My knees gave out.
The tablet slipped from my hands and crashed onto the floor.
“No,” I whispered.
The photograph stared back at me.
My boys.
The same smiles.
The same eyes.
The same matching birthmark on Ethan’s cheek.
Impossible.
I had buried them.
I remembered the tiny coffins.
The flowers.
The tears.
The endless darkness that followed.
“They died,” I said, my voice breaking.
Matteo’s expression remained grim.
“That’s what someone wanted you to believe.”
The cabin spun around me.
“What are you talking about?”
He motioned for me to sit.
When I didn’t move, he spoke anyway.
“Three months ago, your husband owed money to people far worse than me.”
My stomach dropped.
“He sold information. Identities. Children.”
The words hit like bullets.
“No…”
“He staged the deaths.”
I felt physically sick.
Every memory of my husband twisted into something unrecognizable.
“The funeral was fake,” Matteo continued. “The documents were forged. The bodies were never your sons.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“Where are they?”
Matteo was silent for a moment.
Then he answered.
“I found them two weeks ago.”
The entire world stopped.
“You found them?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
His eyes darkened.
“Because the people who took them are hunting my daughter too.”
I looked down at the sleeping baby in my arms.
Suddenly everything made sense.
The armed guards.
The private jet.
The fear hidden behind Matteo’s power.
His daughter wasn’t just his child.
She was a target.
And somehow my sons were connected.
Matteo stepped closer.
For the first time, his voice softened.
“I spent months protecting them.”
My heart hammered.
“You’ve seen my boys?”
A rare smile touched his face.
“Every day.”
Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Take me to them.”
Matteo looked out the window at the endless darkness beyond the clouds.
Then back at me.
“You don’t understand, Elena.”
The softness vanished from his expression.
“The moment you see them again…”
He glanced at the sleeping baby.
“…you become part of my war.”
Before I could answer, the cockpit door burst open.
A pilot stumbled into the cabin, pale with terror.
“Mr. Volkov!”
Every guard reached for his weapon.
The pilot pointed toward the windshield.
“We’ve got company.”
Matteo moved forward.
I followed.
Outside, emerging from the storm clouds beside the jet, was a black military aircraft.
Its weapons were armed.
Its target locks were active.
And painted across its side was a symbol Matteo recognized immediately.
The same symbol appearing in the files connected to my sons.
Matteo’s face turned deadly calm.
“They found us.”
The enemy had come.
And they were willing to bring down an entire plane to get what they wanted.
