Marina Vasiliev had always known that her family's wealth and power were built on lies. But she had never expected to become a casualty of them.
For months, she had been watching her father. Listening. Collecting fragments of whispered conversations and coded documents, desperate to prove to herself that her suspicions were wrong. That the Vasiliev name wasn't as rotten as the rumors claimed. But every stolen piece of evidence only confirmed the truth , her father, Xavier Vasiliev, once the symbol of patriotism and pride, was entangled in something sinister.
Tonight was supposed to be no different. Another late-night meeting. Another shadowy deal between powerful politicians. Another chance to listen from the shadows.
But fate had other plans.
The corridor outside her father's study was silent except for the faint hum of electricity running through the chandelier overhead. The marble tiles were cold beneath her bare feet, each step threatening to echo if she wasn't careful. She pressed herself against the wall, where shadows pooled in the golden light, and held her breath.
The heavy oak door muffled most of the voices inside, but Xavier's deep baritone carried. "We can't afford to let this information leak," he snapped, his tone dripping with fury. "The deal with Castellano is already unstable. If the media catches wind of our ties with the trafficking ring, it's over."
Marina's stomach twisted violently. Her nails dug into her palm as bile threatened to rise. It was worse than she had feared. Not just bribes. Not just stolen contracts. Children. Why couldn't they just leave innocent lives untouched?
Another man spoke, his voice hoarse with age. "Then what do you suggest?" .Xavier didn't hesitate. His reply was as casual as it was chilling.
"We get rid of her. Tonight. I can't wait any longer , our reputations are on the line."
Marina froze. For a moment, her brain refused to process the words. Her father wasn't speaking of some nameless journalist or rival. He meant her.
Her knees weakened, but the conversation continued, every word slicing into her like a blade.
"And if the media questions her sudden death?" another voice pressed. Xavier gave a low, mirthless chuckle. "We'll fake an illness. My wife will play her part. No one will doubt it."
Her lips parted soundlessly. Mother… she would help him? . A suffocating wave of betrayal swelled in her chest, and before she realized it, she stumbled back. Her heel caught the edge of a pedestal. The ornate vase toppled, shattering against the marble.
The sharp crack of breaking porcelain shattered the room's conversation.
"Who's there?" her father barked.
Panic surged hot and cold through her veins. Marina bolted down the corridor, her breath sawing out of her chest. The hall blurred around her as she stumbled into her bedroom, slamming the door shut and twisting the lock.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she pressed against the door, listening.
Meanwhile, back in the study, Xavier Vasiliev's expression hardened to granite. He turned slowly toward the sleek laptop glowing on his desk. With a few taps, the screen lit with surveillance footage. The hallway flickered grainy and gray—Marina's figure crouched in the shadows, her ear far too close to the door.
One of the suited men leaned in, his face pale. "She's been spying for weeks. Tonight, she heard everything."
Another slammed his hand on the table. "She's the one who leaked the dock records!"
Xavier's knuckles whitened as he reached for his phone. His voice was low, dangerous.
"Then it ends now. Send two men to Marina's room. Quietly. She doesn't leave this house alive."
Upstairs, Marina's hands shook violently as she threw clothes into a duffel bag. Every instinct screamed at her to run. But where? The police? Impossible—her father owned half the force. Friends? None she could trust.
She needed someone untouchable. Someone her father feared.
Viktor Castellano.
The name struck her like lightning. Cold. Ruthless. A mafia billionaire who controlled nearly half the city. Her father's greatest enemy.
It was absurd. It was dangerous. But it was her only chance.
Marina dropped to her knees beside her dresser, reaching for the hidden drawer at the bottom. Beneath old notebooks lay a slip of paper she had hidden months ago. A number whispered by a dying man who had begged her to remember, Viktor's name spilling from his bloodied lips like both a curse and a promise.
Her chest heaved as she punched the digits into her phone. Each ring scraped against her raw nerves until the line clicked.
"Who is this?"
The voice was cold. Gravel-edged. Detached.
Marina gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles blanched. "My name is Marina Vasiliev. You don't know me, but I know you. I need your help. My father , Xavier Vasiliev he's trying to kill me. I have proof. Documents that could ruin him and everyone he works with. But I need protection. Please."
A silence followed, sharp as a knife. Then, his reply:
"I don't do charity, Marina Vasiliev. What made you think I'd help you?" . Desperation clawed at her throat. "I'll give you everything. The names. The routes. The accounts. Everything. Just—please. Protect me."
The silence stretched longer this time. So long that hope flickered inside her chest. Then his voice cut through, colder than ice.
"Go waste someone else's time. I'm not interested."
The line went dead.
Marina stared at her phone in disbelief, her heart crashing into her ribs. He had dismissed her. The one man powerful enough to save her had treated her plea as nothing.
A loud crash jolted her from her daze , the sound of footsteps storming down the hall, men's voices barking orders.
Her breath caught. "Screw the bag," she whispered hoarsely, abandoning it on the bed.
There was only one thought left in her mind. Escape.