Zoya felt it before she saw it.
A ripple in the atmosphere. A shift so subtle that most wouldn't notice-but she did.
The press interaction had been smooth so far, cameras flashing as Kalix stood by her side, his hand resting on her waist. He radiated calm authority, the perfect image of the powerful businessman.
But her instincts screamed.
A flicker of moment. The flash of metal.
And then-
The man moved forward, his target clear.
Kalix.
Before anyone could notice, Zoya moved.
Her body acted on instinct. She twisted out of Kalix's grasp, pushing him back, intercepting the attacker's wrist mid-swing. The knife was dangerously close-too close-but she didn't flinch.
A sharp twist. The satisfying crack of the bone. The blade clattered to the floor. Gasps echoed through the crowd, cameras catching the blur of the moments.
The attacker staggered, but she didn't stop. Using her own force against him, she slammed him against the ground, pinning him with brutal efficiency. Her knee dug into his back, her hand locking his twisted arms in place.
"You think you can touch my family and walk away?" her voice was low, venomous.
The man writhed beneath her, but it was futile.
Kalix was at her sight in an instant. His hands found her-one gripping her arm, the other at her waist. The touch wasn't rough. It was steady. Fearful.
"Zoya," he said, his voice a tight rasp. "Let go. He's not going anywhere."
Security had already arrived, pinning the attacker to the ground. The man's face was pressed into the pavement, his twisted arm held firmly in the guard's grip. Another swiftly confiscated the weapon.
Zoya held on her breath, her pulse roaring her ears.
Kalix didn't wait. He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him. His heart pounded beneath her cheek, his hands urgently roaming her back-checking, searching for any signs of injury.
"Are you hurt?" his voice cracked. "Zoya nodded, "I'm fine."
Before either of them could say more, Viktor pushed through guards, his face pale.
"Sista! His voice cracked, and without hesitation he hugged her tightly. No words, no questions-just the fierce need to feel she was safe.
Volkov guards formed a protective barrier, blocking the crowd
"We're leaving," Kalix's voice low, but the command was clear.
Kalix's hand remained on her waist, Viktor's on her shoulder, both steadying her as if the weight of their presence could shield her from the world.
With the guards leading the way, they moved swiftly.
The commotion around them grew louder. "Cameras flashed, reporters shouted:
"Mr. Volkov, was that an assassination attempt?"
"Mrs. Volkov, how did you react so quickly?"
"Is this connected to the Volkov family's rivals?"
but no one paid attention."
The black car waited. The door was pulled open without a word. Kalix guided Zoya inside, his arm lingering protectively around her waist until she settled in the backseat, Viktor moved to the front passenger seat, his tense posture visible from behind.
As the doors shut, the world outside disappeared, but the weight of what had just happened lingered heavily in the air.
The car sped through the city.
Kalix's hand remained on Zoya's, his thumb absently brushing over her skin. Viktor sat in the front passenger seat, his eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, his jaw clenched tight.
The silence didn't last long.
"Are you okay?" Kalix's voice low, rough with concern. His eyes, dark and searching, refused to leave her face.
She nodded, "I'm fine."
"Fine?" Viktor's voice was sharp, his head snapping toward her. "You slammed a man to the ground, Sisterrr. He had a knife!"
"But I handled it," she responded.
"Handled it?" Kalix's grip on her hand tightened. "He could've hurt you. What if something had gone wrong?"
"It didn't she shot back, her frustration bubbling.
"That's not the point! Viktor nearly growled. "You shouldn't have put yourself in danger like that. What were you thinking?" "I was thinking about not letting him stab your brother!" her voice rose, her gaze flicking between them. "What did you expect me to do? Stand and watch?"
"You could've been hurt," Kalix said, his voice low, but the anger behind it was unmistakable. "I can't-" He exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. "I can't risk loosing you."
She sat up straighter, her frustration snapping.
"Hello!" she waved her hands dramatically, glaring at both of them. "Both of you, look at me!"
