory now.
Numbers that represented the date my mother died.
The safe opened with a soft click.
Inside were the files I'd moved from the forty-sixth floor. Elena's witness protection documents. The DNA results. The evidence of connections that went deeper than anyone knew.
But at the very back, wrapped in cloth, was something else.
I pulled it out carefully.
It was an old, faded photograph. The edges were worn from being handled too many times.
My mother smiled at me from the image.
She was young here – maybe thirty and she was beautiful in that effortless way that had nothing to do with money or makeup.
I was beside her. Fifteen years old, awkward in a suit I'd already outgrown, my arm around her shoulders.
It was the llast photo ever taken of us together, three weeks before she'd hung herself in our apartment, leaving that note blaming herself for everything.
I traced her face with my thumb, the gesture automatic after fifteen years.
"I'm almost finished," I whispered to the photograph as if she could hear me, as if saying it out loud would make it true.
"Viktor's in Monaco. I have his location. His alias. Everything I need." My voice cracked slightly. "I'm going to make him pay for what he did to you. To us. I promise."
The photo stared back silently.
Her smile was frozen. Her eyes were warm. So different from the hollow, guilt-ridden woman who'd written that suicide note.
Viktor had destroyed her.
"I won't fail you," I said to the photograph. "Not this time."
I wrapped it carefully in the cloth again, placing it back in the safe.
My hand hovered over the other files. Elena's documents. The proof that she was alive, that Viktor had kept her prisoner for years.
Should I tell Marlena?
The thought came unbidden, dangerous.
She deserved to know but telling her would complicate everything.
She'd want to save Elena. She would probably try to negotiate with Viktor and trade herself for her mother's freedom and I couldn't let that happen.
Especially not when I was this close.
Not when fifteen years of planning were finally coming together.
I closed the safe without touching those files.
I sat on the bed and rubbed my face as the realisation dawned on me that this trip to Monaco would change everything forever.