Chapter 8:The Man in the Dark
675 Words
Cassiopeia Lawrence did not believe in coincidences anymore.
Not after dying once.
She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of Lawrence Group's headquarters, staring down at the city lights. Abuja shimmered below her like a field of artificial stars. Cold. Distant. Beautiful.
Just like him.
Ivan Volkov.
The name had begun appearing too often in her life.
A canceled contract here.
A rival suddenly withdrawing there.
A government approval that came faster than expected.
All threads led to one invisible hand.
And she was beginning to suspect whose.
Behind her, the office door opened softly.
"Cassie," Seraphina's voice came carefully. "Adrian is furious."
Cassiopeia didn't turn.
"About which failure?" she asked calmly.
Seraphina hesitated. "The Petrovia deal collapsed this morning. Investors are pulling back."
Cassiopeia's lips curved faintly.
Petrovia.
That deal had ruined her in her past life. Adrian had used it to secretly drain company funds before framing her for mismanagement.
But this time,
It collapsed before it could trap her.
Interesting.
"Did Adrian blame me?" she asked.
"He tried to," Seraphina replied quietly. "But the audit shows the fault came from his own department."
Cassiopeia finally turned around.
In her previous life, no one had checked. No one had questioned him.
This time, the system itself seemed to be protecting her.
Or someone was.
"Seraphina," she said slowly, "have you heard of Volkov International expanding into Nigeria?"
Seraphina stiffened.
"Ivan Volkov?" she whispered.
So she knew the name too.
Cassiopeia walked back to her desk and picked up the black file resting there.
Volkov International. Energy. Security. Private investment.
Power that moved quietly.
"He attended the investor's summit last month," Seraphina added. "But he left before the gala. No interviews. No press."
A ghost.
Cassiopeia's fingers tightened slightly on the file.
In her past life, she had met him only once,briefly, at a diplomatic dinner. He had watched her from across the room with unreadable eyes while Adrian held her possessively.
At the time, she had dismissed him as just another powerful man.
But now…
Now she wondered.
Was he watching again?
Across the city, in a dimly lit penthouse office, Ivan Volkov stood before a wall of monitors.
Each screen displayed market data, surveillance updates, financial transfers.
One screen showed Cassiopeia walking inside her office minutes ago.
Alive.
Strong.
Different.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"She avoided the Petrovia collapse exactly as projected," his assistant murmured from behind him.
Ivan said nothing.
Projected.
No.
Engineered.
Adrian's offshore account had been frozen at precisely 3:12 a.m.
The anonymous complaint had been filed thirty minutes later.
The regulatory board had received "new evidence" by dawn.
All perfectly timed.
Ivan's eyes softened,barely.
"She learns quickly," he said in Russian.
"Should we proceed with Phase Two?"
A pause.
Ivan stared at the image of Cassiopeia standing by the window earlier that evening.
In her past life, she had stood in a courtroom instead.
Alone.
He had been too late then.
This time, he would not be.
"Not yet," he replied coldly. "Let him struggle."
Adrian needed to feel the ground slipping.
Slowly.
Back at the Lawrence residence, Cassiopeia sat alone on her balcony later that night.
The air felt heavy.
Like she was being watched.
Not in danger.
Just… observed.
Protected.
It unsettled her more than hostility would have.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
She stared at it for a long second before answering.
Silence.
Then.....
A low male voice.
"Be careful who you trust, Miss Lawrence."
Her heartbeat spiked.
"Who is this?"
A soft exhale on the other end.
"You're moving too quickly."
Click.
The line went dead.
Cassiopeia lowered the phone slowly.
Her pulse refused to calm.
That voice ....
Deep. Controlled. Familiar in a way she could not explain.
Her gaze drifted toward the city skyline.
"Who are you, Ivan Volkov?" she whispered.
Far across the city, in the darkened penthouse, Ivan stood by his window.
Phone still in his hand.
His expression unreadable.
"You don't remember," he murmured quietly.
But I remember everything.
And this time....
I will claim what should have been mine.
- Writer
