Page 23

I grip the USB so tightly that the edges press into my palm. My heart is still pounding from the escape, from the weight of what I’ve just done. But there’s no turning back now.

The car pulls up to the grand Spade estate, and I barely get a second to breathe before the front doors swing open. Two guards step forward, their expressions unreadable as they escort me from the car.

“Julie?” My father’s voice.

James Spade steps into the dim glow of the entrance, sharp eyes narrowing the second they land on me. Sophia follows a few paces behind, arms crossed, expression stoic.

I swallow, lifting my chin. “Hi, Dad. Miss me?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just looks me over like he’s assessing damage. His silence is more infuriating than anything else.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he finally says.

That’s it? Not where have you been? Not are you okay?

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Wow. Not even a glad you’re alive?”

Sophia steps forward, her gaze flicking over me carefully. “You took a big risk coming here.”

I meet her eyes. “I had to.”

She watches me, waiting for more.

Dad watches our exchange, jaw clenching. “Do you understand what you’ve just done?”

My grip on the USB in my pocket tightens. “No, you have no idea what you’ve done. You gave me to him. You let this happen. And now you’re acting like I’m the problem?”

Sophia sighs, rubbing her temple. “Come inside. We’ll talk.”

I hesitate only a second before stepping through the doors. The moment I do, I feel it—this house, this family, it doesn’t feel like home.

Maybe it never did.

Dad watches me with that same calculating look he always has, like I’m an asset to be measured.

“I assume you understand what happens next,” he says.

I cross my arms. “I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

Sophia leans against the table. “You’re sure you got everything?”

I nod. “Mikhail left his office unattended for a few minutes. I used what you taught me.”

Her lips curve slightly. “Maybe you’re more useful than I thought.”

James, however, doesn’t seem as amused. He steps forward, looming over me. “You’ve just declared war.”

I fight the shiver down my spine. “I did what I had to do,” I say, forcing strength into my voice.

Sophia and Dad exchange a look.

“He’ll come for you,” my father says finally. “When he does, it won’t be pretty.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“I know.”

I stand there, chest tight, as Sophia looks at me with something I can’t quite place. For the first time in my life, my sister—the cold, untouchable Sophia Spade—looks… proud.

“Sister… I am proud of you,” she says softly.

Then, to my shock, she pulls me into a hug.

I freeze for a moment, my mind struggling to catch up. We’ve never been close. Never shared the kind of bond sisters are supposed to. She was always the strong one, the untouchable one. And me? I was the afterthought, the shadow trailing behind.

Slowly, I lift my arms, hesitantly hugging her back. It doesn’t feel right, this isn’t what I came here for.

I step back, breaking the embrace. My hands tremble as I reach into my pocket, pulling out the USB. Sophia watches me expectantly, waiting for me to hand over the weapon she thinks I’ve stolen from Mikhail.

I place it in her palm.

She raises an eyebrow. “This is everything?”

I nod, but not in the way she’s expecting.

“It has all the pictures from my phone,” I say quietly. “Pictures I kept of you and us. Notes that I wrote for you and father but never gave you. My business idea that I wanted so badly but none of you ever paid attention to.”

Her fingers tighten around the device as I keep going.

“There are pictures from all my forgotten birthdays. Things I saved, things that mattered to me.” My voice shakes now, and I take a deep breath to steady it. “Take them. I will be leaving them behind now.”

Sophia blinks, caught off guard. “Julie, what—”

“I’m done,” I cut in, my throat aching. “I know what you really wanted from me. You didn’t come to save me. You didn’t even try. You came because you needed me. I was never your sister. I was just… convenient.”

Her brows draw together. “That’s not true.”

I let out a broken laugh. “Isn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer.

James watches this exchange with unreadable eyes, arms crossed. He hasn’t spoken since I gave Sophia the USB, but I can feel his judgment pressing down on me.

I shake my head, stepping back again.

“Just stop,” I whisper. My voice is thick, my throat closing up. I fight the tears burning at the corners of my eyes. “I’m not your pawn, Sophia. I was your sister.”

Sophia flinches, but she doesn’t deny it.

I turn away before they can see me break.

I take a step back, my heart pounding as their words echo in my ears.

“He will kill you,” Sophia’s voice is sharp, cutting through the thick air like a blade. My father stands beside her, arms crossed, his expression blank. Neither of them moves to stop me.

I glance at them one last time, memorizing their faces, burning this moment into my memory.

“Better than living here,” I murmur, my voice hoarse, before turning on my heel and walking away.

The second I step outside, the weight of everything crashes down on me. My breath catches, my chest tightening so hard it hurts. The cold night air burns against my skin, and I feel like I might throw up.

I press a shaking hand to my stomach, forcing myself to breathe. In. Out. One foot in front of the other.

I don’t have time to break down. I don’t have time to let the fear consume me.

Mikhail. The thought of him makes my stomach twist.

He’s going to be furious. No—furious doesn’t even begin to cover it. He’s going to hunt me down. He’s going to find me. Then… I don’t know. Maybe Sophia’s right. Maybe he’ll kill me for running. Maybe this is it.

My vision blurs for a second, but I push forward, my mind screaming at me to keep moving.

I reach the street and lift my hand, hailing the first taxi I see. The car slows, and I climb in, slamming the door shut behind me.

