The morning after Elena's arrival settled like fog over the Volkov estate.
Even the staff walked softer, casting furtive glances over their shoulders as they moved through the halls. Larissa felt it too—that itch at the base of her skull, like something was watching, listening, waiting.
She wasn't a woman who spooked easily.
But something about Elena felt unnatural.
Larissa stood outside Lukyan's private office, her hand poised mid-knock.
She hadn't been in there in years. It was a sacred space—his sanctuary, his war room, his escape. He'd once told her it was the only room where he could breathe.
Now she wondered what secrets were suffocating in there.
She knocked once, firmly.
"Come in," his voice called.
She stepped inside. The room was dark-paneled, lined with antique books and thick drapes that kept out most of the morning light. Lukyan was behind the desk, sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, eyes bloodshot.
"You didn't sleep," she said.
He didn't deny it.
"I need you to be honest with me, Lukyan."
He looked up slowly.
"About what?"
"About her. About what happened that night."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he stood, walked to the fireplace, and stared into the cold ashes.
"I was twenty-five. I thought I was invincible. In love with a woman who lit matches just to watch things burn."
"Elena?"
He nodded.
"She was beautiful. Brilliant. But broken in ways I didn't understand. She liked power. Control. And she knew how to manipulate both."
Larissa stepped closer, her voice soft. "What happened in that fire?"
Lukyan's jaw tightened. "We were arguing. She found out I was planning to end the engagement. That I'd discovered she was… unwell."
Larissa frowned. "Unwell?"
"Obsessive. Violent, even. I tried to get her help. She said if she couldn't have me, no one could."
His voice turned hollow.
"She set the fire herself."
Larissa's breath caught.
"You told everyone she died."
"I thought she did. I barely made it out alive. The building collapsed. They only recovered three bodies—none of them hers. But I accepted it. I needed to believe she was gone."
"And now she's back."
"Yes."
He turned to face her, and for once, the mask he always wore was gone.
"I'm scared, Larissa. Not for me—for you. For the kids. She's not here by accident."
Larissa nodded slowly. "Then we stop pretending. If she wants war, we prepare for it."
Lukyan stared at her—really stared—like seeing her for the first time.
"You're not who you were eight years ago."
"No," she agreed. "Neither are you."
Later that day, Larissa wandered into the west wing of the house, a part rarely used since the renovations. She needed space to think—and privacy.
But as she passed the old music room, a sound stopped her cold.
A piano.
Playing itself.
No… being played.
She stepped closer, heart thudding.
The door was ajar. Through the crack, she saw Elena—seated at the grand piano, her fingers gliding effortlessly across the keys.
The melody was haunting. Familiar. One Larissa had heard Lukyan hum in his sleep once.
She stepped into the room. "You've made yourself at home."
Elena didn't turn. "Isn't that what ghosts do? Haunt old places?"
"What do you want, Elena?"
Finally, she turned. Her eyes glinted with something sharp.
"I want the truth to come out. About Lukyan. About you."
"There is no truth you can weaponize against me."
"Oh, sweet Larissa." Elena stood. "Everyone has something to hide. Even you."
That night, Larissa couldn't sleep.
She paced her office, rereading case files, trying to distract herself.
But a flash drive on her desk caught her eye.
It hadn't been there earlier.
She plugged it in.
One video file.
She hit play.
A grainy security cam recording flickered to life—dated seven years ago.
Larissa's breath caught as she saw herself. In a courtroom. Talking to a man she barely remembered.
The man was later arrested for corporate fraud.
She had defended him—won his case.
And now, here was proof he had bribed a judge.
Something no one had ever discovered.
Until now.
The screen cut to black.
Then a message appeared.
"I wonder how Lukyan would feel if he knew the truth about his perfect wife."