Page 158 of Sinful Games

For two years, I've felt like a ghost, questioning everything, trapped in a never-ending cycle of grief. Then one day, it hit me.

We call kids without parentsorphans, but what the hell do we call parents who’ve lost their kids? In that unbearable moment, I realized something I wish I could forget: I will always be my son’s father, no matter where life drags me. That bond is carved into my soul, an unbreakable chain that defies time and space.

My love for Lukyan is eternal.

That’s why I know I won’t rest until I avenge my baby and my wife.

The phone on my desk rang, pulling me from my dark thoughts.

“Yes?” I answered, sweat pooling in my palms.

“Someone's here to see you, Mr. Romaniev,” Stacy, my secretary, said.

“Okay.” I hung up, forcing myself to breathe.

Then, three soft knocks echoed before Stacy opened the door, a tight smile on her lips. “Caia Mankiev, Sir.”

Mankiev?Annoyance flared in my chest but faded as she stepped inside.

Our eyes locked, green meeting blue—like spring breaking through the ice, breathing life back into a frozen world. In that instant, the chaos vanished. It was just us, Alexsei and Caia, before the games, before the hatred, before love twisted into heartache.

The ache in my bones grew stronger, a desperate longing to reach out, to pull her close and feel her heart beating next to mine again. For a brief moment, it was as if she had never left. But the illusion shattered when she cleared her throat.

“Hello,husband,” she said softly, gripping her purse tighter.

Her voice calling my name brought a rush of warmth back into me. I stood there, just staring at her.

She’d cut her hair—it was shorter than last time, falling to her chest, still that chestnut color I loved. She’d lost some weight too; her cheeks were less full, more defined. She wore black Converse, a black denim skirt, and a long-sleeved knotted jumpsuit. She was unmistakably my Caia, yet something felt different.

“Hi,wife,” I murmured, barely above a whisper.

The moment those words left my lips, her lips pursed, and a shadow of sadness flickered in her eyes.

My throat tightened, but I managed to croak out, “Please, take a seat.” With a heavy heart, I sank into my chair, bracing myself for what was to come. “How are you, Caia?”

She slowly took a seat in front of me, her head bowed and fingers fidgeting. “I’m good,” she replied softly.

I leaned back, frustration thick in my voice. “Why does hearing that cut so deep?” I whispered, the agony seeping through. I wanted her to fucking say it—how these twogoddamn years apart had been hell, how seeing me now must've unleashed a torrent of emotions, and that she still fucking loved me, never wanting to be apart again. But it felt like I was the only one drowning in this mess of feelings.

With a deep sigh, Caia finally looked up.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” she said, her voice trembling. “I need your help, Alexsei. Someone’s trying to kill me.”

What?

“Someone’s trying to kill you?” I echoed, the disbelief in my voice barely masking the rising anger.

Caia nodded. “Yes. I don’t know who or why, but I’m scared. I need your help…please.”

What the hell’s going on?

“How do you know someone’s after you?”

Why would anyone target her? Then the cold realization hit me. Someone had already succeeded in killing my son. Now, she was the next target.

“Someone’s been following me for weeks. I can feel it.” She shuddered. “Wherever I go, I feel someone watching me, stalking me. Two nights ago, Steven and I?—”

My blood ran cold.

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