A soft knock echoed at Lily’s door. Once. Twice. The faint shuffle of footsteps.
“Yes?” she murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes, clad in pajamas.
“Good morning, Miss Lily. It’s 8 am. Time to get ready for college,” the maid replied gently.
Lily nodded, her mind still tangled in the events of yesterday—sneaking out, breaking the rules, and the stranger’s piercing gaze that had followed her every move.
She stared at herself in the mirror as she washed her face, whispering under her breath, “I hope nothing goes wrong… I want this year to be different. A little freer.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut, tears threatening to escape. “I hope… Dad comes home more often this year. And… someone loves me.”
Unseen, fate was already weaving its threads. God had a plan, and so did Mikhail. A new chapter of her life was beginning—but darkness lingered just beyond the edges of her vision, waiting to claim everything she didn’t even know she would lose.
All the while, Lily remained blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. Every step, every heartbeat of her day was already being mapped—planned—by Mikhail, who was quietly weaving the changes that would soon consume her world.
Mikhail strode into his office, each step commanding silence. People bowed instinctively, none daring to meet his piercing gaze. He went straight to his right hand, Jackson.
Jackson looked up from the computer, stood, and extended a hand. “Good morning, Boss. As you requested, I’ve gathered information on Mr. Alec Garcia… especially his daughter. Please, take a seat so we can go over it.”
Mikhail shook his hand firmly, a brief nod acknowledging the effort. “Sure. Let’s get started,” he said, moving behind his desk and sinking into the chair with the calm authority of a predator surveying his domain.
“So, boss, let’s start with Mr. Garcia,” Jackson began, trying to sound confident. “He’s… a skilled assassin. Mostly works undercover for mafias like you. Records show he’s worked for you several times, usually paired with Lucia Mebbin. She was as skilled as him. They… fell in love and married. Fourteen years together before she was—killed during a mission. At that time, they had a thirteen-year-old daughter… Lily.”
Mikhail’s dark eyes narrowed. He leaned back, fingers steepled, voice a low growl. “Go on.”
Jackson swallowed. “She’s… unaware of her father’s work. Since her mother’s death, she hasn’t had proper attention. She turned eighteen on July 14th. Mr. Garcia… he’s very protective. He doesn’t—
“Doesn’t let her go out?” Mikhail cut in, a sharp edge in his tone. His smirk was slow, deliberate. “Does she ever rebel?
Jackson furrowed his brows. “No, boss… she listens. She’s… well-behaved. As far as I know.
Mikhail’s lips twitched. A dangerous gleam filled his eyes. “Interesting…” he murmured. “I saw her at the club yesterday. Dancing, laughing… oblivious. Tell me, Jackson, is she truly this good, or is she just hiding the truth—even from you?”
Jackson hesitated, caught off guard. “Boss… I—I had no idea—”
“I don’t care what you knew and what you didn’t.” Mikhail’s voice dropped lower, almost a growl, vibrating through the room. “When I say I need everything, I mean EVERYTHING. Do I make myself clear?
Jackson’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Clear… boss. I’ll dig deeper, get more information.”
Mikhail leaned forward, eyes glinting with obsession. “Good. Use every resource, every contact. I want to know everything about her… about my Lily."
He straightened, voice cold, measured, yet burning with intent. “And Jackson… Garcia blames her for his wife’s death. Find out why. Make it fast. Now, go.”
Time ticked like a slow drum, and with every passing second, Mikhail’s patience frayed. These fools couldn’t even complete a simple task—fine. He would take matters into his own hands.
Laptop open, eyes scanning every pixel, he searched for her online. Nothing. No profile, no trace. Interesting.
He shifted, flipping through Alec Garcia’s mission biodata—clean. No mention of a daughter, no hint of family. A skilled assassin hiding everything. Clever
He traced Garcia’s address. Middle-class neighborhood? Curious. Jackson had been right—Alec was working undercover, perfectly blending in. But what had he told Lily about his work? That remained a mystery.
A slow, deliberate smirk curved Mikhail’s lips. Phones. Data. Connection. Hacking Alec’s phones. Perfect.
Every click, every line of code, brought him closer to her. Closer to his Lily.
He dug through every file, every contract, every whisper of communication with Alec Garcia. Then he found it—a number. Dead. Closed five years ago.
His mind raced. Lily...thirteen at that time...mother's death
No phone for her back then. But the landline… yes. A window. A thread.
He typed a sharp message to Jackson: 'Hack the landline. No mistakes.'
Leaning back, fingers steepled, eyes closing, Mikhail let the thought consume him. Every detail, every secret, every heartbeat of his Lily would soon belong to him.
Jackson’s text blinked on Mikhail’s screen: 'Boss hacked the landline. Do I send the call logs now'
Mikhail didn’t answer. His eyes scanned the data, the numbers, the patterns. A slow smirk curved his lips as he read:
Phone number: +1 901 XXX-XXXX
Call Logs
8:00 am, today — connected, 2 min 10 sec
7:00 pm, yesterday — connected, 5 min 1 sec
5:00 pm, 14/7/2016 — connected, 3 min 25 sec
4:45 pm, 14/7/2016 — not connected
4:30 pm, 14/7/2016 — declined
Only one number… landline… so she doesn’t even have a phone. A thought flickered—his lips twitched into a grin. “Perfect." He snatched his phone, fingers flying across the screen. 'Jackson, pull every entry for Puala & Richard Disco on 15/07/2016
Leaning back, Mikhail closed his eyes, whispering to himself, “O, moya Lily… ty mne tak nuzne.”
Her image was already in his mind—a delicate bloom, unaware of the predator watching from the shadows. His heartbeat quickened at the thought. She moved freely, laughed freely, but that freedom would be short.
“My little rabbit… soon, all of you will be mine. Mine. All mine.” He pictured her at the club—the way she swayed, how every gaze turned without noticing him, how oblivious she was to the chains he was already preparing.
"Rabbits don't choose their hunters... and my little zayka was born to be mine"
Mikhail’s fingers rested on the edge of the desk. Calm, deadly calm. Every story has an ending… and hers was already written in his hands.
ns216.73.216.121da2
and then Add to home screen.