Vengeance

CHAPTER 1

"Twin?"

The moment Robert first saw the unconscious man on the stretcher, he’d been stunned, momentarily mistaking him for Mikhail. But the scratches on the stranger’s hands told a different story. A closer examination sparked suspicion of foul play, as the person in front of him could under no circumstances be his friend. The person has to be impersonating Mikhail Russo.

Robert's relief quickly turned into alarm, prompting him to call his friend. A far-fetched theory still lingered in his mind as he spoke to Mikhail.

Could it be his friend's twin? It sounded absurd, but not impossible.

Years of friendship, yet Mikhail had never once mentioned having a twin. He had spoken about having a younger brother in passing, but Robert never imagined it to be a twin. From the very beginning of their friendship, Mikhail had been guarded about his past, especially when it came to his family, but Robert had never pressed him on it. Now curiosity gnawed upon him.

"Yes. He is my twin brother, Anatoly." Mikhail stated, his gaze steady on the man lying before him. "What happened to him?" He asked, struggling to contain his emotions.

It was hard to express how he felt about the new development in his life. Over two decades had passed since he had last seen Anatoly—twenty-one years, to be exact. Although in a small part of his heart, he was relieved to find his brother, a bigger part felt vulnerable.

Exposed.

A feeling which he had long mastered to mask with numbness.

"A panic attack." Noting his friend's confusion, Robert elucidated. "He has mysophobia. An extreme fear of germs and contamination. Do you see the scratches on his hands?" He gestured toward the crisscrossing marks on Anatoly’s hand, some still bleeding faintly.

Mikhail nodded as he tried to grasp the severity of his brother's suffering.

"That’s the result of mysophobia, and so was the panic attack.” Robert explained, “He was walking down the road when he collapsed. Someone called an ambulance. When he regained consciousness, he became frantic, trying to isolate himself. He kept mumbling about germs and dirt. We had to sedate him to calm him down."

"Is it dangerous?" Mikhail asked, concern etched on his face.

"It can be, depending upon the severity of it. In extreme cases, it can result in an accidental death if spiralled out of control."

Phobia of germs.

His mind stirred with those words. His exceptional memory—more a curse than a gift—dragged him back to his childhood, unearthing moments he wished to forget.

Memories flooded in, vivid and unrelenting. His brother, Anatoly, had always been different. He was withdrawn, hypersensitive to touch, and prone to erratic outbursts. As a boy, Mikhail, in youthful ignorance, had teased him mercilessly, not grasping the depth of his brother’s struggles. Even then, beneath the playful jabs and sibling rivalry, he had loved his twin fiercely, though he hadn’t known how to show it. Now, understanding dawned upon him. Anatoly's quirks were symptoms of a lifelong battle with mysophobia.

A weak voice broke the spell. "Mikhail…"

Mikhail’s head turned toward the bed, his gaze fixed on his brother as Anatoly’s eyes fluttered open, surprised that his twin remembered him.

"Mikhail… is that you?" His brother's raspy voice called out again, disbelief written across his pale features.

"Brother. What a pleasant surprise! Welcome back to the world." Mikhail's trademark grin spread wide.

"Unbelievable... I never thought I'd see you ever again." Anatoly's voice was soft, a complete contrast to Mikhail's voice, which was bare of meaningful emotions.

"And here I couldn't wait to see you my whole life,"

Robert was unsure if his friend was truly happy to meet his brother, as he could sense that Mikhail was trying to keep his emotions at bay. Before any of the brothers could utter a single word, he tactfully intervened.

"Mikhail, I don't want to interrupt your rightful time with your brother, but I need my staff to check on him. Give us some time before you can catch up properly."

Mikhail bit back his objection, silently acknowledging Robert's concern. Though his reputation precedes him as dangerous, it doesn't mean he is inhuman. He may have carried a stone heart, but his humanity wasn’t entirely dead.

Not yet, anyway.

“Fine. Do what you need to,” he muttered, his tone clipped.

