Three days later, the world shifted.

I was in my office, reviewing contracts, when Julian barged in—no knock, no greeting, just fury carved into his face. My brother never panicked. If he looked like this, something was wrong.

“We have a problem,” he said.

I set the papers aside. “Talk.”

“Someone left a package at the front gate,” he said. “Addressed to Mila.”

My blood froze clean.

“What kind of package?” My voice dropped, controlled only by habit.

“The threatening kind.” He slid his phone across the desk.

A white box. Black ribbon. A message scrawled in red:

The weak Ivanova bride won’t last long.

I felt something atomic go off inside me—rage, sharp and cold.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“In the library with Clara. They don’t know about it yet.”

“Good. Keep it that way for now.” I stood, every muscle tight. “Security?”

“Cameras were bypassed. Whoever did it is trained. Professional.”

So this wasn’t random.
This was deliberate.
A message.

“Triple security around Mila,” I ordered. “I want eyes on her every second. And get our contacts digging—everyone. I want a name.”

Julian nodded once, jaw set. “One more thing. We x-rayed the box. There’s something… organic.”

A warning. Classic. My mind supplied the answer long before he spoke it.

Dead. Something small. Helpless.

“And we don’t open it until I’m there,” I said. “Find the bastard who thinks threatening my wife is a game. When I get my hands on them—”

“They’ll wish they never touched our gate,” Julian finished.

Exactly.

I walked out, already moving toward Mila, rage burning under my skin like gunfire waiting for a trigger.

Clara had just made a joke about the way Sebastian alphabetizes his books when I saw him in the doorway. My smile died instantly.

His expression was stone. Cold. Like he carried a storm beneath his ribs.

“Sebastian?” I whispered. “What happened?”

“Clara, give us a minute,” he said without looking away from me.

She hesitated, then slipped out, closing the door behind her.

He walked toward me and knelt beside my wheelchair, his hands taking mine—warm but trembling. Sebastian never trembled.

Fear crawled up my spine.

“What happened?”

He exhaled slowly, as if controlling the words.

“There was a package at the gate. Addressed to you,” he said. “A threat.”

My heart dropped. “What kind of threat?”

“The kind that says they know you’re here,” he said. “The kind meant to scare you.”

“What did it say?”

His jaw clenched before he forced the words out.

“The weak Ivanova bride won’t last long.”

It hit like a punch. Weak. Just like they saw me. Just like my father did.

My eyes burned. I looked down.

His fingers caught my chin gently, guiding my gaze up.

“Don’t,” he murmured. “Don’t believe that.”

“But it’s true,” I whispered. “I can’t walk. I can’t protect myself. I—”

“Mila.” His voice cut through everything. “You survived twelve years in a house that suffocated you. You wake up every day in a world that pretends you’re fragile and you keep going anyway. That isn’t weakness. That’s strength most people never touch.”

My throat tightened. “But I’m a liability to you.”

“You’re my wife,” he said, eyes burning. “Not a liability. A reason.”

A reason to wage war. A reason to protect.

“What now?” I asked.

“Now we find whoever sent it and make them regret breathing,” he said. “Security around you is going up. You don’t step outside this house without me or Julian. No negotiations.”

Normally I would argue—freedom mattered to me more than anything. But the fear behind his calm was real.

He was scared of losing me.

So I nodded. “Okay.”

Some tension eased from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“One thing,” I said. “Don’t do something reckless. Don’t get yourself killed protecting me.”

He held my gaze. “I won’t promise that.”

“Seb—”

“If it cost me my life to keep you safe, I’d pay it,” he said simply.

My heart stuttered. Dangerous. Beautiful.

“You’re insane,” I whispered.

He smiled, barely. “You make me insane.”

I couldn’t even deny it—I smiled too.

He stood. “Come. I’m moving you to a more secure room.”

“More secure than the one you already obsessively set up?”

He smirked faintly. “This one has bulletproof walls and its own ventilation. A panic-room suite.”

“You have a panic-room… bedroom?”

“I have several.” He moved behind me to push my chair. “In my world, we prepare for war.”

He wasn’t being dramatic.
He was being literal.

The secure room sat behind reinforced doors on the third floor. I built it years ago for worst-case scenarios. I never thought Mila would be the reason I opened it.

“This is where I’ll sleep?” she asked softly.

“Where we’ll both sleep,” I corrected. “Separate beds. But I’m not leaving you alone. Not now.”

Her eyes softened. “Okay.”

Relief hit me harder than any bullet ever could.

A knock. Julian.

“We opened the box,” he said.

Mila stiffened. I hated that she had to hear this.

“What was inside?” she whispered.

I swallowed hard. “A dead bird. And… a bullet with your name carved into it.”

She went pale, but didn’t cry. Just breathed, slow and shaky.

“They won’t get to you,” I said. “Not while I’m alive.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m going to kill anyone who tries.”

I meant it. She knew I did.

“Lock the door behind me. No one enters except me or Julian.”

She nodded. I left before instinct forced me to hold her instead of hunt.

The door clicked shut. Silence swallowed the room.

A dead bird.
A bullet with my name.

Someone out there wanted me gone.
Or wanted Sebastian to fear losing me.

It worked.

My hands shook as I wheeled toward the window—guards everywhere now. Armed. Alert.

Protected but caged.

Alive, but scared.

Maybe being brave wasn’t the absence of fear.
Maybe it was surviving through it.

A gentle knock jolted me.

“Mila? It’s Clara.”

I checked the peephole the way Sebastian taught me. Then opened the door.

She hugged me instantly. “Are you okay?”

“Scared,” I admitted. “But okay.”

“That’s valid.” She squeezed my shoulders. “Just know—this family is going to burn the city down before they let someone touch you.”

My chest tightened. “Why? I’m… I’ve only been here a week.”

Her eyes softened.

“Because you’re one of us now. Family isn’t blood here—it’s loyalty.”

Family.
A word that once tasted like longing.
Now tasted like hope.

Down in the war room, everyone waited for my orders.

Julian. Damien. Our best men. Armed. Angry.

“Tell me what we know,” I demanded.

Julian pulled up footage. A two-second camera distortion at 3:47 AM. Clean, precise.

“Hacked,” he said. “Professionally.”

“So whoever did this knew our system,” Damien said. “Could be Sokolov. Volkov. Maybe—”

“Ivanov,” Julian finished quietly.

Silence.

My jaw locked at the name.

“He might’ve done it to retaliate,” Julian said. “He lost the contract. You humiliated him in his own house.”

“He wouldn’t threaten his own daughter,” Damien muttered.

I knew better.

Dimitri Ivanov never loved Mila. She was leverage. Failure. Burden.

“He would,” I said. “If it meant hurting me.”

“We check his movements, his men, all Ivanov operations,” I ordered. “If he’s behind this…”

Julian met my eyes. “You’ll start a war.”

“I’ll end one.”

No one argued.

Because they all knew—
I will destroy anyone who touches her.

I left the war room, one thought loud in my skull:

Get back to Mila. Keep her safe.
Everything else can burn.

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