Page 50 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

“I now know what I didn’t know months ago in New York, Zervas. What I didn’t know twenty-four hours ago. Details you failed to tell me about Sandrine’s condition. You knew…” My jaw tightens, each word strained through clenched teeth. “You knew what happened to her, and you said nothing.”

Ares leans back, calculating his deceit and how to play his next move. “I saw the video. Saw the ring. But that was five years ago. I was protecting a fragile woman who’d been through an ordeal. We both know this world, Kirill. She is not up to becoming your wife. To being the queen of your brotherhood.”

I smile at the detail he missed. “You’re too late. You saw my proposal. You didn’t see that we were already married.”

Lourdes clutches her chest. “No. No, no. Please, I need to see her.”

I look at the woman who stood between me and Sandrine for years with disdain. Then I see someone else. The sister who sat at Sandrine’s bedside after a terrible accident while she rebuilt a life. Because I wasn’t there.

I also see Violet’s aunt. My daughter has my hair, but she has her mother’s eyes. Lourdes’s eyes.

“You will see your sister,” I tell her again, my tone firm but not unkind. “Today. But you are in my house. You follow my rules. I need to speak to your husband. Alone.”

“Wait outside, my love,” he tells her gently, murmuring something else low, something not meant for my ears.

“Come with me, Mrs. Zervas.” Ksenia walks to the door.

After a long, strained moment, Lourdes nods and leaves with my sister, closing the office door behind her. The tension in the room breaks a little the moment she’s gone.

“Their cousin,” I say to Ares before he can start yelling at me. “Elodie.”

His expression sharpens instantly. “What about her?”

“Nico Scava has her.” I twist my pen. “She was with Sandrine when I grabbed her. I let Elodie go, but Scava stormed my car. He took Elodie. Carried her off.”

The curse that escapes Ares’s mouth is low and vicious before he reins in his temper. “We haven’t heard from her,” he admits.

“Sandrine’s been asking about her,” I reply flatly. “I put a call into Scava. But he hasn’t responded.”

“I’ll do the same. He can’t fight us both.”

Both. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m aligned with the goddamn Greek Mafia.

After the moment I give him to get under control, I lean forward at my desk.

“I saw Sandrine’s medical records,” I say, my voice steadier now. “I know about the amnesia.”

“She thinks her name is Jessica,” Ares says, fury kicking back to the surface. “She’s been on a therapy plan for months to reintroduce⁠—”

“Too late.” I stir.

“You told her she’s not Jessica Parker?”

“Again, had I been briefed, had I been fucking warned, I would have considered all of this. I saw my wife who’d been missing. I took what was mine. When she started saying she didn’t know me and that her name was Jessica, I thought it was a trick.”

“How did she take it?” Ares grouses and runs a hand through his hair.

“She didn’t take it well at all, you fucker,” I bark, the ancient need to protect Sandrine rising in me. “She also knows you and your wife knew she belonged to me and didn’t tell her.”

Ares grips his chair. He and Lourdes rolled the dice and lost. “It doesn’t change that she is not up to being your wife. Let her go. I will see to her safety and her care. She won’t demand any kind of settlement.”

“I don’t want a divorce,” I scoff. “And I will take care of her. Because she’s my wife.”

“If that’s where this conversation is going, her sister needs to be part of this.” Ares stands up. “Lourdes has been in charge of her care for months.” He leaves and brings her back into the office, whispering the updates.

Lourdes leans on my desk and sniffs, “Please, Mr. Volkov. Let me take her back to Arizona. Maybe in a few months⁠—”

“No. I can’t let you take her away from me.”