Irina stood at the window of her childhood bedroom, with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching the city she thought she'd never return to. It felt like a punishment and she felt like a failure.
Her father hadn't said "welcome home." Instead, he'd given her a look of quiet disappointment and handed her a schedule of potential suitors. As if the only thing left to salvage was her name through marriage.
"Irina," he said from behind her now, "Vadim and his family will arrive for dinner. You will be polite and should always smile."
She turned slowly. "Vadim is twice my age papa, and he runs guns across borders. You want me to marry into that?"
"I want you to be safe," he snapped. "After the mess in America, you need protection. A husband provides that. Didn't you know the risks before you left and now you've returned with scandal chasing your heels."
"I didn't come back to be sold off like livestock."
"You came back with nothing," he replied coldly. "Let me fix that."
She said nothing, simply brushing past him and leaving the room before her fury boils over. It didn't matter what she said. He'd already made up his mind.
Downstairs, her mother and sister buzzed around the dining room, setting a table she wanted no part of. She slipped out the front door and into the quiet street, her scarf pulled tight around her face as the cold wind blow pass her hair. Moscow felt colder than it had ever been.
Two days passed.
Irina kept her distance, declining each matchmaking dinner, locking herself in her room under the guise of illness. But wasn't sick, her heart was and it was more than sick, it was shattered. She checked the tabloids in secret. May was everywhere and Liam… he was nowhere. He hadn't made a statement. He hadn't denied her identity, he'd simply vanished from public view.
Then, on the third morning, her phone rang.
Dmitri's voice answered with urgency at the other end. "You need to come back. Immediately."
"What?" Irina sat up straight in bed. "Why?"
"I've been digging into May's case. She's not who she says she is. Her real name is Marina Sokolov. She changed it five years ago."
Irina's blood ran cold. "That's a Russian name."
"Yes," Dmitri said. "And guess who her father is?"
When he told her, the room spun. A powerful oligarch with ties to her family's enemies, a man known for blackmail, silencing journalists, and laundering money through international charities. A man who had every reason to keep Liam close and every reason to destroy him.
"She's been playing him," Dmitri continued. "Feeding him poison wrapped in diamonds. And if Liam steps out of line, if he finds out who she really is.. he won't live to tell the story."
Irina's throat tightened. "Why would she out me at the press event?"
"To cut loose ends. If anyone connected the dots, your name, your resemblance to his ex, your brother's involvement… it would all lead to her. So she struck first."
Irina's hands trembled as she stood. "He's still with her?"
"Yes. And worse, I think he's being watched and maybe even CONTROLLED. Irina, he's not safe."
Her heart twisted painfully. After everything, Liam didn't want her but this wasn't about pride anymore.
"I'll be on the next flight," she whispered.
Dmitri exhaled in relief. "I'll send you details but be careful. This is bigger than both of us now."
As the call ended, Irina stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was longer now and her eyes harder. The girl who had run to LA in secret had returned bruised and now she was going back not as Samantha Ludona or a desperate assistant but as herself.
Irina Viktor.
And she was done running.