Page 85 of His Stolen Bride

“I promised structure,” he says. “There’s a difference. Your father wanted freedom. Freedom is expensive.”

He leans forward. “Do you know why Vienna matters, Alina?”

I shake my head.

“Because it sits between worlds,” he says. “East and West. Old money and new violence. Bratva families hide here because everyone pretends not to see. It’s polite. It’s civilized. It’s a lie.”

He smiles again. “Your father traded in that lie. He offered women who could move through borders without raising alarms. Women who could sit at charity dinners and produce heirs with clean names. That was his real product.”

I swallow. The capsule presses back.

“You were his best,” Vladimir says. “Educated. Untouched. Beautiful in a way that reads as safe. Do you know how valuable that is?”

I do not answer.

He takes my silence as permission. “Sergei wanted you because he thought you’d calm him. He was wrong. Mikhail took you because he couldn’t afford not to. I wanted you because you fit.”

“Fit what?” I ask.

“My future,” he says simply.

He stands again and walks behind me. I feel his presence before I feel his hand, light on the back of my chair. He does not touch me. Not yet. “Your father owed me first,” he says. “Sergei was a delay. A mistake. I removed him.”

“You killed him,” I say.

“Yes,” he replies without pause. “Politics requires clarity.”

I turn my head slightly. “And my mother?”

He exhales. “Collateral. She would’ve complicated things.”

My vision narrows for half a second. I let my shoulders slump. I let my voice shake. “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” he says. “Fear keeps agreements clean.”

He moves back into my line of sight. “You see now why running was pointless.”

“I see,” I say quietly.

He studies me, pleased. “Good. Then we can discuss terms.”

“I’m here,” I say. “That’s the term.”

His smile widens. “Not quite.”

He pours himself another drink. “Owning you means legitimacy,” he says. “It means my enemies think twice before touching what looks respectable. It means heirs who can move freely. It means your son becomes irrelevant.”

My head snaps up despite myself.

He chuckles. “Relax. I won’t touch him yet. Children are leverage, not currency. You, on the other hand, are both.”

I force myself to breathe. “What happens to Mikhail?”

Vladimir shrugs. “He’ll fight. He’ll lose. Or he’ll retreat. Either way, he’ll be smaller.”

“You underestimate him,” I say.

“I know him,” Vladimir replies. “Men like him rely on loyalty. Loyalty cracks. Contracts don’t.”