Chapter 19 – An Unexpected Betrayal

The days in the countryside had been nothing short of surreal.

Anastasia had spent her whole life walking on eggshells, trying to survive in a world that never gave her room to breathe.

But here—away from the flashing cameras, away from the suffocating expectations, away from the ruthless whispers of high society—she could finally breathe.

And more than anything, she could finally see him.

Leonidas had always been an enigma—an untouchable force, a man who operated with such unwavering control that it made her feel like she was nothing more than a piece in his grand game of power.

But out here, beneath the open sky, dressed casually in a white linen shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he leaned against the wooden fence of his vineyard, he didn't look like a ruthless billionaire.

He looked like a man.

A man who had built something from nothing.

A man who had spent his whole life fighting battles no one else could see.

A man who, despite his cold demeanor, had the capacity for gentleness—even if he rarely showed it.

She watched him from a distance, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow on his sharp features.

He wasn't smiling.

He rarely did.

But there was something in his expression—something quiet, something contemplative—that made her stomach twist in ways she wasn't ready to face.

She had told herself not to fall.

Had reminded herself over and over again that this was a dangerous game to play.

But the more time she spent with him, the more she saw beyond the reputation, beyond the power, beyond the control—

The more she realized she already had.

And that terrified her.

Because men like Leonidas Nikoladis didn't just walk away from things they wanted.

And God help her, he wanted her.

The letter arrived without warning.

A simple white envelope, placed neatly on the wooden table in the grand entry hall.

Anastasia had been outside, watching Leonidas speak with one of his estate managers when a maid approached her, holding the letter with both hands.

"Madam," the woman said softly, "this was sent for you."

Anastasia blinked, surprised.

A letter?

For her?

No one wrote letters anymore.

Not in this world.

Her stomach twisted as she took the envelope, her fingers tracing the familiar handwriting scrawled across the front.

She knew this handwriting.

Knew it too well.

Her heart pounded as she carefully unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning the words.

And the moment she read them—

Her breath caught.

"Ana,

I don't know where you are or what he's told you, but you don't belong there.

Come back. We can fix this. You don't have to stay with him.

Please, come home.

Father would have wanted you to.

—Your brother."

Her hands started trembling.

She read the letter once.

Then twice.

Then a third time, as if somehow, the words would change.

But they didn't.

They stayed the same.

Her brother.

The same brother who hadn't bothered to fight for her when their father had abandoned her.

The same brother who had stood by and watched as she was forced into a world she wasn't prepared for.

And now—now, after all this time—he wanted her back?

Her vision blurred, a lump forming in her throat.

Where had this concern been before?

Before Leonidas.

Before she had been left with nothing.

Before she had been forced to build a life that wasn't her own.

Her fingers clenched around the paper, her mind racing with a thousand conflicting thoughts.

She didn't hear him approach.

Not until she felt a shadow fall over her.

Not until she felt him.

The moment she turned—she knew.

Leonidas had seen the letter.

And worse?

He already knew what it said.

Of course he did.

Because Leonidas always knew everything.

His dark eyes were unreadable, but there was something about the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, that made her stomach drop.

And then—calmly, quietly, in a voice that sent shivers down her spine—

"Are you going to leave?"

Her chest tightened.

She should have answered immediately.

Should have told him no.

Should have reassured him that she had no intention of leaving.

But she didn't.

Because she didn't know what she wanted anymore.

Leonidas saw it.

Saw everything.

The hesitation.

The conflict.

And his expression darkened.

"You're actually considering it."

It wasn't a question.

It was a statement.

Her throat felt dry.

"I—I don't know what to do."

Leonidas exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for the briefest second before stepping closer.

Too close.

Close enough that she could feel his warmth, close enough that his presence wrapped around her like something dangerous.

His voice was lower now.

More controlled.

More lethal.

"You think they care?"

She flinched.

His eyes burned into hers, sharp and unforgiving.

"Where were they when you had nothing?" he continued, his voice cold, calculated. "Where were they when you were alone?"

She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the letter.

She didn't have an answer.

Because he was right.

They had left her.

Hadn't fought for her.

Hadn't even tried.

Leonidas' hand suddenly reached out, his fingers tilting her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

"Look at me," he murmured.

She did.

And for the first time, she saw something in his eyes that she hadn't been ready for.

Not anger.

Not control.

Not even possession.

But something raw.

Something unshakable.

"You belong with me, Anastasia," he said, his voice softer this time.

Not a demand. Not an order. Almost a plea.

A simple, undeniable truth.

Her breath stilled.

Her heart pounded.

Because deep down—no matter how much she tried to fight it—

She knew he was right.