Page 90 of Porcelain Lies

“I had every right as your sister and advisor.” Her voice carries the steel she learned from our mother. “The Novikov connection legitimizes your position. Their old money washing our new. You know this.”

Blood pounds in my temples. She’s crossed a line, but the political implications are undeniable. Canceling now would insult not just the Novikovs, but every family planning to attend. It would signal weakness, invite challenges.

Ublyudok!

“Sofia’s father has already announced the date to his associates,” Diana continues, twisting the knife. “He’s leveraged significant resources on this union.”

“Pizdets!”I slam my palm against the desk. “You manipulativesuka.”

“Call me what you want, but you know I’m right.” She stands, smoothing her skirt. “The invitations say next week. Everything is arranged.”

I rise to tower over her, rage radiating from every muscle. But she doesn’t flinch — she never has. We both know she’s outmaneuvered me.

“I should exile you for this,” I growl.

“You won’t.” She touches my cheek, the gesture so like our mother’s it makes my chest ache. “Because you know I did this for you. For us. For Bobik.”

The mention of my son deflates my rage. She’s right — maintaining power means keeping him safe. And power in our world requires alliances, appearances, compromises.

“Get out,” I mutter, turning away. “Just… get out.”

Her heels click across the floor, pausing at the door. “The tailor comes tomorrow for your fitting. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” The door clicks shut behind her, leaving me alone with my fury.

One week. Seven fucking days until I’m shackled to Sofia Novikova.

My fist connects with the wall, pain shooting through my knuckles. Diana knows exactly what she’s done. The timing, the guest list, the political implications — she’s woven a web I can’t escape without destabilizing everything I’ve built.

Sergei Novikov’s smug face flashes in my mind. That old-moneymudakhas been pushing for this alliance for years, dangling his connections and legitimacy like bait. Now he’ll have his victory, his ice queen daughter installed in my home, in my life.

“Blyad!”I snarl.

Unbidden, an image of Stella surfaces. The memory of her soft skin under my hands makes my chest tight. Those moments with her felt more real than a decade of Sofia’s calculated advances. She’s everything Sofia lacks. Everything I can’t have.

“Suka,” I mutter, unsure if I’m cursing Diana, Sofia, or myself.

That connection is impossible now. Diana’s trap is complete — the invitations sent, the arrangements made, the political consequences of backing out too severe. I can’t risk the instability, not with Bobik depending on my protection.

The ghost of Stella’s touch haunts my skin as I contemplate my upcoming marriage. I may have fought my way through blood and bone to get to where I am, but suddenly I am powerless to control my own destiny.

The world I’ve carved for myself has become my prison.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Aleksei

Sofia’s shrill voice pierces through my skull as she screeches down the phone line, rattling on about place settings and flower arrangements.

“Are you even listening?” she snaps. “This isourwedding, Aleksei. The least you could do is pretend to care.”

I glare at the custom-made tux that’s hanging in my dressing room. Fucking monkey suit. I should probably start dressing. I glance at my watch. One hour until I face the preacher. Might as well be an executioner for the way I’m feeling.

“The flowers need to match the table settings, but this revolting hotel doesn’t have anything in porcelain white,” she’s still babbling. “Not that anyone will notice. The food will be inedible. Do you know that they couldn’t bring in salmon from the Faroe Islands? What kind of five-star hotel can’t get that right?”

“I don’t care, Sofia.” The words come out clipped, each syllable sharp enough to cut. “Shouldn’t you be dressing, or something?”

“I’m waiting for the make-up artist to touch up my tan lines.” She huffs a breath. “Whatever made you think a week in the Bahamas was a good idea?”

She’s right. I didn’t. But since a year in Siberia was out of the question…

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