Classicprincecj

At university, Chris is just another student—quiet, reserved, and seemingly ordinary. But behind the scenes, he’s the heir to a hidden fortune, a secret he guards fiercely.

Then there’s Skylar—a girl born into wealth, now watching her privileged world crumble as her family faces financial ruin. When she crosses paths with Chris, an unexpected connection sparks between them.

Skylar falls for him, believing he’s just a regular guy. But when her family pressures her to seek a richer suitor, Chris finds himself at a crossroads—should he reveal his true identity to fight for their love, or let her go to protect his secret?

In a world where love and wealth collide, can their relationship survive the truth?

Masked Affluence

The jet touched down at Sheremetyevo International Airport under heavy snowfall. A Russian diplomatic convoy awaited us on the tarmac—black ZIL limousines lined up like sentinels, engines humming in the cold air. Soldiers in long gray coats and fur hats stood at attention, their hands resting on their rifles.

Chris stepped out first, his long black coat billowing slightly in the icy wind. He didn't flinch at the cold, didn't react to the display of force. If anything, he looked unimpressed.

I followed, scanning the scene for potential threats. Calloway and our security detail moved in a tight formation around us, but I knew this wasn't our turf. Here, we were guests—dangerous guests, but guests nonetheless.

A familiar figure emerged from the main limousine. Sergei Petrov, Volkov's closest advisor. His graying hair was slicked back, and his face was as unreadable as ever. He approached with a practiced smile.

"President Wellington," Petrov greeted smoothly, offering a handshake.

Chris didn't move immediately. He let the silence stretch just long enough to make Petrov sweat before finally clasping his hand. "I assume Volkov is expecting me?"

Petrov nodded. "The President is eager to see you."

Without another word, we were led into the waiting limousines. As the convoy pulled away from the airport, I glanced at Chris. He looked completely at ease, but I knew better. His mind was already five steps ahead, calculating every possible move Volkov might make.

Russia wasn't like Nigeria. Volkov wasn't a man who could be easily intimidated. This meeting wouldn't be about power—it would be about dominance.

And in Moscow, the rules were different.

Chapter 207: Moscow’s Shadow