Kalix's brows furrowed, and Viktor reluctantly turned in his seat.
"I'm totally fine," she stated firmly. "Not even a scratch. Injury? Left a part. Now look at him-" She pointed at Kalix. 'Totally fine. And him?" She gestured toward Viktor. "Completely fine. We are all fine, so stop making fuss!"
Neither man responded. Kalix's jaw still tight, and Viktor's scowl deepened.
"And now," she continued, exasperation dripping from her voice, "rather than worrying about me, maybe focus on something that actually matters-like getting the truth out of the attacker." Before she could say another word, Kalix moved.
Without hesitation, he covered her mouth with his hand, silencing her mid-rant. Her eyes widened in shock, but before she could pull away his arm wrapped around her, pulling her firmly against his chest.
"Enough," he murmured, his voice low but filled with warmth.
She stiffened, caught off guard. She tried to pull away, but the grip didn't loosen. If anything, his arm around her grew firmer.
Viktor, who had been silently watching from the front seat, scoffed. "Now that's better." His usual humor started to return, though the concern hadn't entirely faded. With a shake of his head, he reached for his phone. I'll handle the mess outside. You two... carry on." without thinking, Kalix pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The gesture was instinctive- a silent reassurance.
She glanced at him half-heartedly, nut he remained unmoved. Eventually she gave up, letting herself rest against him.
She shifted slightly, her gaze drifting to her purse. He noticed the movement, his brows knitting together.
"What are you doing?" "It's a long drive back," she murmured, reaching for her phone. "I need a distraction." he said nothing, but his eyes stayed on her as she unlocked her phone. A call flashed across it. Grace.
Her heart tightened. Without a second thought, she declined the call. A moment later, she blocked the number. Kalix said nothing, though his jaw ticked as he caught sight of the name. But as she scrolled past it, he relaxed.
She switched to social media, absentmindedly scrolling. Kalix kept watch-his gaze flicking between her phone and the city rushing past. For a while car was silent. As she scrolled, a video of her and Kalix at the grocery store appeared. The comments were buzzing.
She scoffed. "Seriously?" Do they have nothing better to do?"
Kalix looked at her and her phone then, smirked.
She rolled her eyes and kept scrolling. But then, a video of shirtless men flashed on the screen-toned, sweaty, and performing push-ups for the camera.
Before she could react, Kalix's hand shot out, covering her eyes.
"Hey! She protested.
"Enough screen time," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
She tied to move his hand away, but he was faster. Snatching the phone from her grasp, he locked it and slid it into his pocket.
"You-" she huffed.
As they reached the Volkov mansion, Viktor climbed out first, his phone already pressed to his ear, voice low and commanding. Tension in Kalix's shoulders was evident. His hand lingered on Zoya's waist, a silent reassurance-or maybe a reminder that she was still here, still safe.
But she barely noticed. The moment she stepped inside, her phone buzzed relentlessly. News alert flashed on her screen.
"Fall of Sebastian Heights- Stock Collapse After CEO Scandal"
"Mass Layoffs Announced as Shares Plunge"
Her brows furrowed. She turned sharply, her voice cutting through the suffocating silence.
"Kalix." She didn't raise her voice, but the weight in it was impossible to miss. "What happened to Sebastian Heights?" He didn't answer right away. Instead, he shrugged off his jacket, his movements slow and deliberate. "They got what was coming to them." Her stomach twisted. "What did you do?"
He met her gaze, his expressions unreadable. "I handled it." Zoya took a step closer. "And what does that mean?"
"It means they paid for what they did." His voice was low, dangerously calm. "No one touches what's mine and walks away from it."
Her heart pounded. "Kalix, people lost their jobs. Not just Boris. Thousands of employees-people who had nothing to do with that."
"They worked for him. They knew what he was." He responded.
"They didn't have a choice!" her voice cracked, frustration bubbling over. "Not everyone has the luxury of walking away. Some people need their jobs to survive."
