The Inheritance
888 Words
Ch. 17: The Inheritance
Lena’s POV
The gunshot echoed through the mansion like a thunderclap, the scent of gunpowder thick in the air. Lucian crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Anya stood over him, her breathing ragged, the gun trembling in her hand. Damian froze, his face pale, eyes locked on his brother.
"No—!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside Lucian. His pulse was weak, skin cold. "You killed him!"
Anya didn’t flinch. "He was always the weak link."
Damian lunged at her, grabbing the gun and shoving her against the wall. "You monster!"
Anya laughed, blood-red lips curling into a smirk. "Look at you. Still playing the hero."
"I’m nothing like you," Damian snarled.
"Aren’t you?" Anya whispered. "You forged a will. You lied. You killed."
Damian’s grip on the gun tightened.
I stood, voice shaking. "Enough." I stepped between them, hands pressed against Damian’s chest. "We need to stop this."
Anya wiped imaginary dust from her dress. "Oh, detka, it’s far from over."
She reached into her pocket and tossed a yellowed envelope onto the table.
"What’s this?" I demanded.
"Viktor’s real will," she said, voice cold. "The one he wrote the night he died."
Damian stared at it like it was a bomb.
"Open it," Anya ordered.
With shaking hands, I tore it open.
The words blurred as I read them.
*"‘To my true heir,**’" I whispered, "‘the one who carries my blood and my name—’"
My breath caught.
"—Elena Volkov.’"
Silence.
I looked up, heart pounding. "Who the hell is Elena Volkov?"
Anya’s smile was slow, venomous. "Your mother."
---
Viktor’s POV (Flashback – 17 Years Ago)
The study was dark, only light from the fireplace, casting long shadows. I poured a glass of whiskey, the liquid burning as it went down.
The door creaked open.
Elena stood there, green eyes flashing with anger. "You promised, Viktor."
I didn’t look at her. "Promises are for fools."
She stepped forward, slamming a medical report onto the desk. "She’s yours."
I finally met her gaze. "She’s nothing."
"She’s your daughter," Elena hissed. "And you’ll acknowledge her."
I laughed. "Or what? You’ll tell my wife?"
Elena’s hand twitched toward the gun in my drawer. "I’ll tell the world."
I stood, voice a growl. "You threaten me in my own home?"
"I protect my child," she spat.
I grabbed her wrist, twisting. "You should’ve thought of that before you spread your legs for me."
She didn’t flinch. "I loved you."
"Love is a weakness," I sneered.
Elena yanked free. "Then you’ll die alone."
I watched her storm out, her threat hanging in the air.
Then I picked up the pen.
And wrote a new will.
---
Lena’s POV (Present)
The room spun.
"I’m—" My voice cracked. "I’m Viktor’s daughter?"
Anya nodded. "And Damian’s half-sister."
Damian staggered back, face white. "No. No."
"Oh, yes," Anya purred. "Viktor hid you. Protected you. Because you were the only one he ever loved."
I clutched the paper, hands shaking. "This is a lie."
"Is it?" Anya stepped closer. "Why do you think Damian was so obsessed with you? Why he couldn’t let you go?"
Damian looked at me, eyes haunted. "Lena—"
"You knew," I accused.
"I suspected," he admitted, voice raw. "But I didn’t know."
Anya laughed. "He knew. He just didn’t want to admit it."
I backed away, mind racing. "This changes nothing."
"It changes everything," Anya corrected. "You’re not just some pawn, Lena. You’re the heir to this empire."
Damian reached for me. "Lena, please—"
I slapped his hand away. "Don’t touch me."
Anya smiled. "Now you understand, detka. The game was never about Damian or Lucian."*
"It was about me," I whispered.
"Always," Anya confirmed.
The front door burst open.
Armed men flooded the room, guns drawn.
Anya raised her hands, smirking. "Ah. Right on time."
The leader stepped forward—a tall, cold-eyed man with a scar down his cheek.
"Ms. Volkov," he said, voice icy. "The DeLuca family sends their regards."
---
Damian’s POV
Everything was crashing down.
Lena—my Lena—was Viktor’s daughter.
My half-sister.
The heir to the Volkov empire.
And I had spent years obsessing over her.
Protecting her.
Lying to her.
Anya watched me, eyes gleaming with triumph. "You lost, Damian."
I grabbed the gun from the table, pressing it to her temple. "I should kill you."
"Go ahead," she dared. "But you’ll never find out who betrayed Viktor."
"I don’t care," I growled.
"You should," Anya whispered. "Because it wasn’t me."
The DeLuca soldiers closed in, guns trained on us.
Lena stood between me and them, voice steady. "Put the gun down, Damian."
"They’ll kill us," I hissed.
"Not if we surrender," she said, eyes meeting mine.
I hesitated.
Anya laughed. "Oh, syn. You never knew when to quit."*
The leader of the DeLuca men stepped forward. "Drop the weapon."
I didn’t move.
Lena turned to me, expression unreadable. "Trust me."
For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do.
Then—
A gunshot.
Blood sprayed the wall.
Anya collapsed, eyes wide with shock.
Lena stood there, smoke curling from the gun in her hand.
"I told you," she said, voice cold. "I’m done being a pawn."
- Writer
