"No, I know it doesn't, but please… I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry."
"How do I know any of this is real?" I lean closer, until we're eye to eye, until she can see the rage burning in me. "How do I know you're not still playing me? That this confession isn't just another manipulation? That Patrick didn't send you here to gain my trust so you could destroy me from the inside?"
"Because I love you!" It tears out of her, desperate and broken. "I love you, Lev. I know I don't have the right. I know I fucked everything up. But it's true. I fell for you. For Mila. And I couldn't go through with it anymore. Couldn't keep betraying you—"
"Liar." I squeeze harder. Watch her face start to change color. "You don't love me. You love staying alive. You love whatever Patrick promised you. This is just another lie in a long line of lies—"
"It's not—" She's gasping now, clawing at my hand. "Please, Lev… can't… breathe"
My fingers tighten.
She makes a small, broken, terrified sound, and something in it cracks through the rage.
I release her.
She collapses to the floor, gasping, sobbing, hands at her throat where my fingers left marks.
And I stand there shaking with the need to finish it. To end her. To make the pain stop by eliminating its source.
The door opens behind me.
Mikhail. Gun drawn. Assessing the situation with one look, me standing over Valerie, her on the floor crying, the rage radiating off me like heat.
"Boss?" His voice is carefully neutral.
"Lock her in the basement." The words come out flat. "Secure holding. No contact. No phone. Nothing."
"Lev, please—" Valerie reaches for me, and I step back like her touch burns. "Please don't do this! My brother… Patrick's going to kill him!"
"Your brother isn't my problem." I holster my gun before I use it. "You made your choices. Now you live with the consequences."
"But you said—you said you'd help with whatever trouble I was in."
"I said nothing." I turn to Mikhail. "Get her out of my sight. Now."
He gestures, and two guards appear. They grab Valerie under the arms, haul her up.
She fights. Tries to pull away. Screams my name like it'll change anything.
"Lev, please! He's going to kill Ethan! Please, I'm begging you!"
The guards drag her toward the stairs. Her screams echo through the house, raw, desperate, breaking on my name over and over.
I don't follow. Don't watch. Just stand in her room surrounded by her things and let the rage consume me.
When her screams finally fade, I walk back to my office. The one place that's still mine, still untouched by her lies.
Except it's not, because every space in my home has been tainted by her.
I punch through the painting on the wall, and my knuckles begin to bleed, split open from the shattered glass of thepainting. Blood streaks across the floor, but I don't feel it. Don't feel anything except rage and pain and the crushing weight of my own stupidity.
I trusted her. Let her in. Showed her everything. Made myself vulnerable for the first time in five years.
And she was working for Patrick the entire time.
The pain is worse than when Katya died.
Worse because Ichosethis. Chose to ignore the red flags. Chose to believe her lies. Chose to fall for her despite every instinct screaming that something was wrong.