“Where to?” the driver asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

I part my lips, but no words come out. Where do I go? Back to Mikhail? To the man I just betrayed?

To the man whose wrath I know will be waiting for me? I close my eyes for a second, thinking. “I… just take me to a café,” I say finally, my voice steadier than I feel. “Anywhere quiet.”

The driver nods and pulls into the road.

I stare out the window, my hands trembling in my lap. Minutes pass in silence. I try to ignore the way my pulse is still erratic, the way my mind is spinning with every possibility.

The second the car stops, I push it all down. I step out, my movements stiff, and walk straight into the café.

The warm scent of coffee and fresh pastries surrounds me. The low hum of conversation buzzes in the air. It feels… normal.

I walk to the counter and order a coffee. My voice is even, my expression blank. I pretend like I belong here. Like I’m just another person in the crowd. Like I’m not running from a man who could destroy me.

The café hums with quiet life. Soft jazz plays over the speakers, blending into the gentle clatter of ceramic cups and the occasional hiss of steamed milk. People talk in hushed tones, wrapped up in conversations that don’t matter to me.

I curl my hands around the warmth of my coffee cup, letting the heat seep into my cold fingers. The rich scent of roasted beans fills my lungs with every breath, familiar and comforting.

I don’t feel comfortable. Not really.

Once upon a time, a place like this was my escape. I used to love cafés—used to spend hours in them with Elise, flipping through magazines, chatting about nothing, watching the world go by.

Now, I feel like a stranger in this world. Like I don’t belong, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I stare down into the dark liquid, watching the way the foam swirls with each small movement of my hands.

A couple sits a few tables away, their voices drifting toward me.

“I think I’m going to quit,” the woman says, pushing her spoon around in her half-eaten dessert. “I can’t take that office anymore. Every day feels like the same damn thing.”

“Seriously?” her friend asks, raising a brow. “You just got promoted.”

The woman sighs. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. I want more. I feel like I’m wasting time.”

I take a sip of my coffee, swallowing down the bitter taste. Wasting time. It feels ironic, hearing that now, I don’t even know what time means to me anymore.

Another table over, a group of college students laughs over something on one of their phones. Their easy smiles, their carefree energy—it’s like looking into a past life.

Once, I would have been like them. Now? I glance at the café window, at my own faint reflection staring back. My hair is a little messy, my face pale, shadows dark under my eyes. I don’t look like someone who belongs in this world anymore. I look like someone who has seen too much.

I finish the last sip of my coffee, setting the cup down with a soft clink .

Enough. Enough pretending.

I press my palms against my thighs, grounding myself before standing.

It’s time. I need to face him.

I step outside, the night air biting against my skin. The quiet of the café disappears, swallowed by the distant sounds of the city—cars passing, voices murmuring, the occasional honk of a horn.

I take a breath, steadying myself. The fear is still there, lurking beneath the surface, but I push it down. I’ve made my choice.

Now, I have to face the consequences.

I flag down a taxi, sliding into the backseat as soon as it stops.

“Where to?” the driver asks. It’s a different guy this time, older, with a bushy beard.

My fingers tighten in my lap.

The driver’s eyes flick up to the rearview mirror as he waits for an answer. My mouth feels dry, my heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to escape before I can go through with this.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Take me to the Sharov estate,” I say, my voice just steady enough to not betray the storm inside me.

He raises a brow slightly—maybe recognizing the name, maybe just surprised at my clipped tone—but he doesn’t ask questions. He nods, shifts the car into drive, and pulls away from the curb.

The ride is quiet. Too quiet.

I press my fingers into my thighs, grounding myself. The city passes in a blur of neon lights and dark alleys, but I barely see any of it. My mind is already at the estate. Already bracing for what’s waiting for me there.

When the car rolls to a stop outside the gates, I take a breath, shove my hand into my pocket, and pull out a wad of cash. I had to steal it from Mikhail, back before I left. I didn’t want to, but I hadn’t exactly had a choice.

I count out the fare, pressing the bills into the driver’s waiting hand.

“Keep the change,” I mutter before pushing open the door and stepping out.

The air is cold. The estate looms in front of me, dark and quiet, but the moment I step inside, chaos erupts.

The first person I see is one of the maids—a woman I recognize but don’t know by name. Her face pales the second her eyes land on me.

“Miss Julie—” she breathes, stepping back as if she’s seen a ghost.

Before she can say anything else, two guards appear from the hallway, moving fast. Their hands hover near their weapons, their bodies tense.

My pulse spikes, but I don’t flinch.

“Where the hell have you been?” One of them—Sergei, I think—demands, his voice sharp with panic. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

The other, Boris, glances toward the door like he expects Mikhail to storm through at any second. “Mikhail knows,” he mutters. “He knows you left. Do you know what that means for us?”

The weight of their words settles in my stomach like a stone.

Their jobs. Maybe even their lives.

Mikhail doesn’t take disobedience lightly.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. My voice is soft but firm, my hands clenched at my sides. “I had to do something. I’ll explain to Mikhail when he gets home.”

Sergei scoffs. “That’s not gonna be enough.”

Boris shifts his weight, clearly uneasy. “You can’t tell us anything now?”

I shake my head. “No, I swear I’ll tell him everything when he gets back.”

The three of them stare at me, uncertain. I stand my ground. I just hope I have the strength to follow through with my words when the time comes.