"And I needed to make sure they understood." His jaw clenched. "No one threatens my wife without consequences."
Her breath caught. "This wasn't about protecting me, was it?" she shook her head, her voice trembling. "This was about power. About proving a point."
"I did what I had to do."
"You did what you wanted to do." The accusation sliced through the air. "And now, families will suffer. People who were already struggling will lose everything. Is that how you justify it? By calling it protection?"
Kalix's expression darkened. "You're standing here alive and untouched because of the choices I made. I don't regret it."
"That's the problem." Her eyes burned, fury and disbelief swirling together. "You never regret it."
The silence between them thickened, like a storm building with no release. Even Viktor, who had return to the room, chose to remain silent. His gaze flicked between them, but he knew better than to interfere.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "You think this makes you strong, Kalix? Destroying lives without thinking twice?"
"I think it makes me someone people don't dare cross." "And what about the people who had nothing to do with this?" her voice trembled. "The one who lost their jobs, their stability- just because you decided to make a point?" his face stiffened. But the guilt was there, lurking beneath the hardened exterior. Her words hit deeper than he'd like to admit.
"You're not seeing the whole picture," he said, his tone low.
"Then show me!" her voice cracked.
"Because all I see is the damage left behind. And for what? To feel powerful?" he clenched his jaw, the muscles ticking as he fought the emotions rising within him. The weight of her accusation twisted something inside him, forcing him to face what he had done.
Before he could say another word, she turned.
"Enjoy your victory," she muttered, her voice hollow.
And with that, she walked away, leaving him alone with the bitter taste of regret.
NEXT MORNING
The sun had long risen, casting soft light over the Vokov mansion. The lavish mansion stood quiet-an unsettling contrast to the chaos of the previous day.
Kalix hadn't returned last night. After the attack, the hours were swallowed by endless reports, phone calls, and damage control. Viktor had stayed by his side, the two of them working relentlessly to keep the situation out of the media's grasp and track down the source of the attack.
But even through the countless tasks and distractions, one thought clung to him.
Zoya.
He wanted to see her-no, needed to. Every moment away gnawed at him. But responsibilities pulled him away, and for once, he let them. Maybe space was what she wanted.
Yet, this morning, the unsettling emptiness hadn't left him.
As soon as they returned back, Kalix stepped into dinning hall, expecting to find her. Instead, only the staff lingered, neatly arranging the untouched breakfast spread. He frowned.
"Where's Zoya?" his voice was firm, though a tinge of worry seeped through.
One of the older staff member bowed slightly before answering. "Madam did not come for breakfast, sir. She refused dinner last night as well." A wave of frustration and guilt crashed over him. He should've been here. He should've ensured she was okay. And instead of comforting her, he'd left her alone.
"Where is she now?" his voice dropped lower.
"She left for the office while ago." Alone. "She's not alone," Viktor voice cut through his thoughts as he stepped into the hall. "I made sure there's security nearby."
Kalix nodded, though the reassurance did to ease the tension inside him.
"She may not want us around," Viktor added, "But that doesn't mean we want be." Kalix didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Zoya's morning had been blur of silent tension. She arrived at the office early, the weight of previous day still lingered. The questioning gazes from the staff were easy to ignore, but the presence of security wasn't.
They weren't subtle-two guards stationed discreetly outside her office, their eyes following her every move.
Her phone buzzed. A single message from unknown contact flashed on the screen.
"Everything's ready." her fingers tightened around the device. It was the time. The chance to get answers, she waited long. But she couldn't afford to be followed.
With a calm expression, she rose from her desk and grabbed a few files-a perfect excuse for a meeting outside. She informed her assistant. The guards trailed behind her.
She stepped into her car, guards watching as she pulled away. The tinted windows concealed her expression, but her grip on the phone was tight.
A block away, as the traffic slowed, she seized the moment. "Stop here," she ordered firmly.
The driver hesitated. "Ma'am, is everything okay?"
"I just need a moment. I'll walk from here."
