<b>Chapter </b><b>90 </b>


    That night passed fasten than linpected


    But not because it was light may forgettable. No if anything, it passed fat because my brain i


    thought led to another, every anayei cked open mare questions. Trouldn’t catch a breath, couldn’t find the nina befaren thoughts.


    How had no one ever figured it out?


    How had everyone missed the fact that I’d been switched at bith?” –


    How did my biological mother not even realize that the baby she held if she held her at


    won’t her om hlbo


    Was it drugs? The traumal or was there something even darker going on?


    And aber Sergei left, I couldn’t help but keep circling back to the same pi


    za.


    Could even believe him?


    He was Mafia. Not just affiliated but Sergei Morozov, one of the top names in the underworld of Velhaven. A man that didn’t deal in truth. He dirat


    in convenience. In maniption. In threats and leverage and things that looked like generosity but were really just fonts.


    So when he said my mother overdosed… did she?


    Or did he liet


    1 had no idea anymore.


    And worse every time my thoughts started to drift in that direction, they inevitably took a sharp turn straight into him.


    Niki


    <b>Was </b>he thinking about me right now?


    Oh God. No. Stop.


    I literally shook my head as if trying to dislodge the thought physically. I couldn’t afford to go there. Not again. Because I’d realized–over thestw hours that the moment I started thinking about Nik I couldn’t stop.


    It was like falling into a current. One second I’d be standing on the shore, the next I’d be drowning in the memory of his voice, his hands, his eyes. The soft way he said Malishka, the way his fingertips traced circles over my spine in bed, how hisughter sounded just before he lost control.


    Malishka


    The nickname echoed in my skull like a ghost. I’d known what it meant the moment I heard it. It wasn’t <b>just </b>a <b>pet </b>name–it was a Russian endearment. almost childlike in tenderness, Like baby, Sweetheart <b>Soft</b>.


    And now it felt like mockery.


    Like every beautiful thing he gave me had been carved <b>from </b>a lie.


    I sucked in a breath and pushed myself to my festi


    My head throbbied. I hadn’t slept properlyst right, and the <b>consequences </b>were catching up with me–my temples pulsed like <b>a </b>v felt heavy<b>, </b>sluggish.


    looked toward the closed door of my mother’s bedroom.


    she’d left early.


    I could tell from the half–follte mug sitting cold in the sink, the quietness of the apartment, theck of movement beyond the was


    the hadn’t even woked me up,


    That was a first. She was really mad at ine.


    The ache that bloomed in my chest then was different. Not like heartbreak. Not like betrayal, Just…emptiness, A quiet grief that I couldn’t shake off Because my circle had never beenrge–just a handful of people who mattered. And right now, the most important one was angry with me.


    And the other?


    The one I thought might matter?


    He was probably on the other side of the city right now, in a high<b>–</b><b>rise </b>office, going over documents, nning acquisitions. Unbothered. Uninterested. Overit


    Over me.


    I couldn’t stop myself from questioning every second we spent together. Was it all real<b>? </b><b>Was </b>he <b>ever </b>genuine? Or had he always been ying a game?


    Every time he said Malishka<b>, </b>was it with affection or amusement?


    I wanted to believe the former. I did. Especially after I saw him cry.


    But I didn’t trust myself to know the diference anymore.


    I sat in that have for a few more minutes before finally dragging myself into the bathroom. I had sses. My routine was the only thing left that still <b>made </b>


    I showered quickly, letting the hot water <b>loosen </b>the tension from my shoulders and rinse away the weight of thest <b>twelvish </b>hours. When I stepped out, I looked in the mirror and <b>barely </b>recognized myself


    Clear eye bags, Skin sallow Eyes slightly red.


    I didn’t bother with concealer. No one gave <b>a </b>shit. Not during exam season.


    I pulled on a hoodie and jeans, slipping on mypression gloves automatically. Hair went into a ponytail, then shoved beneath the same <b>ck </b>baseball cap I’d worn the day before. It smelled like outside air and rain, Fitting


    I grabbed my <b>bag</b>. Slid my phone into my hoodie pocket. Gave the apartment onest long look.


    Then I pulled the door open, stepped out<b>, </b>and locked it behind me.


    The city met me with a grey sky, the kind that threatened rain but never followed through. I gged down a bus and climbed <b>aboard</b>, letting the rumble of the engine and the jostling of the ride <b>full </b>me <b>into </b><b>a </b><b>kind </b><b>of </b>nk state,


    By the time I reached the university, my headache had dulled–but the emotional <b>fatigue </b>hadn’t


    I slipped into <b>this </b>subject’sst ss of the semester–Advanced Materials in Automotive Design. The professor <b>was </b>already mid–rant, gesturing wildly at <b>a </b><b>slide </b>filled with graphs and tensile load equations.


    Normally, I would’ve been scribbling notes like my schrship depended on it.


    Because & did.


    But today?


    Today I just… twirled my pen it slow circles.


    I was the top student in my department. A schrship recipient. A future star in engineering, if you asked any of the faculty


    And here was, zoning outpletely.


    Ashamed wasn’t even the word. I was lost


    Hooked around the lecture hall Lazar wasn’t there. Thank god. Not surprising though. He rarely showed up unless there was a guest speaker or a first<b>. </b>In fact his attendance had recently been way too unusually good.


    Nheless, he always got by Money bought ess. Morozov money bought everything.


    He wasn’t like me.


    When the lecture finally ended, the ss erupted into motion. Students gathering bags, sliding out of rows, breaking into chatter about food, ns, stress. Some drifted toward the cafeteria. Others headed straight for the library <b>across </b>the road.


    I stood slowly. Stared at the door. Then sighed.


    I didn’t want to go home. Not yet..


    Didn’t want to eat either. My stomach still twisted anytime <b>thought </b>about food.


    Maybe I should find somewhere quiet to study. Do something productive. Reim some control.


    The university had a secondary library on the third floor of the engineering wing–a smaller one, tucked away and rarely used. I headed there, letting the familiar click of my sneakers on the tile guide me.


    As I walked, the halls grew quieter. The din of conversation faded, reced by the echo of my own movement. There was something eerie about it this stillness. This stretch of hallway where nothing moved except for me.


    Then I heard it.


    Whispers


    “Please don’t–


    A girl’s voice,


    Soft Panicked. Cut off too fast.


    My footsteps slowed. I turned my head slightly


    Another voice. <b>Male</b>. Low. Firm.


    “I don’t like it when someone’s watching.


    My heart jumped.


    I stopped walking entirely.


    What the hell?


    It wasing from the janitor’s closet just ahead–door hall<b>–</b><b>cracked </b>open. The strip of fluorescent light above it flickered faintly, the something out of a


    horror movie.


    <b>For </b>a second, thes tall.


    Maybe they were making out. Maybe it was just two students being dumb and horny in the middle of a weekday in a closet. In a university.


    I should leave. Mind my business. Go study.


    Then I heard it.


    A loud cry.


    Instinct moved before my logic could argue


    I lunged forward and shoved the door open,


    And what I <b>saw </b>beyond it made my jaw drop


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