The next morning broke with dull gray light filtering through snow-laced windows.
Larissa woke with Lukyan beside her—not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of his presence. It was the first time in eight years she hadn't woken up alone in that bed.
She turned slightly, studying the sharp lines of his face softened in sleep.
There was no denying it anymore. Something between them had shifted. And worse—something outside them was closing in.
She got out of bed quietly, padded toward the window, and pulled the curtain back.
A woman stood at the gates.
She was dressed in red.
Not the blood red of fire, but a deep, wine-stained crimson that shimmered against the snow.
Larissa's heart jolted. She didn't recognize the figure, but something about her felt… wrong.
And then Lukyan stirred behind her.
He sat up instantly when he saw her frozen at the window. "What is it?"
"There's someone at the gate."
Lukyan was on his feet in seconds, striding over to look.
His entire body went rigid.
Larissa turned to him. "Do you know her?"
He didn't answer.
He just whispered, "She shouldn't be here."
They met the woman outside ten minutes later.
She hadn't moved.
"Lukyan Volkov," she said with a soft smile. Her voice was lilting, melodic, with something sharp beneath it.
"I thought you were dead," Lukyan said flatly.
"That's what you told yourself, wasn't it? That you buried me with the others?"
Larissa stepped forward, protective instincts flaring. "Who are you?"
The woman's gaze flicked over her slowly.
"I'm the beginning," she said. "The reason he stopped believing in love."
Lukyan's fists clenched. "Don't do this, Elena."
Larissa's stomach dropped.
Elena.
His first fiancée. The one who'd supposedly died in the fire.
"You lied," Larissa said quietly when they were alone inside.
"I didn't know she survived," Lukyan said. He looked shaken. Not afraid—haunted. "They said no one else made it out. I didn't even see her body."
Larissa folded her arms. "But she's here now. What does she want?"
"I don't know."
But Larissa could guess.
This wasn't just a ghost from Lukyan's past. Elena had come with purpose. With control.
She wasn't here to forgive.
She was here to reclaim.
Later that night, Larissa found a note slipped under her office door.
It wasn't signed.
"Do you really think he's changed?"
She crumpled it in her fist, but the message lingered.
Doubt was a quiet poison.
And Elena knew exactly how to use it.