Chapter 145 Anya
The masked man stood at the foot of my bed. His distorted voice echoed in the quiet room.
"What could you possibly need from me? I have nothing. I am no one."
The man laughed, hollow through the voice distortion. "That is what you believe. That is what you have always believed. But it is a lie."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your past, Anya. Your childhood. Everything you think you know about where you came from is a lie."
"My parents died when I was young. I grew up in foster care. I had nothing. I was nothing. There is no lie."
"Your mother died, yes. But your father did not."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
The masked man walked around the bed and sat in a chair beside me. Even sitting, he radiated power and control. "Your father is very much alive. And he is very, very wealthy."
"You are lying."
"Then explain this." He pulled out a thick, heavy folder and opened it. He handed me a photograph. A man in his late sixties with gray hair and an expensive suit stood in front of a massive estate. Behind him were other people. A woman. Three men. All dressed in designer clothes. All looking like they belonged in a magazine.
"Who is this?"
"Your father. Dmitri Volkov."
I dropped the photograph like it burned me. "No. No, that is impossible. Alexei Volkov was..."
"Not related to your father. A coincidence of names. Nothing more."
I stared at him. My heart pounded. "You are insane. My father was not... I was not..."
"You were born Anya Volkova. Daughter of Dmitri Volkov and Elena Petrova. Your mother was not married to your father. She was his mistress. His secret. When she became pregnant, your grandfather refused to acknowledge you. Said you were a bastard. A stain on the family name. Your father gave you up to protect his inheritance. Your mother died giving birth to you. You were placed in foster care and given a new name. And no one told you the truth."
"This cannot be real."
"It is real. I have the documents. Birth certificates. Hospital records. DNA tests. All of it proves you are Dmitri Volkov's daughter."
I looked at the photograph again. At the man who was supposedly my father. I searched his face for something familiar. Some resemblance. Some connection. But I felt nothing. Just emptiness.
"Why are you telling me this? Why now?"
"Because your grandfather is dying. And before he dies, he wants to see all his children. All his grandchildren. Including the ones he rejected. Including you."
"I do not want to see him. I do not want anything from him."
"That is not your choice to make. Your grandfather has made it a condition of the inheritance. All of Dmitri's children must be present at the reading of the will. If even one is missing, the entire fortune goes to charity. Dmitri loses everything. His siblings lose everything. The family loses everything."
"So this is about money. You want me to play happy family for an inheritance."
"We want you to claim what is rightfully yours. Billions. With a b. Your share alone would be enough to never worry about money again. Enough to live anywhere and do anything."
"I do not care about money."
"Then do it for revenge. Your grandfather rejected you. Your father abandoned you. Your entire family pretended you did not exist. This is your chance to look them in the eye. To show them what they lost. To make them regret every decision they made."
I looked at the mask hiding his face. "Who are you? How do you fit into all of this?"
The man was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached up and removed the mask.
I gasped. The face beneath was familiar. Not because I had seen it before but because I had seen pieces of it in my own mirror. The same nose. The same eyes. The same shape of the jaw. He looked like me. Or I looked like him.
"My name is Alexander Volkov. I am your brother. Your older brother. Same father. Different mother. I have been looking for you for two years."
I could not speak. Could not breathe. Could not think.
"I know this is a lot to process. I know you need time. But time is something we do not have. Our grandfather has weeks left. Maybe days. We need to go to him. We need to be there when he dies. Or everything falls apart."
"Why should I believe you? Why should I trust anything you say?"
"Because I saved your life. I found you in that forest. Dying. Alone. I could have left you there. Could have let you die. But I did not. Because you are family. Because you are my sister. Because I have been searching for you since I learned you existed."
"How did you even find me?"
"I have resources and connections. I have been tracking Nikolai Markov for months. Watching him. Learning his patterns. When the estate was attacked and you disappeared, I had men searching the surrounding areas. They found you just in time."
"And you brought me here like a prisoner."
"I brought you here to heal and recover. The locked door is for your safety. There are people who would hurt you if they knew who you were. What you are worth."
"Like Nikolai?"
Alexander's expression darkened. "Nikolai Markov is dangerous. He has killed dozens of people and destroyed lives. He built an empire on blood and terror. You deserve better than him."
"He is my husband."
"He is a criminal. And when our grandfather dies and you inherit your fortune, do you really think he will let you keep it? Do you think he will let you walk away? Or will he take it all for himself?"
I wanted to argue. Wanted to defend Nikolai. But I could not. Because Alexander was right. Nikolai had made violent choices. And money corrupted people. Would Nikolai let me keep billions of dollars? Or would he see it as something to control? I did not know. And not knowing scared me.
"I need time to think."
"You have one day. Tomorrow we leave for the estate. Tomorrow you meet your father and your siblings and your family. And tomorrow you decide if you want to claim your birthright or walk away from it forever."
"And if I walk away?"
"Then I will take you back to Moscow and return you to Nikolai. I will never contact you again. You will go back to being Anya Markov, wife of a gangster, living in fear, running from enemies, wondering when the next bullet will find you."
He stood up and put the mask back on. "But I hope you do not walk away. I hope you see this for what it is. A chance. A gift. A future that could be so much more than what you have now."
He walked to the door and stopped. "Rest. Eat. Think. Tomorrow, give me your answer."
He left. The door closed. The lock clicked.
I sat in the bed surrounded by luxury and lies. Was it true? Was I really the daughter of a billionaire? Or was this another trick? Another prison? Another man trying to use me for his own purposes? I did not know anything anymore.
I lay back down and closed my eyes. I thought about Nikolai. The man I loved. The man I married. The man who had burned cities to find me. Did he know where I was? Was he looking for me? Did he even know I was alive? And when he found out about the money and the inheritance and who I really was, would he still love me? Or would he see me as something to own and control and use?
The door opened again. A maid entered with dinner. She set the tray down without speaking and left. I noticed something beneath the plate. A piece of paper folded small. Hidden.
I waited until the door closed. Then I grabbed it and unfolded it.
Written in shaky handwriting was a message.
"Your brother is lying. Your grandfather is already dead. This is a trap. Run.”