Aiden turned to Silvana, who was watching with a soft smile. "And for you," he said, walking over to her and enveloping her in a warm hug. Silvana teased him, her eyes twinkling. "I hope you brought me cookies too, or I might just cry." Aiden laughed, pulling out a bag of freshly extracted fruit juices and some snacks. "I’ve got something even better." Silvana's smile widened as she took the bag. "Good for you," she said, playfully nudging him. "You know how to keep a girl happy." They all laughed together, the tension of the past few days momentarily forgotten. They headed inside, the mansion's grandeur welcoming them as they settled in for dinner. The dining room was warm and enchanting, with soft candlelight and the rich aroma of roasted vegetables and seasoned meats. The long, elegant table was adorned with their favorite dishes, carefully prepared to bring comfort. As they sat down, Zia’s face was alight with excitement. "Daddy, guess what happened at school today!" Zia's v

Silvana leaned in, her fingers trailing gently along his jaw. “I’ll miss you too. More than you know.” They stayed like that, bodies close, water cascading over them, hearts beating in sync. No words needed. Just presence. The next morning, the mansion buzzed with gentle activity. Zia tugged at Silvana’s suitcase, her little face pouty and confused. “Mommy, why do you have to go?” Silvana knelt, cupping her daughter’s cheeks. “Just for a short while, sweetheart. I need to take care of Grandpa Kohler. But I’ll call you every day, okay?” Zia nodded slowly, still not understanding the gravity but trusting her mother. Aiden stood by the door, arms crossed, eyes heavy with unsaid things. He helped Silvana load her bags into the car, and as the engine started, she leaned out the window. “I’ll be back soon,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on him. “Take care of her. And yourself.” Aiden kissed her hand, holding it a moment longer than necessary. “Always.” And then she was gone.

Harper leaned in, face inches from Bryden’s. “And when you fall, Romanov, you’ll be alone. Orlov won’t save you. Your father can’t save you. And Aiden?” He smirked. “He already knows you’re guilty.” Bryden’s composure cracked for just a second. But Harper saw it — and walked out without another word. --- Back at the Romanov Estate Aiden stood in the study, staring down at the black notebook he'd found in Bryden’s drawer. His phone vibrated. Harper’s message popped up: > “Blood match confirmed. He's ours.” Aiden took a deep breath, heart pounding. He turned to the Crescent Bay map sprawled on the table. Pins marked old warehouses, hidden trails, and a circled spot labeled “Operation Den”. Bryden was involved. Daniel was silenced. But was Orlov pulling the strings, or was Bryden setting a trap for everyone? Aiden didn’t know yet. But he would. And when the truth came out… Romanov blood might spill. The Romanov ancestral estate loomed with its gothic arches and austere ele

The night was thick with fog when Aiden Romanov arrived at the southern inlet of Crescent Bay—a remote harbor town known more for its silence than its scenery. From a distance, the marina looked abandoned, but Aiden knew better. He wore a plain black jacket, hood up, his face hidden beneath a cap. The sleek unmarked car he arrived in was parked off the gravel path, its engine off, keys in his pocket. He checked his watch—2:17 AM. The ocean breeze carried a scent of brine and oil, the docks creaking faintly under the strain of salt and wind. Aiden’s eyes scanned the shorelines. The encrypted tip Harper forwarded him had been traced to this location. A shipping container—red, faded, and unregistered—was said to hold the ledgers of Orlov’s financial empire, as well as video proof of collusion between Zain and Crescent Bay's local authorities. Aiden’s footsteps made no sound on the gravel, his boots silenced by years of tactical discipline. He reached the container yard—rows and rows of

The Romanov private estate in Westmoor was unusually quiet. The staff had been cut to minimal presence, and security patrols were doubled—not to protect Zain from the outside world, but to shield him from internal collapse. Inside his study, Zain Romanov stood by the wide window, watching the distant city skyline blink like a dying heartbeat. His sharp suit hung loosely on his shoulders tonight. His glass of brandy trembled faintly in his hand, though he’d never admit it. He had just finished the call that changed everything. Bryden’s container had been breached. Aiden had the files. Silvana was alive—and digging. And Harper had confirmed the blood at the murder site was his. The empire was collapsing, inch by inch. Zain turned from the window and tapped his encrypted burner phone. > Command: Vault Sigma Authorization Code: Red Monarch Seconds later, a secure line opened, and a voice—distorted, mechanical—answered: > “Route confirmation initiated. What’s your destination?”