Without further questions, he nodded. As soon as she was out of sight, she slipped into narrow alley, the shadows embracing her. The bustling city drowned out her quick footsteps. She moved with purpose.
No one followed. Just as planned.
A black car waited at the end of the alley. One of her men stood guard, his nod brief as he opened the door. Inside, a plain bag rested on the seat. Without wasting time, she pulled off her tailored blazer, the lingering scent of expensive perfume clinging to it. She exchanged the polished suit for a simple oversized hoodie, the dark fabric falling loosely around her frame.
Her heels clattered to the floor with the dull thud. In their place, she slipped into pair of sneakers. She tugged the hood low, her face now barely visible. The transformation was complete.
"Let's go," she said, her voice steady.
The drive was silent, thoughts of Aniket lingering her mind.
"We're here," the driver announced, pulling into a secluded place.
She adjusted her hoodie, ensuring the shadow concealed most of her face.
Inside, the air was thick with the dust and the lingering smell of metal. Dim, flickering lights illuminated the worn concrete walls. At the centre of the isolated room, tied to a chair, was John. His hands were bound, his face bruised from his previous attempts of resistance.
Yet, the smugness remained.
She entered the room, John looked up. Voice full of aggression, "Who are you? Do you have any idea of whom you are messing with?" "You don't know me?" Hmm... Her voice low and steady. "But you will. And if you are smart, you'll listen and corporate." John scoffed, shifting against the ropes binding his wrist. "And if I don't? You think scaring will work? I've dealt with worse."
"Then you'd regret it." She stepped closer, the sound of her shoes echoing in the empty space. "I have feeling, it'll happen soon." "I don't even know what you're talking about," he spat. "You me up like this will make me talk? You've got nothing on me." A faint smile curled at the corner of her lips. "Really?" She pulled her phone from her pocket, the screen glowing in the darkness. A folder labelled "John Woods-Records" flashed. Photos. Transactions. Security footage. Names. Even the forged contracts he'd thought were long buried. She scrolled slowly, letting him catch every damning detail.
His face paled.
The past he had buried-the secrets he thought were forgotten-resurfaced like a like a ghost he couldn't outturn. She could see it in his eyes, the silent dread.
"Feeling nostalgic?" Zoya's voice was low, deliberate. "Or just terrified? After all, one glimpse of your dark past is enough and your real identity is enough to ruin your reputation, blacklist you from every, and send you for quite a long term." His mouth parted, eyes flickered, hesitation lingering. "You think threating me will get you what you want? You have no idea you're messing with. Someone powerful has my back. If anything happens to me, you'll regret it."
She arched a brow, a dry chuckle escaping her lips. "Sebastian Heights?
His eyes widened as he looked at her, but not too surprised.
"They're doomed. Their power? Crumbling. And you? You disappeared right before the crisis. Guess who they think sabotaged them?"
John's breath quickened.
"They're convinced you're one of the people who brought them down. And when they find you..." she paused, savouring the fear settling into his expression. "They won't ask questions. They'll tear you apart. But if you refuse to cooperate..." she tilted her head, her voice lowering into something far colder.
"I might end up doing something worse than them. And trust, it won't take long. No one will even know what happened to you." "What do you want from me?" he finally asked, his voice strained.
"Took you long enough to ask." She stepped, folding her arms. "I want you to dive into those memories you've tried so hard to forget.
His expressions curious, thinking what it could be she is after.
"Aniket."
The single name was enough to make his expressions falter.
"I don't know what you're talking about, he scoffed.
She tilted her head, studying him unsettling calm. "You sure. Before he could respond, one of her man lifted his head with his hairs. John barely had time to curse before Zoya's fist connected with his jaw. The crack of bone meeting bone echoed through the room. He stumbled backward, the chair screeching across the concrete.
"Ugh," he groaned, clutching his face. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth, but before he could catch his breath, she grabbed his collar, forcing him on the ground. Her fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing just enough to make his breath laborious. Panic flashed in his eyes.
