Love Is A Different Currency

"Of course I love him. Why else would I have stayed by his side for ten years? We clawed our way out of hell together. But love and power are two different currencies. Love can numb the pain, but power is what keeps you alive. You can live without love. You die without power."

Just as I finished, my phone vibrated. Dmitri glanced at his own and reported, "Message confirmed. Your brothers in Chicago... they all met with 'accidents.'"

"Mm," I responded, my voice devoid of emotion.

Dmitri took an involuntary step forward, his voice laced with confusion. "You're... not surprised? They were your family."

A corner of my mouth twitched. "Why would I be? I arranged it."

Dmitri’s eyes widened, the color draining from his face.

I met his gaze calmly, my tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "Anyone who stands in my way will be removed. I don't care who it is. Even my own blood." I stubbed out my cigarette. "Any other questions?"

Dmitri lowered his head, not daring to utter another word.

I picked up the gun from the table and glanced toward a side room. "Nico wants Bianca to stay? Fine. Let her stay. I could use the entertainment."

Footsteps echoed from the foyer. Bianca's cloying voice drifted in, ordering Nico's men around. "Be careful! Nico bought all of these for me at auction! You couldn't afford to replace one if you dropped it!"

Her gaze swept across the opulent estate, her greed and provocation unconcealed. Then, she saw me, sitting on the sofa with my back to her, flipping through a file.

She sashayed over. "Anya. Nico said the fresh air out here would be good for me. He told me to move in so we could get to know each other. You don't mind, do you?"

Without looking up, I turned a page of the financial report, my voice flat. "I do."

Bianca hadn't expected such a blunt reply. She faltered for a second, then her laughter became even more arrogant. "Well, it doesn't matter if you do. It's an order from the Don. He said I'll be replacing you soon enough. Then I'll be the one running this house."

She walked to the liquor cabinet and picked up my personal crystal glass. "This is a lovely glass. It's mine now."

When I continued to ignore her, Bianca perched on the arm of the sofa, making a show of stroking her collarbone. "Nico said the Griffin family crest on his chest will be re-inked for me soon. Your time is over, Anya."

She snatched the document from my hand, its sharp edge slicing my finger.

Only then did I finally look up, my gaze pinning her in place as if she were already a corpse. It had been a long time since I'd met someone so eager to die.