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Chapter 56: For now.

Author: Leeyah
last update publish date: 2026-07-05 04:17:58

Tristan

The moment the jet touches down in New York, the cabin door hasn't even finished opening before I'm already walking out.

Cold air slams into my face.

Black SUVs wait in a perfect line across the private runway, and more than thirty men stand beside them.

Every single one lowers his head. No one speaks; the atmosphere itself feels wrong.

Too quiet, too tense—because they all know something has happened to my wife.

Dmitry falls into step beside me. “Every private airstrip has be
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  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 56: For now.

    Tristan The moment the jet touches down in New York, the cabin door hasn't even finished opening before I'm already walking out. Cold air slams into my face. Black SUVs wait in a perfect line across the private runway, and more than thirty men stand beside them. Every single one lowers his head. No one speaks; the atmosphere itself feels wrong. Too quiet, too tense—because they all know something has happened to my wife. Dmitry falls into step beside me. “Every private airstrip has been alerted. Every harbor is being watched. We’ve contacted our people in the neighboring states.” I don't respond; instead, I walk as though the entire ground is trembling beneath my feet. The convoy speeds out of the airport, not toward the penthouse but the cafe. Throughout the ride, I stare out the window, every passing street tightening my chest. She has been here—breathing this air, walking these roads. Then, nothing. No trace, no body, no ransom—nothing. The SUV stops. Before the dr

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 55: Goodbye.

    Roxana Morning arrives long before I'm ready for it. I never really slept. Every sound outside the motel roused me. Car door, footsteps, sirens. Voice drifting through the paper-thin walls. Every noise sounded like Tristan had found me, and every shadow beneath the door looked like one of his men. By sunrise, exhaustion settles so deeply into my bones that I no longer know if I'm afraid or simply numb. The chair is still wedged under the doorknob, and I stare at it for a long time. Nobody came, not yet. Slowly, I stand from the bed, my body protesting immediately. My eyes burn, my muscles ache. I shuffle toward the bathroom and splash cold water across my face. The woman staring at me from the cracked mirror barely looks alive—red eyes, swollen lips, and dark hair falling over trembling shoulders. With a wedding ring that catches the pale morning light. Mrs. Roxana Kozlov. I hate that name now. Not because of him, but because of what it represents. A transaction. A signatur

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 54: I did it.

    Roxana I don’t know how long we’ve been driving—five minutes? Twenty? An hour? Time has lost all meaning. The taxi weaves through unfamiliar streets while I remain curled against the window, each passing black SUV making my heart leap into my throat. They're coming. The thought won't leave me. They’re going to find me. I glance behind us again. Nothing. Just regular traffic, but I keep looking again and again. The driver notices in the rearview mirror, “Someone following you?” My whole body stiffens. “What?” “You’ve been looking behind us since we got in.” I force my voice to stay steady. “No.” He studies me for another second then shrugs. “Alright.” I press my forehead against the cold glass. Liar. Fucking liar. I'm terrified. Every second I expect my phone to light up, even though I’ve turned it off. Tristan. I imagine his voice, “Where are you?” “Come home.” Home. The word almost makes me burst out laughing. I don't have one. Not anymore. My fingers tighten around my

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 53: My wife.

    Tristan The word refuses to leave my head. Home. Rain lashes across the shattered windows of the warehouse, and blood pools beneath my boots. It’s already evening, yet nothing significant seems to come out of the investigation. Belladonna did everything perfectly. The thought alone makes uneasiness crawl up my skin. My gaze darts toward the dead man on the floor for the hundredth time today. His eyes remain lifeless and fixed on the ceiling. I wish we had gathered enough information before he died; instead, he only uttered one word: home. I pull my phone from my pocket to dial Texas’s number. Just then, my phone rings, and her name flashes across the screen. My stomach tightens. Texas doesn't call me when I'm away unless it’s extremely important. I press yes and put the phone to my ear. “What?” Silence—not complete silence, just hard breathing—then, “Tristan….” My girl tightens around the phone; something is wrong. “Talk.” “ I……” her body breaks, “Roxana…” Every muscle i

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 52: Different men. Same transaction.

    Roxana Morning arrives mercilessly. I don’t even remember falling asleep; I only remember crying until my body had nothing left to give. When sunlight slips into the room, my eyes burn so badly I can barely open them—my head pounds. Every part of me feels heavy, as if someone replaced my bones with stones. For several long seconds, I just lie there, then my gaze drifts to the other side of the bed—empty. His pillow remains untouched. I stare at it until my vision blurs again. “You should have come home,” I whisper. The words sting my eyes with fresh tears. Because if he were here… I could ask him. I could throw those documents in his face and demand an explanation. I could force him to tell me I was wrong, that there was another reason. Another truth. Anything. Anything apart from what my mind is feeding me right now. A soft knock breaks the silence—three gentle taps. “Roxana.” Texas. I quickly wipe my face before responding, “Come in.” The door opens slowly, and Texas w

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 51: A debt.

    Roxana Sleeping is difficult; I close my eyes and then reopen them, but the ceiling above me never changes. Neither does the ache in my chest. The room is dark, except for the pale glow of city lights filtering through the curtains. Tristan’s side of the bed remains untouched—cold, empty. I curl closer to the pillow he used two nights ago; it still carries the faint scent of his cologne. Without thinking, I pull it against my chest. The tears come again, quietly this time. I don't sob or scream; I quietly cry until the pillow grows damp beneath my cheek. Every time I close my eyes, I see the document. Twenty million euros. Settlement proposal: marriage between Roxana Petrov and Tristan Kozlov. Marco’s signature. Tristan’s signature. Permanent. I squeeze my eyes shut. “No,” the word leaves my lips as a whisper. “There has to be another explanation.” But every explanation I think of dies before it can comfort me. My mind betrays me, replaying every moment I’ve s

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 12: Am I dead?

    Roxana Am I dead? I'm surrounded by blackness so thick it pulls at my heart. My entire body feels numb. I try to lift my arm, but it's stuck; my legs too. As I lie there, I feel something—the pounding of my heart. Am I alive? No way. He just pulled the trigger at my chest. Isn't that why I'm e

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 11: What man builds himself this way?

    Roxana Wait, did he just threaten to kill my entire family? I blink my eyes a few times, hoping I’m seeing things but he’s still kneeling in front of me with so much anger emanating from the depths of his green eyes. Panic claws at my chest. I’d rather he kill me than find out the truth or h

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 10: Strip.

    Roxana I expected him to enter a terrifying room filled with strange, bizarre objects, given what I had just seen outside. I even prepared myself for it, but the room he enters makes my jaw drop. Tristan carries me into a huge master bedroom decorated with luxurious furniture and designs, and I a

  • Claimed by havoc    Chapter 9: You will find out soon.

    Roxana My breath catches in my throat. Am I hallucinating? What kind of horror movie is this? Someone should wake me up, please. I pinch myself to be sure I'm not losing my mind, and a sharp pain tingles where I pinched, confirming I am here. Not hallucinating. Not dreaming. My eyes flick to

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