"Don't test my patience," she hissed. "You think this is a game? I have nothing to lose. But you? You're already living on borrowed time."
He gasped, but unable to do anything. Then her hoodie slipped slightly, the dim light illuminated her face. Recognition struck him like a bolt.
"Zoya..." His voice was weak, trembling.
She didn't flinch. "Start talking." "I-I'll tell you," he choked out, the desperation plain.
Her hands lingered a moment before she released him. He started coughing and gasping for air.
"What will I get in return?" he rasped, still half dazed. "I need something. Money. Protection."
Zoya crouched beside him, fury flashing in her eyes. You'll get to live. Isn't that enough?"
"Not without money," he wheezed, glaring through the pain. "You're not the only one I have to worry about." She scoffed. "Then work for me." John blinked. "Work for you?"
"I need answers," she said, the authority in her voice undeniable. "And I need them fast. Tell me everything you know about Aniket—every single detail.
John's eyes darted between her and her men. "And if I refuse?"
"Then I won't be kind next time," Zoya said, her voice dangerously low. "And trust me, there won't be a next time." John swallowed hard. "Understood." "Good," she said, standing tall. Now speak.
John shifted uncomfortably. "Aniket used to come to 'The Eclipse Bar' where I used to work before. He wasn't just a customer. He was... obsessed with someone."
Her brows furrowed. "Someone?"
"A girl who worked there," John continued. "She was... different. Not like others. She had charm. People noticed her. But then, suddenly, she wanted to leave. Said she wanted to lead a simple life." "And the higher-ups didn't like that, a lot of people used to come only for her and she was quiet close to the higher-ups, possibly knew much about them, then she should. Zoya stared him coldly.
John looked at her. "They refused. I don't know all the details, but shortly after, Aniket was killed. They made it look like an accident. Covered up everything."
Zoya's eyes darkened. She stepped closer, her voice a razor-sharp whisper.
"How can you be so sure it was murder and not an accident?" John's face paled, but he didn't look away.
"Because I helped cover it up." The confession hung heavy in the air. Her jaw clenched. The urge to hit him again surged, but she held it back.
"Who gave the order?" she demanded.
"There were two," John stammered. "One connected to the bar's owners. The other..." He hesitated, His voice barely above the whisper. "It was Vikram Malhotra."
Her heart twisted painfully.
She knew that Vikram covered Aniket's existence from media. But didn't that he teamed up with his murder.
"You're lying," she seethed.
"I swear," john insisted. "Your father covered it all. The bar, the media-he pulled strings. Vikram Malhotra made sure it disappeared from the news like it never happened." Tears welled in Zoya's eyes, but she blinked them away, her expression stone-cold.
"Conveinient story," she spat.
John's gaze flickered with desperation. "I have proof. I still have Aniket's phone." Her eyes narrowed. "What?" "I took it after... after he died," he said quickly. "I thought it might be useful one day. It has messages, call logs, pictures-everything, it's all in there.
Her hands curled into fists, trembling from the storm of emotions.
"Fine" she said through gritted teeth. "Bring me the phone." And as now you're working for me-So let me give you your first task.
John shifted uncomfortably. "What do you want me to do?" She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, swiping to a grainy image. It was blurred shot of a man who had lunged at Kalix yesterday-the footage pulled from the media. Despite the lack of clarity, the face was distinct enough.
"Kalix was attacked yesterday," she said holding screen in front of him. "This man tried to kill him. Find out who he is, who sent him, and why. I want names, motives-everything." John's eyes flickered to the image. "And what if I can't?" Zoya's patience snapped. She leaned closer, her glare burning into him.
"Consider this your first and last chance to prove your loyalty," she spat. "You have a week. Within that time, I want results." Her voice dropped lower, sharp and unwavering.
"My men will be watching your every move. If you try to be over smart, then I'll be the first one to finish you-long before your enemies get the chance."
He swallowed hard, the weight of her sinking in.
With that, she turned and left.