Chapter4

When I woke up after that night in the wine cellar, Victor had already left the apartment.

For the entire week that followed, he didn't return.

That suited me perfectly. Without him breathing down my neck, it was much easier to liquidate that jewelry on the dark web and prepare my safehouse and fake identity for London.

When Victor finally stepped back into the penthouse, he wasn't alone. He brought Elena with him.

Elena carried herself with the blatant air of the lady of the house, her critical gaze sweeping over every detail of the apartment's decor. Finally, she pointed at the spacious study at the end of the hallway.

"Victor, have the computers and desks in there thrown out," she casually instructed his men. "I'm going to turn it into my private dance studio."

I stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold with icy detachment.

A year ago, I had pestered Victor, begging him to turn that empty room into a gaming setup for me. He had kept a cold face and ruthlessly refused: "Don't clutter my territory with that obnoxious, noisy junk."

But now, with a single word from Elena, Victor didn't even bat an eye. He just ordered Luca, "Do as she says. Clear it out immediately."

He even looked at her with pure indulgence.

Disgusting. I lowered my eyelashes, my hands balling into tight fists inside my pockets, while my face maintained that same docile, faint smile.

The following afternoon, I went back to my bedroom to retrieve an encrypted flash drive.

The moment I pushed open the door, my entire body jolted. Elena was standing in my room, an old ruby necklace pinched between her fingertips. It was the only thing my parents had left me—the one keepsake I had dug out of the rubble after that gang shootout years ago.

I snapped sharply, "What are you doing? Put that down!"

Hearing my voice, Elena slowly turned around. She looked at me, a highly malicious, amused smirk blooming across her face. Then, her two fingers simply let go.

Clack.

The necklace hit the hardwood floor. The tarnished silver clasp snapped completely, and the ruby—already bearing a hairline fracture—shattered instantly upon impact.

"Elena!" I screamed, utterly losing control. I lunged forward like a madwoman, wanting nothing more than to rip her face to shreds.

Urgent footsteps pounded from the hallway. Victor stormed into the room. The moment he saw my hand raised to strike Elena, his face darkened to an absolute extreme.

"Vivian, what the hell is wrong with you!"

He closed the distance in long strides and ruthlessly shoved me backward.

My back slammed into the heavy cabinet. I let out a muffled groan of pain, clutching my right hand as I slid down to the floor.

My hand... I was a hacker. I needed these hands to hammer a keyboard and hunt down the real killer in London!

Elena’s eyes immediately welled up with tears as she ducked right into Victor’s embrace. "Victor, I was just curious and wanted to look at that necklace, but she tried to hit me. I was so scared... And when it broke, it scratched my hand." She held up her pristine finger, which bore nothing but a faint, barely-there red mark.

Victor shielded her possessively, his voice a roaring lash directed at me: "Over a piece of cheap junk, you dared to lay a hand on Elena? Get out to the living room and get on your knees! Don't you dare get up without my permission!"

In that exact moment, my heart went completely and utterly dead.

I looked at him holding the woman who had just destroyed my parents' last relic, realizing that even opening my mouth to defend myself was a waste of breath.

I stood up in total silence. Dragging my injured arm, I walked out to the living room and sank to my knees.

I gritted my teeth, silently counting down the exact number of days left until my departure.

Deep into the night, just as I was on the brink of passing out from the pain and exhaustion of kneeling, Victor finally walked out. He looked down at my swaying, fragile figure and spoke: "Do you know what you did wrong now?"

I lifted my head. "I did nothing wrong."

Victor froze. He clearly had not expected his usually submissive canary to suddenly look at him with a gaze like that.

His face twisted into something incredibly vicious. He pointed directly at the front door and roared, "Get out! Since you don't know what's good for you, get the hell off Russo family territory! Figure out your place, and then you can come screaming back to beg me!"

I looked at him, and suddenly, I smiled.

Using the wall for support, I slowly pushed myself up to my feet. There was no crying. No begging. With one hand, I dragged out the suitcase I had packed days ago—filled with IDs and encrypted hard drives—and walked right out the front doors of the penthouse, never once looking back.

...

Finally, the time came. I sat in a first-class seat bound for London, lightly swirling the champagne in my glass as I watched the glittering New York skyline shrink into the distance outside my window.

Meanwhile, back at the Russo family headquarters in New York, Victor finally felt that his punishment had gone on long enough. He frowned and ordered his underboss, "Go find out where Vivian is. Bring her back to me."

Ten minutes later, Luca burst into the office, his face deathly pale.

"B-Boss... she's gone! We can't find her anywhere in New York!"

Victor's brows furrowed. Just as he was about to unleash his temper, Luca swallowed hard and added:

"And... the underground private keys for three of our offshore banks were hacked. Exactly eighty million dollars in liquid funds on the books, we just discovered... vanished completely without a trace!"