The Don's Innocent Collateral

Chapter 10

Amelia didn't cry.

She thought she would. She thought the realization that she was worth more to her father as a name he could sell to the Viperas than as his own daughter would shatter whatever fragile composure she had left. But as she walked out of the study, the marble floor cold beneath her socks, she didn't feel like crying at all.

She felt entirely, hollowly numb.

The walk back to her suite was a blur. When the bedroom door finally clicked shut behind her, the silence of the massive room rushed in to fill her ears. She sank onto the edge of the mattress and stared at the frosted glass of the closet doors.

'People become desperate one compromise at a time.'

Her father hadn't just gambled away her rent money. He'd left her to face the consequences alone — she'd come home that night to a scattered apartment, drawers emptied onto the floor, cushions slashed open, and a collector waiting for her in her own kitchen. He'd done it again. He'd let her carry the weight of a mess he made, one more time, without so much as a warning.

Amelia pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. A faint numbness spread briefly through her right hand—a quiet, terrifying reminder of the clock ticking inside her own body.

She had no one. She was sick. She was trapped. And the only thing standing between her and a gruesome death was a ruthless Bratva Don who viewed her as a tactical asset.

Her hands dropped to her lap. The terror was still there. But her jaw had set, her spine had straightened, and something in her had gone very still and very quiet. Her father was dead to her. She was going to survive this on her own.

The sudden, piercing shriek of tires tearing across the courtyard shattered the quiet of the estate.

Amelia jumped.

Shouts echoed from outside her window, followed by the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots hitting the marble floor in the corridor downstairs. The estate erupted into chaos.

Amelia didn't hesitate. She padded quickly down the hall in her socks until she reached the top of the grand staircase.

Down in the foyer, three guards had their hands resting heavily on their holstered weapons. The massive mahogany front doors were thrown wide open. Outside, idling aggressively on the imported stone of the courtyard, was a blood-red sports car.

"Stand down," Nicolai's voice boomed across the foyer. He was descending the opposite staircase, his black shirt hastily buttoned, his face a mask of contained fury. Lev was right behind him, a radio tight in his grip.

A woman stepped through the front doors, completely ignoring the armed men surrounding her.

She had sharp cheekbones and a mouth set in a permanent, practiced smirk, and she wore a tailored white coat that dragged slightly against the floor. She moved like someone who had never once been told 'no.'

"A full lockdown, Nicolai?" the woman asked, her voice a sharp, melodic purr that carried easily up the stairs. "I had to threaten your gate guards just to get my car through."

"You were told to stay in the city, Sofia," Nicolai said, stopping at the base of the stairs. His tone was ice.

"I don't take orders well, you know that," Sofia smiled, closing the distance between them. She reached out, resting a manicured hand casually against Nicolai's chest. "Besides, our fathers built this syndicate together. When the mountain locks down, my place is here. By your side."

Nicolai caught her wrist. He didn't do it gently. He pulled her hand off his chest and dropped it.

"Your place is where I tell you it is," he stated.

Sofia's smile didn't falter, but her eyes sharpened. She took a half-step back, her gaze drifting past Nicolai's shoulder as she assessed the room. And then, she looked up.

Her eyes locked onto Amelia.

Amelia stood frozen at the top of the marble staircase, still wearing the emerald sweater and her socks. She didn't look away, but the sheer, venomous jealousy that instantly flashed across Sofia's face made Amelia's breath catch in her throat.

Sofia looked at Amelia's clothes. She looked at where Amelia was standing—the corridor leading to the private master wing. She realized instantly that Amelia wasn't a maid, and she certainly wasn't a guard.

"Boss," Lev interrupted urgently, stepping forward and handing Nicolai a glowing tablet. "Perimeter team has a live capture."

Nicolai's attention snapped away from Sofia. He took the tablet, his expression darkening as he began swiping through the security feeds. "Rouse the barracks. Get eyes on the woods."

As Nicolai and Lev turned toward the security room, Sofia didn't follow them.

She walked slowly, deliberately, up the grand staircase.

Amelia held her ground. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, but her feet stayed planted on the marble.

Sofia reached the top landing. Up close, her perfume was cloying and heavy. She stopped inches from Amelia, invading her space completely. She looked Amelia up and down, her eyes lingering mockingly on her sock-clad feet.

"I know everyone who belongs in this house," Sofia said, her voice dropping to a low, vicious whisper. "And I don't recognize you."

Amelia didn't blink. "I don't recognize you either."

Sofia's eyes narrowed. "Usually, the women he brings here have the decency to leave before the sun comes up. And they certainly don't wander the master wing in their socks. Who let you raid his closets?"

"I'm not one of his women," Amelia said flatly.

"Clearly," Sofia scoffed, a cruel laugh escaping her lips. "You're definitely not his type. You look like a stray he felt sorry for. So what are you? A new maid who got lost on her way to the laundry room?"

"I'm a nurse," Amelia corrected, her voice cold and steady.

Sofia paused. She looked at Amelia's defiant face, processing the word, and then the smile returned, sharper than before.

"A nurse. How painfully domestic," Sofia murmured. She leaned in close. "A piece of advice, nurse. He collects broken things. Don't get too comfortable in those clothes."

Amelia opened her mouth to snap back, but the heavy thud of the estate's front doors swinging wide open echoed through the foyer, cutting her off.

A cold gust of mountain wind swept into the house.

Nicolai and Lev stopped halfway to the security room, turning back toward the entrance. Neither man looked alarmed. They looked bored.

Two massive Bratva perimeter guards strode through the doors. Between them, they were dragging a man by the collar of a cheap, soaked trench coat. The man was thrashing weakly, his face bruised and a fresh line of blood dripping from his split lip.

The guards didn't handle him with care. They reached the center of the foyer and unceremoniously threw him forward.

The man hit the pristine marble floor hard, letting out a sharp groan as he scrambled to his hands and knees. He coughed, spitting a dark drop of blood onto the polished stone.

Lev tapped the earpiece resting in his ear, his face completely devoid of emotion.

"Perimeter team, Boss," Lev reported, his voice flat and casual. "They picked him up three miles down the mountain road. He was trying to flag down one of our supply trucks. Like you said, they put him in the trunk."

Sofia let out a delicate, annoyed sigh at the interruption, crossing her arms as she looked down at the pathetic figure bleeding on the foyer floor.

Nicolai didn't say a word. He just stared down at the trembling man with a look of absolute, lethal disgust.

Up on the landing, the air completely vanished from Amelia's lungs. Her hands flew to the marble railing, her knuckles turning white.

The man on the floor wheezed, weakly lifting his head to look at the terrifying men surrounding him. Then, his frantic, bruised eyes darted upward, catching sight of the woman standing frozen at the top of the stairs.

Amelia stared down at her father.