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I close my eyes and nod. “What time do I have to meet the general?” I ask, moving the conversation away from my grandfather.

“Whenever you’re finished stalking Eva.” She chuckles before the line goes dead.

I slide the phone into my pocket and give the driver the address.

The drive is short. The warehouse appears abandoned from the outside, but the guards stationed behind the broken crates refute that notion. They are also dressed in full Dragunov Guard uniform.

General Morozov greets me at the entrance. No salute. Just a nod.

“Hello, Ruslan.” He indicates that I should follow him. “She’s waiting for you.”

We descend a stairwell that smells of rust and sweat. A long corridor stretches ahead.

At the end is a steel door. Two guards open it at his signal.

Inside, a room with white walls, a desk, and one chair.

She’s sitting. Shackled. Pale. Her eyes are hollow but sharp. She looks up as I enter, and for a moment, she wears the same fucking expression she used to wear when she told me she loved me.

“Ruslan,” she breathes.

“Alisa.” Her name leaves my lips like a slap to her face.

She flinches, just slightly. Her eyes searched mine, narrow, accusingly. “You know.”

“I know everything.”

Her eyes shine with crocodile tears. “You have no idea what they forced me to do. Boris threatened to?—”

“Cut the bullshit, Alisa.” I shake my head, and my eyes bore into her. “You were married to Boris Mirochin. And from what I know, it wasn’t a forced marriage, and you enjoyed every sick, perverse thing he did to you.” My jaw clenches as my stomach churns. “You were never mine. Eva was never mine. You were trying to wipe out my family and then raise yours and that evil prick's daughter as my heir. The last in the line of the Dragunov family.”

That wipes the pity from her face.

“You fucking Dragunovs just wont die,” she sneers and I see the hate shining him her eyes.

“At least one good thing to come of you being in here is that your daughter has turned out to be a well-adjusted, decent human being,” I tell her. “She’s nothing like you or her ancient father.”

“How is she?” Alisa demands, eyes flashing. “Is Eva with him? Is she with her father? Did Boris take her?”

I shake my head. “No. He didn’t even come forward to claim her. She was adopted,” I lie. I’m not going to tell her that her mother, who thinks Alisa is dead and, from what I can gather, is relieved she is, has her. “Like I said, Eva is safe. Happy. Brilliant. She's nothing like you.”

Her jaw tenses. “Where is her father?”

There it is—the mask drops. The venom seeps through.

“You played the perfect role,” I say. “The loving partner. Devoted mother. And all the while, you were just a pawn.”

She laughs bitterly. “I was never a pawn. I am a queen. Boris's queen.”

“No, Alisa. You were disposable. You think he loved you? The moment you were arrested, he filed for divorce. Got it finalized in two weeks.”

“Liar.”

I give a soft laugh. “Then how come you don’t even know that Boris died three years ago of old age. And he left you nothing. None of his true heirs even know about you or Eva.”

She blinks. Fast. Disbelief cracking into rage. “You’re lying. He loved me.”

“Call his attorney if you don’t believe me,” I say. “You were just another young wet pussy he could control by offering you the world and when he was finished with you, you'd just have ended up like his other wives and lovers. A body washed up on shoresomewhere. So maybe you got off lucky being arrested and left to rot him here for the past fourteen years—forgotten.”