Chapter One: The HumiliationAlexander Petrov’s POV“It smells like a dead rat in here. I wonder why this place suddenly reeks of that.” Vivian said, holding her nose as soon as Alexander walked in.“But it smells just fine—” Marcus, her husband wanted to say, but the moment he set his eyes on Alexander, his nose scrunched up and his facial expression suddenly turned sour. Alexander halted his steps, his hand tightening around the wine glass he was holding. Fury thrummed through him.“You’re right, the stench is actually powerful,” Marcus added, his voice thickened with scorn. Everyone in the grand ballroom had quietened down; the charity gala seemed to have been put on hold by Alexander’s entrance.“Did you perhaps purchase that suit—or rather stole it from a mentally deranged man? Because there’s really no way in hell you’d put that on to a family’s occasion.” Vivian continued.Alexander stared down at his suit. Threadbare at the cuff, creased at the sleeve. He had seen it when he w

Chapter Three: Watching From the ShadowsAlexander Petrov’s POVAlexander sat in the surveillance room of his warehouse, three monitors glowing in front of him. The timestamp on the feed read 11:47 PM. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be strategizing, planning his next move against his uncle, tracking Viktor’s movements.But instead, he was watching Isabella.The camera feed showed her private study in the Summers estate. He had hacked into the security system months ago—one of the first things he’d done after moving in. Not for surveillance. For protection. He needed to know if his uncle’s men ever breached the estate.But tonight, he was using it for something else entirely.Isabella sat alone at her desk, divorce papers spread before her like a death sentence. Her hand hovered over the signature line but didn’t move. She uncapped the pen. Paused. Put it down. Picked it up again.Alexander leaned closer to the screen. Why wasn’t she signing?Vivian had brought her those papers

Chapter Five: The Witness & The PhotoAlexander Petrov’s POVAlexander had been tracking Viktor’s movements for six months. Every meeting. Every transaction. Every fucking breath the bastard took, Alexander knew about it.So when Katerina pinged him that Viktor was heading to the Northern Bank—the one his uncle used to launder money through shell corporations—Alexander knew he had to see this for himself.He arrived at the bank fifteen minutes before Viktor did. Blended into the crowd. Just another customer.The bank was busy. Marble floors. High ceilings. The kind of place where money whispered instead of talked.Alexander stood near the back, pretending to fill out a deposit slip. His eyes tracked Viktor the moment he walked through the door.Viktor moved with confidence. Expensive suit. Expensive watch. The kind of man who’d never been told ‘no’ in his entire privileged life. He headed straight for the private banking section.Alexander kept his distance. Watched. Waited.That’s wh

Chapter Seven: The Museum MeetingAlexander Petrov’s POVAlexander had been tracking Isabella since the dinner party. Not physically—he wasn’t that reckless. But through the estate’s security feeds. Through her phone’s GPS that Katerina had quietly tagged months ago.For protection, he’d told himself. In case his uncle’s men made a move.But tonight, as he watched her car pull away from the estate at 11:47 PM, heading toward the abandoned museum district, he knew this wasn’t about protection.This was about the text message.The one from the unknown number. The one that said: “Your husband is not who he claims to be. Meet me tomorrow if you want to know the truth.”Except ‘tomorrow’ was now tonight. And Isabella was going to meet whoever sent it.“Fuck.” Alexander grabbed his jacket. “Dmitri, I’m heading out.”“At midnight? Where—”“The old museum. Isabella’s meeting someone.”Dmitri’s expression darkened. “Could be a trap.”“I know. That’s why I’m going.”He took the bike instead of

Chapter Nine: The Truth Laid BareAlexander Petrov’s POVAlexander led Isabella into a side room of the safe house. Small. Sparse. Just a table and two chairs.Isabella sat down without being asked. Her hands were shaking.Alexander remained standing. His mind was still processing what had just happened. Elena. The attack. Isabella showing up at the worst possible moment.Isabella saving his life.“You’ve been a Prince all along,” Isabella said finally. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were wide. Stunned.“I take it that you’ve been told. And I wanted you to hear it from me first, but I guess there’s nothing I can do anymore.” Alexander ran a hand through his hair.“I still want to hear it from you, Alex.”No one called him Alex except Dmitri. Hearing it from Isabella’s mouth felt strange. Intimate.He sat down across from her. “Like you rightly said, I’ve been a Prince all along. From the Valdorian Court to be precise, but I left home twelve years ago when I was sixteen.”Isabella