Chapter 7 - The Mastermind UnmaskedThe battle was won. Vance was dead, Julian was in chains, and the Volkov Syndicate was firmly back under Damian’s control.
An emergency medical team, personally vetted by Damian’s most loyal veterans, performed a delicate two-hour operation inside the high-tech medical suite at Grayhaven House. The mechanical EMP device was successfully removed from Damian’s chest.
By 4:00 AM, Damian was resting in his master suite, wearing a simple white shirt, his color fully restored.
I sat in an armchair beside his bed, fast asleep from sheer exhaustion. Lila was sitting on the edge of Damian’s bed, drawing a picture of a rabbit and a lion on a notepad.
Damian watched her quietly, a deep sense of peace in his heart that he had never felt in his thirty-five years of life.
Suddenly, the door to the suite opened quietly.
It was Viktor. But he didn't look victorious. His face was grim, and he carried a encrypted laptop in his hands.
“Don Volkov,” Viktor spoke in a hushed tone so as not to wake me. “We finished decrypting Dr. Vance’s private hard drives.”
Damian sat up slightly, adjusting his bandages. “And? Did Julian transfer the offshore accounts to the Russians?”
“That’s the thing, sir...” Viktor swallowed hard, looking nervously at me and Lila. “Julian wasn't the mastermind. He was just a pawn.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Vance was taking orders from a dark account based right here in Maryland,” Viktor explained, turning the laptop screen toward Damian. “The poison... the EMP device... the order to bring a maid into the house three months ago... it was all orchestrated by one person.”
Damian looked at the screen. The name on the offshore transaction logs lit up in bold red letters.
Damian’s breath caught in his throat. He looked up from the screen and locked his eyes on me.
At that exact moment, I opened my eyes.
The sleepy, tired expression on my face vanished instantly. I slowly sat up straight in the armchair, crossing my legs with a cool, dangerous elegance that no simple maid had ever possessed.
“Elena...” Damian whispered, his voice filled with disbelief.
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I reached up to my hair, pulling out the messy hairpin and letting my long dark hair fall smoothly over my shoulders. I looked at Damian and smiled—a calm, icy smile that sent a shockwave through the room.
“You really thought a four-year-old child accidentally wandered into the forbidden wing of the most guarded mansion in Baltimore?” I said, my voice no longer timid or shaking. It was smooth, commanding, and dangerously sharp.
