The Genius Heiress They Tried To Break

Elena POV

I had buried myself in the server room, deep within the subterranean levels of the Russo headquarters.

It was the only sanctuary I had left. The monotonous hum of the cooling fans provided a wall of white noise, a desperate attempt to drown out the lingering echo of Luca’s voice. I sat in the dark, watching the blue status LEDs blink in the blackness like cold, indifferent stars.

My phone was powered down. I didn't want to hear them. I didn't want to know. All I wanted was to survive until Friday.

The sharp beep of the electronic lock shattered the silence.

I didn't look up. I didn't have to. Only two people possessed the override code: me, and him.

Luca walked in. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered to life, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. He looked immaculate, as always. Not a hair out of place, his suit tailored to within an inch of its life. He certainly didn't look like a man who was preparing to gut his fiancée.

"There you are," he said, his voice smooth as he closed the heavy door behind him. "You’re missing the cocktail hour."

I didn't answer. I kept my gaze fixed on the keyboard in front of me, studying the letters as if they held the secrets of the universe.

He walked over, the click of his shoes distinct on the anti-static floor, and placed a hand on the back of my chair. He leaned down, his breath warm and terrifying against my ear.

"I need a favor, Elena."

I typed a nonsense command into the terminal just to keep my hands moving. Just to prove to myself that they weren't shaking.

"What kind of favor?" I asked, my voice sounding flat, detached.

"Sofia is struggling," he said. "The pressure from the Commission is weighing on her. She needs a win."

He paused, waiting for me to offer my help. I remained silent.

"I want you to transfer the Fission Algorithm to her name," he said.

He said it so casually. As if he were asking me to pass the salt at dinner.

"Transfer it?" I repeated, the words tasting like ash. "That code is my intellectual property. It is my doctoral thesis, Luca. It’s the only reason the Feds haven’t kicked down your front door yet."

"And you built it using Russo resources," he countered, his tone hardening instantly. "You built it while living under a roof Frank provided. You ate their food. You wore the clothes on your back because of them."

I spun the chair around, the wheels screeching against the floor, to face him.

"I paid for that food with blood, Luca!" I snapped. "I laundered forty million dollars for this family. I took a bullet in the shoulder for Dante two years ago. I have paid my debt in full."

Luca sighed, looking at me with a weary disappointment. As if I were a petulant child throwing a tantrum over a toy.

"It’s just code, Elena. You can write more. But Sofia... she doesn't have your mind. She can’t do what you do. She needs this protection."

"Protection?" I stood up, my legs trembling. "You’re asking me to give her my mind. You’re asking me to let her wear my achievements like she wears my old clothes."

"It’s a small sacrifice," he said, stepping into my personal space. He reached out, his fingers brushing my temple to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I flinched as if burned.

His hand froze in mid-air. His eyes narrowed into slits.

"Do you even have a heart?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Or is there just a calculator ticking away in your chest?"

He slammed his hand down onto the metal desk. The sound ricocheted through the small room like a gunshot.

"Enough, Elena!" he barked. "You are being selfish. You are the strong one. You are the survivor. Why can’t you just carry her a little longer?"

"Because you are breaking my back!" I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat.

He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my skin, forcing me to look up at him. His grip was tight, bordering on painful.

"If you do this," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, "I will make sure Frank stops riding you. I will ensure your position in the family is secure. Consider it... a dowry."

A dowry.

The word hung in the cold air.

He was selling my brain to buy peace for his new favorite toy.

I looked into his eyes. The eyes I used to dream about, the eyes I used to pray would look at me with love. There was nothing there now but cold calculation.

"No," I said.

He stared at me, stunned silence stretching between us. I had never said no to him. Not once in eleven years.

I pushed his hand away from my face.

"I won’t do it, Luca."

He straightened his jacket, smoothing the lapels as his face settled into a mask of absolute ice.

"We’ll see about that," he said.

He turned on his heel and walked out, the door clicking shut, leaving me alone with the humming machines.

He thought he could pressure me. He thought he could break me.

He didn't realize that with those words, he had just severed the last cable tethering me to this dock.