“Ah, the prodigal bastard returns,” the man sneered, taking a sip of his red wine.
“Olga, this is your half-brother, Silas,” Elias introduced them without looking up from his steak. “Silas, the sister you never wanted.”
Silas looked Olga up and down, his lip curling in disgust. “I heard you grew up in a trailer park with Jack Vance. I’m surprised you know which fork to use.”
Olga took her seat slowly. She recognized Silas immediately. He was Blake Vance, but with billions of dollars and a license to kill. He was arrogant, deeply insecure, and threatened by her presence.
“I grew up learning how to read financial statements, Silas,” Olga said smoothly, picking up her wine glass. “Which is why I know that insulting the only person at this table with an IQ over room temperature is a poor investment.”
Silas’s hand tightened violently around his crystal glass. “Watch your mouth, you little—”
“Enough,” Elias’s voice cracked like a whip. Silas instantly snapped his mouth shut, though his eyes burned with lethal hatred.
Elias wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and looked at Olga. “In three weeks, you turn twenty-nine. On that day, you will sign over the biometric rights to the Rostova Trust, integrating your mother’s ten billion dollars back into my syndicate. Until then, you are my guest.”
“And if I don't sign?” Olga asked.
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Elias smiled, and it was the most terrifying thing Olga had ever seen. “Then Julian will slowly remove your fingers until you do. Enjoy your meal.”
👉 Later that night, as Olga paced her locked bedroom, she heard the faint click of her door unlocking, only to find Silas standing in the darkness with a silenced pistol aimed directly at her chest.
“Elias needs you alive until your birthday,” Silas whispered, stepping into Olga’s moonlit bedroom. He raised the suppressed barrel of the gun, pointing it squarely at her heart. “But I don't. If you die before you turn twenty-nine, the Rostova Trust legally defaults to the next blood heir. Me.”
Olga didn't scream. She didn't beg. She stood perfectly still, her mind moving at a thousand miles an hour. Silas was impulsive. He was acting out of greed and fear.
“If you pull that trigger, Elias will know,” Olga said, her voice eerily calm. “Julian’s guards are stationed at the end of the hall. The cameras are active. You won't make it to the elevator before your father executes you for destroying ten billion dollars.”
“I’ll say you tried to attack me,” Silas sneered, though his hand trembled slightly.
“You’re sweating, Silas,” Olga observed clinically. “You didn't think this through. You’re bleeding cash, aren't you? Your father keeps you on a tight leash, and you’ve been taking side bets you can't cover.”
Silas’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch. Olga had guessed, but the reaction confirmed it. An arrogant man in a tailored suit holding a gun was usually a man deeply in debt.
“Put the gun down, Silas,” Olga commanded softly, stepping right up to the barrel. “If you want that money, you need me alive. Let me work the ledgers. I can make you richer than Elias ever could.”
Silas stared at her, intimidated by her absolute lack of fear. Slowly, he lowered the weapon. “If you cross me, I’ll throw you off this mountain myself.” He turned and slipped back into the shadows.
The next morning, Olga didn't hide. She walked directly into Elias’s grand study.
Elias was reviewing a tablet, Julian standing silently by the fireplace. “I didn't summon you,” Elias said coldly.
“You’re losing money,” Olga stated, dropping a heavily annotated printout onto his desk. It was a breakdown of the syndicate’s public shell companies she had researched before her flight. “Your offshore routing is sloppy. Your laundering margins are bleeding three percent to middlemen. You have a rat in your logistics department.”
Elias finally looked up, genuinely intrigued. “And you deduced this from public filings?”
“I put my last family in federal prison using public filings,” Olga reminded him flatly. “You want my mother’s ten billion? Fine. I’ll sign the papers on my birthday. But for the next three weeks, give me terminal access to your financial network. Let me clean up your ledgers.”
Julian frowned. “Sir, giving her mainframe access is an immense security risk.”
Elias studied Olga’s face, seeing the exact same ruthless ambition he possessed. He thought she was trying to win his favor. He thought she wanted a place in the empire.
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“Give her a restricted terminal,” Elias ordered Julian. “Let’s see what the prodigy can do. But monitor every keystroke.”
👉 As Olga sat down at the high-tech terminal in the estate’s server room, she smiled coldly to herself, knowing Elias had just handed the keys to the castle to the very person who was going to burn it down.
The basement level of the Thorne estate hummed with the chilling sound of massive server towers. Olga sat in a glass-walled office, her fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard of her secure terminal.
For seven days, she played the perfect, obedient daughter.