Chapter 31 Marlena
The private jet was smaller than I expected.
It had all cream leather seats and polished wood, with windows that showed nothing but endless blue sky.
Nikolai sat at the front with his laptop open, working like this was just another business trip.
Like we weren't flying to Monaco to hunt down my father.
I sat at the back, as far from him as the cabin allowed.
Six hours of flight time stretched ahead of us like a prison sentence.
I pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching New York disappear beneath clouds.
Somewhere down there, Luka was getting better, recovering in that Swiss facility, completely unaware that his sister was flying into a trap.
My phone sat in my lap, powered off. Useless at thirty thousand feet anyway.
The flight attendant offered me champagne twice but refused both times.
I needed to stay sharp, clear-headed. I couldn't afford to make anymore mistakes.
Nikolai's voice cut through the engine noise. "You should eat something."
I didn't turn around. "I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten since yesterday."
"I said I'm not hungry."
Silence followed after that.
I could feel his eyes on me, burning into the back of my head, but I refused to look at him.
Let him stare. Let him wonder what I was thinking.
He didn't own my thoughts. Well, at least not yet.
An hour passed. Then two.
The attendant brought food anyway – some kind of gourmet meal that probably cost more than most people's weekly groceries.
I picked at it mechanically, forcing down enough to keep my strength up.
Nikolai worked the entire time, his fingers moving across the keyboard with steady precision.
What was he working on? More plans? More strategies for using me?
I wanted to throw something at him. My plate. My glass. Myself.
Instead, I pulled out the passport he'd given me.
Marie Laurent. Thirty-two. Born in Lyon.
The photo looked like me but also didn't.
Something about the eyes was different, harder or maybe that was just what I looked like now.
I studied the forged stamps, the entry and exit records for countries I'd never visited. Someone had built an entire life for Marie Laurent, complete with travel history and background.
The same way Nikolai had built a trap around Marlena Rousseau.
My fingers traced the embossed cover, and I wondered if this was what freedom looked like – becoming someone else entirely, leaving your old name behind like dead skin.
"We land in twenty minutes," Nikolai said, his voice closer than before.
I looked up. He'd moved to the seat across the aisle, watching me with those unreadable grey eyes.
"You should know what to expect," he continued. "The hotel staff will treat us like any other wealthy couple. No one can know our real identities."
"I know how aliases work, Nikolai. I lived under one for two years."
"This is different."
"How?"
"Because if anyone discovers who we really are, we're both dead."
The words should have scared me. Maybe they would have, a month ago but now they just felt like confirmation of what I already knew.
I was walking into hell, and Nikolai was my guide.
"I'll play my part," I said. "That's what you bought me for, isn't it?"
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The plane began its descent, and my ears popped as we dropped through clouds.
Monaco appeared below us – a jewel on the Mediterranean coast, all white buildings and blue water and luxury that made New York look modest.
We landed smoothly, taxiing to a private terminal where no customs officials waited to check our documents.
Money bought privacy. Nikolai had plenty of both.
A black car was waiting, sleek and expensive, with a driver who didn't speak as he loaded our luggage.
Nikolai held the door open for me, playing the perfect gentleman.
I slid inside without thanking him.
The drive to the hotel took fifteen minutes through winding streets lined with palm trees and designer boutiques.
Everything here screamed wealth, old money, the kind of place where people like Viktor could hide in plain sight.
The hotel was massive, all white stone and gold accents, overlooking the sea.
Our suite was on the top floor.
The bellhop opened the door, revealing a space larger than my old Brooklyn apartment.
There were floor to ceiling windows. The floor was marble. The furniture looked like it belonged in a museum.
And there was only one bed.
Of course.
Perfect couple, after all.
Nikolai tipped the bellhop generously, and we were alone.
I moved immediately to the balcony, needing air, needing space, needing anything that wasn't him.
The doors opened with a soft click, and warm Mediterranean wind hit my face.
The sea stretched endlessly before me, so blue it hurt to look at. Sailboats dotted the horizon. The sun was starting its descent, painting everything gold.
For just one second, I forgot about everything. But my day dream didn't last long.
I forgot about the contract and the lies. I forgot about being bait and Viktor and revenge.
I just breathed in salt air and felt the warmth on my skin and let myself exist without the weight of everything crushing down.
One second of peace.
Then I felt him.
Nikolai's hands settled on my shoulders, light but possessive.
I went rigid, every muscle in my body tensing.
"We play perfect couple starting tomorrow," he whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my neck.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
His hands stayed on my shoulders a moment longer, then dropped away.
I heard him move back inside, heard the bedroom door close.
I was alone again.
I gripped the balcony railing, my knuckles white.
Tomorrow, we'd start performing. We’d laying our roles. He'd be dangling me in front of Viktor like bait on a hook.
But I had my own plan now.
I would find Viktor first. Before Nikolai could use me. Before this trap could spring.
I would find my father, and I would kill him myself.
Not for Nikolai's revenge or some fifteen-year-old vendetta I didn't understand.
This was for me and my mother. For every lie and abandonment and year of suffering he'd caused.
I would take that power back. I would stop being a piece on someone else's board.
The sun sank lower, turning the sea from blue to orange to gold.
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of flowers and expensive perfume from somewhere below.
I stood there, watching the light change, feeling something shift inside my chest.
Determination.
I had survived my mother's death and Luka's illness. I had survived Paris and forgery and Nikol
ai's blackmail.
I would survive this too.
And when it was over, when Viktor was dead and Nikolai's revenge was complete, I would walk away from all of it, free.