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Andrew watched Damian like a hunter watches a strong animal — patient, careful, waiting for the right moment.
He knew Damian was powerful. You don't beat someone like Damian by fighting him head-on. You find the one weak spot in his life and press.
He had been tracking Damian's moves for months: who he met, where he went, what small mistakes he made.
Then Andrew found Elena's name. She was a regular person in Damian's life — not a threat, but a crack in the armor.
If Damian cared about her, Andrew could use that to strike.
"Damian Volkov," Andrew muttered, tasting the name like something acidic. "Too whole. Too clean. That's the problem."
He replayed the face Damian made when he stepped into the light: precise, cold, a man who could break a dozen others with a look.
That look was the reason Andrew had never tried to meet him head-on.
Instead he kept cutting deals in the dark, buying loyalty, buying silence, buying people who could turn into small, sharp problems at the right time.
He had a file on Elena now, thick with dossier pages: He only needed two things: to make Damian react, and to make him react badly.
He poured himself another glass of cheap bourbon and walked through the rest of his nest — the rooms of old brick, cigarette-stained wallpaper, whiteboard maps full of pins and red string.
On one wall, a photograph of Damian was tacked next to a calendar where Andrew had marked a dozen small notches: compromises to be exacted, men to buy, investments to poison.
If you can't break a man, you bind what he loves.
That thought had been a seed. It grew into a plan.
***
The next day,
The butler had barely opened the front door before a loud voice rang through the foyer.
"Elena!"
Elena's head whipped around, and there she was—Tatiana, dragging a little suitcase behind her, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Without thinking, Elena ran across the marble floor and threw her arms around her, hugging her so tightly that Tatiana stumbled back with a laugh.
"I missed you so much," Elena whispered into her shoulder, refusing to let go.
Tatiana chuckled, squeezing her just as tightly.
"Missed me? You look like you were about to starve without me. What did Damian do, keep you locked in a tower again?"
Elena pulled back, rolling her eyes but smiling despite herself. "Don't start."
Tatiana grinned mischievously, brushing her hair back. "Okay, fine. No teasing for the first five minutes. But Elena—" she stepped back, placing her hands on her hips, "you look… different. Brighter.
Don't tell me you've actually been eating his expensive breakfasts instead of sulking in your room?"
Elena gave her a playful shove. "Oh, stop it."
They walked together into the sitting room, the morning light pouring through the tall windows.
Elena tugged Tatiana onto the couch, curling up beside her like a child refusing to let her sister out of sight again.
"Tell me everything," Elena demanded. "How was your trip? This boyfriend of yours—what's his name again?"
Tatiana laughed, leaning back dramatically.
"Luca. Italian. Ridiculously charming. And Elena, you should have seen the place he took me to in Santorini—the sea was so blue I thought it was painted.
He actually tried to cook for me—burnt half the kitchen, but it was adorable."
Elena burst into giggles, covering her mouth. "Oh my God, only you would think burnt food is adorable."
"Well, when the man is gorgeous and actually tries, what else can you do? And don't even get me started on the sunsets—"
Tatiana placed her hand on her chest dramatically, "—it felt like I was living inside a postcard."
Elena sighed softly, her smile faltering just a little. "I'm glad you had fun. You deserve it."
Tatiana's eyes softened immediately. She reached over, squeezing Elena's hand. "And now that I'm back, we'll make sure you have fun too. Enough hiding in this cold mansion. Oh!"
Her eyes lit up suddenly. "Grandfather is hosting his birthday party this weekend. You know what that means."
Elena tilted her head, unsure. "What does it mean?"
"Shopping." Tatiana smirked. "Lots and lots of shopping. You, me, and Aunt Irina.
We're going to find the most breathtaking dresses and make the entire room gasp when we walk in."
Elena leaned her head on Tatiana's shoulder, whispering, "I really missed you, Tia."
Tatiana smiled, wrapping an arm around her. "I know. But don't worry—I'm back now.
And this weekend? We're going to turn every head at that party. No one will be able to look away."
The two girls sat there, giggling, already tossing ideas about colors, shoes, and accessories—Tatiana chattering animatedly,
"Where's Damian?" Tatiana asked, casually fixing the strap of her bag.
"He went out," Elena said quickly, keeping her tone neutral.
Tatiana gave her a suspicious look. "I hope you've been avoiding him like I told you."
Elena froze for a second, then forced a small laugh. "Of course," she lied, eyes darting away.
Tatiana hummed, unconvinced, but didn't push.
Meanwhile, Elena's mind drifted — she thought about how close she and Damian had become. How he always checked on her. How his voice had started to calm her instead of scare her.
How her heart fluttered whenever he called her cupcake. It made no sense, and yet it felt so real.
Tatiana's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "We're going to Aunt Irina's place today," she said, pulling her hair into a ponytail.
Elena blinked. "I haven't seen Damian's mom in days," she murmured, remembering the woman's kind smile.
"Well, get ready," Tatiana said, already heading for the door.
"I can't," Elena said softly.
Tatiana turned, frowning. "What do you mean you can't?"
"I'm not allowed to leave the house without Damian's permission," Elena said, almost whispering.
Tatiana groaned loudly. "He's not your father, Elena! For God's sake, you're not a child."
Elena didn't reply. But there was no way she could make Tatiana understand that.She didn't want to ever get on Damian's angry side.
"Call him then!" Tatiana said, crossing her arms. "Let's see what your almighty Damian says."
Elena sighed and picked up her phone. Her heart beat faster as she scrolled to his contact.
She pressed call, and he answered almost instantly — his deep voice coming through, calm and low.
"Cupcake," he said, and even that single word made her chest warm.
"Um…" she started nervously, glancing at Tatiana who was rolling her eyes. "Tia and I wanted to go to your mom's place. Is that okay?"
From the background, Tatiana shouted loud enough for him to hear, "Tell him we won't break a rule, promise!"
Damian was silent for a moment. Elena could almost picture him — sitting in his office, running a hand through his hair as he thought.
Then his voice came, steady and protective.
"Fine," he said. "But go with the driver. Don't leave the house alone, Elena. You understand?"
"Yes," she said softly, unable to stop the small smile tugging at her lips.
"Good girl," he replied, and her stomach did a flip.
When the call ended, Tatiana raised a brow. "He actually said yes?"
Elena nodded, hiding the warmth that spread through her chest. Damian's voice still echoed in her mind — calm, commanding, and gentle all at once.
Tatiana scoffed. "I still don't get what's so special about him."
But Elena didn't reply. Because, truth be told, she didn't understand it either — she just knew that every time he spoke, it felt like her heart forgot how to behave.