He begrudgingly stepped out of the room, pacing the hallway for what felt like an eternity, but it was only a good hour of waiting. When he finally re-entered, he stood stiffly, refusing to take the comfort of the seat, particularly when his nerves were riling with every passing second.

The brothers silently stared at each other, neither one willing to speak first. The room felt heavy with unspoken words, the weight of two decades pressing down on them.

Anatoly was the one who ultimately resigned to the awkwardness. "You look awfully like me."

"I am older, so technically, you look like me." Mikhail corrected, his tone sharp and deliberate.

He was never the type to muck around with words. He has always been a straightforward man. A straight shooter, a man with few words. He had the skill of using his sharp words to get anything he wanted.

"Either way, it's the same thing. So… how have you been?" Anatoly tried to initiate a conversation. His nervousness was evident on his face and in his voice.

Despite being twins, the brothers were polar opposites. If one was north, then the other was south. One was a turtle, then the other was a leopard.

"Why do you care? I am rather surprised that your mother didn't erase me from your memory." Mikhail's bitterness spiraled over.

"Our mother, Mikhail." Anatoly corrected gently. "She is your mother too. And I do care. We are twins. Seeing you again is... It’s a relief."

Anatoly tried to calm his twin with his words. Even as a child, Mikhail was always upbeat, but now it seems that his high level of energy has been channeled into anger.

An understandable rage.

"That woman is no mother of mine,” Mikhail gritted, his jaw hardening. “A good mother would never choose between her kids, no matter how much she favors one."

An urge to punch the wall surged through him, but he held himself back. He needed answers, and letting his anger control him wasn’t the way to get them.

"Mikhail. I am confident there was no favoritism. I truly believe that she loved us equally and missed you every day. I have seen the pain in her eyes."

Anatoly loved his mother, and he didn't want his brother to despise her. Their mother had given him everything.

“So, brother, tell me. Why the f**k did she abandon me and not you?” Mikhail’s eyes darkened, his voice cutting like a blade.

Subtlety had never been his way. He wasn’t interested in small talk or excuses. He wanted answers, the same ones he had been chasing his whole life since the day he was thrown into an orphanage by the woman who should have protected him.

"I wish I knew, Mikhail, but I don't have the answer."

“Given that you've known about my existence for years, you've never bothered to ask your mother about me. This is some care you have towards me, brother."

Mikhail looked intently, waiting for his response, observing his brother's reaction to his words. They both knew that he had made a fair point.

"I did try to ask her about you, but then she always became hysterical. It was like I was tearing an old wound. Simply mentioning your name would make her sob. I couldn't see her broken, so I stopped asking, hoping that one day she'd tell me when she's ready."

"Don't you think twenty-one years is a long time for someone to be ready?"

“What do you want me to do?" Anatoly sighed heavily, surrendering. He was tired, and his twin was making him even more exhausted. This is not how he expected their reunion to go.

"I want you to rest while I take care of everything," Mikhail said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His mind moved faster than his actions ever could. There was a reason people called him the King.

"What do you mean?" Anatoly’s confusion deepened while Mikhail's eyes shone with new determination.

"I am going to take your place, brother. Until I find the truth behind our so-called mother's abandonment, you will take all the rest you can have in a private room with all the amenities. You will be safe and sound with everything taken care of."

"What?" Anatoly’s eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. He had expected his brother to confront their mother directly, not scheme behind her back. The idea made him uncomfortable. "You can’t be serious."

Mikhail’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, his words dripping with a calculated sharpness. "Consider it a debt repaid, brother. After years of living in Mother's warmth and comfort while I endured the cold, this is the least you could do for me."

Anatoly sighed, his shoulders sagging in resignation. "Of course, brother."

Even as children, Mikhail had always dominated him. His elder twin knew that he was a weakling and left no stone unturned to prove it every chance he got.

Mikhail, on the other hand, couldn't suppress a small, satisfied smile. After twenty-one long years, he would uncover the truth, no matter what it took.