Page 10 of Ruins
Korsakov and my father expected a yes. Assumed I’d fall in line.
As if I ever had a choice.
My jaw tightens, but I push it aside.
A twinge of anger prickles through me, settling deep.
Doesn’t matter.
I pick up the pen.
I skim the contract, eyes catching on a particular clause.
“I can’t change the name?” I ask, glancing up.
Popov straightens, his expression unwavering. “NovaRael is named after my daughters. Vasilisa’s middle name is Nova. I ask that it not be erased.”
I consider this.
I had planned to merge ZUES and NovaRael under one brand, a single entity under my control. But sentimentality isn’t worth interfering with. Not now.
Not when the goal isownership.
It’s not worth the time.
I’ll have NovaRael. That’s what matters. If keeping the name is the price, then so be it.
“Fine,” I say, signing the papers. “I’ll have copies sent to you later in the week.”
Popov rises, smoothing his jacket. At the door, he pauses.
“Will you be visiting Vasilisa soon?”
“There’s no need.”
He lifts a brow but says nothing. Just offers a brief nod before exiting, leaving the room steeped in quiet once more—save for the faint ticking of the clock.
And the framed photo now occupying my desk.
VasilisaNova.
***
NovaRael is a masterpiece.
The sleek, modern building stands tall, cutting into the restless city skyline like it was built to rule over it. Its glass panels reflect the chaos of the streets below, untouched by it. Unbothered.
I step inside, firing off a quick text to Luca.
‘Keep me updated on Vasilisa’s whereabouts.’
The office hums with quietluxury—polished marble, glass accents, meticulously curated décor that doesn’t just whisper wealth, it demands acknowledgment.
Employees move through the space, but I don’t miss the way heads subtly turn as I pass. They know exactly who I am.
Or at least, theythinkthey do.
Miroslav Popov’s name is still etched into the glass of his corner office, but not for long. My fingers twitch at the thought, already anticipating the sight of my own name in its place.
