Third-Person POV – Ingrid Volkov's Office
Manhattan,
Ingrid Volkov paced her office with the lethal grace of a predator who had scented blood.
The city lights glittered below, indifferent to the storm brewing thirty-eight floors up.
She had just confirmed it.
Mikhail was still in Houston.
Not for business.
Not for pleasure.
For her.
Nora Faez.
The name burned like acid.
Two years ago, Ingrid had played her hand perfectly: forged photographs, a doctored voice memo, mercenaries to stage the perfect betrayal.
She had watched Mikhail break.
She had tasted victory.
But victory had slipped through her fingers.
He had let Nora run.
And now he was chasing.
Ingrid stopped at the window, nails digging into her palms.
She had b
