A room in Viktor's estate was forbidden for her to enter.
Not because of secrecy or control.
But rather, out of memory.
It was his war room. The area in which he meticulously planned his strategies, manipulated, and concealed secrets beneath maps and files stained with blood.
Lila had no access.
Not until now.
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She did have the house to herself. Viktor was away again. This time to the south for his business. But, he claimed he didn't take her this time.
He hadn't in weeks.
And that silence, that sudden distance… it told her everything.
So Lila used this opportunity. She simply had to wait for the guards to complete their shift along with their specific schedule. Tatiana was asleep behind the door while Sofia was tending to her bruised ego.
And with that, she began to pick the lock, just as she was pursuing her future.
The war room was full of the overpowering scent of steel and paper.
Now aware of everything, she felt as if she was being enveloped by the spirit of every empire that Viktor had previously conquered.
She was an equal.
Or perhaps more.
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Every file was in Viktor's access.
Every dismissed threat, every single name and number was consistently trusted in all too easily alliances. Every single ally who trusted far too easily.
She decrypted Sergei's proposals—an alliance, a merger, a soft "The girl has potential you never tapped."
She uncovered Echo's last resting position.
And, something else.
Something Viktor had hidden from her.
Kazimir.
Not gone. Not dead.
A dated surveillance picture. No older than two weeks.
Lila stared until her blurry vision formed a sharp rage, crystallized fury.
So this is how he keeps me tame, she thought.
With silence.
With half-truths.
With silence.
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She didn't cry.
She didn't rage.
She moved.
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The Contact
Two hours later, in a warehouse off the docks, she met with a man whose name Viktor had blacked out in every file.
Mikhailov. Weapons broker. Arms to both sides of every war Viktor had ever tried to end.
Lila shook his hand like she was born to.
"I want a shipment rerouted," she said. "To my coordinates. Not Viktor's."
The man hesitated. "He'll know."
"Let him." Her eyes glittered. "I'm not hiding."
"He will. And I don't care." Her gaze sharpened. "I won't hide."
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She didn't stop there.
She went to the East Side crew. The one Viktor labeled "trust too wild a leash." She leashed them instead.
She pledged them something Viktor couldn't—autonomy. Respect.
And what did they give her?
Loyalty.
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By dawn, the first whispers had started to spread:
"She's moving shipments under his nose.""She offered command to the street crews.""She met with Sergei's man—didn't blink once."
And Viktor?
He still thought she was asleep in his bed.
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The Queen's Reflection
Back in the estate, Lila washed the dirt from her hands. The mirror steamed. Her reflection stared back—calm, composed, unapologetic.
Not a girl.
Not a victim.
Not his anymore.
She didn't hate Viktor.But she wouldn't be beneath him, either.
Not when she was built to stand beside kings.
Or burn them.