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Mikhail regards me with something almost like pride. “You were special cases. My own blood. I had different plans for you.”

“Which were?”

“To use you as I was used.” He shrugs, as if discussing a business transaction rather than human lives. “Your father's empire has grown too powerful. Victor Petrov's influence is too vast. I needed leverage against both.”

He steps closer, and it takes everything in me not to recoil. “You were to be my crowning achievement, the granddaughter who would dismantle both dynasties from within.”

“And Luca?”

“Insurance.”

“But you sold me? If you needed me that badly, why did you let me go?”

A cruel smile twists Mikhail's lips. “I never truly let you go, Vesper. I merely...repositioned you.”

“What does that mean?” I demand, my stomach clenching.

“What better vengeance than watching my own granddaughter dismantle the Petrovs from the inside out? It’s revenge served exactly how I wanted it. All it took was the right buyer…or should I say, buyers.”

A chill runs through me. “You knew who was buying me.”

“Of course I did.” His smile is cold, calculated. “The Second Sons. A collection of cast-offs and spares, building their own power base in opposition to Victor Petrov. The four individuals who tried to keep you from your destiny.”

“You planned this,” I gasp. The realization dawning with horrifying clarity. “You arranged my sale to the Second Sons knowing they'd protect me from Victor.”

“I arranged everything,” Mikhail confirms, setting his glass down on my father's desk with deliberate precision.

“But why?” I demand, struggling to keep my voice steady as rage and horror war within me. “Why this elaborate game?”

“Because the best revenge is the one where your enemies destroy themselves.”

My hands tremble with horror, with the sickening realization that my entire life has been orchestrated by the man standing before me.

“And what about Luca?” I demand, forcing strength into my voice. “What role does my brother play in your grand revenge fantasy?"

“As I told you, granddaughter, he’s my insurance policy.”

“He's a human being.”

“He's a Vasilyev,” Mikhail corrects. “As are you. Despite your father's surname, the blood that flows through your veins is mine. Royal blood. Blood that belongs on the throne of Russia.”

“What exactly are you proposing?”

Mikhail steps closer, his expression shifting into something almost paternal. “A simple exchange. Your brother's freedom...for your cooperation.”

“My cooperation in what?”

“Reclaiming what's rightfully mine.” He gestures expansively. “The Petrov empire. The Russian throne. It's your birthright, Vesper. Your destiny.”

I stare at him, momentarily speechless. “You want me to...what? Stage a coup against Victor Petrov?”

“Exactly.”

“You're insane,” I spit, but the words lack conviction as my mind races through the implications. “Victor Petrov has an army, billions in resources, and decades of entrenched power. I can't just walk in and take the throne.”

“Not alone, no,” Mikhail concedes, circling me like a predator. “But you won't be alone. You'll have me, my resources, my connections. And most importantly—" a malicious smile forms on his face, "—your son, and my heir to both families.”

“You can’t have him,” I snarl.