Unmoved, he declared, “You want a divorce? Fine. I’ll give it to you. But don’t ever expect to see Sofia again.”
He wiped his hands casually on a bodyguard’s suit as though cleaning off dirt, then pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant.
“Get the police involved and find out where Alessandra has hidden Sofia,” he ordered coldly. “Have the lawyer prepare divorce documents immediately. I’m taking full custody of my daughter.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before a hesitant voice answered.
“Don Volkov… Sofia has already passed away. She was cremated. The accident happened the night you attended the banquet with Ms. Vega. She was struck by a motorcycle.”
The voice faltered before continuing, “We were unable to reach you at the time. I arranged a burial plot on Mrs. Volkov’s instructions. Today is the day of the interment.”
Silence fell heavy in the hallway, thick as the ashes still clinging to my skin.
