Page 247 of Money Reigns

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It was his cross to bear, but it became a sigil for redemption and hope.

Our dream.Ourlegacy.

And now it’s gone. Traded. For me.

I never wanted that. Never wanted to be worth more than something that meant everything to him.

I close my eyes briefly, then refocus.

We’ll build something else. Honor Noah another way.

This morning, I called the city office. Left voicemails for the director of outreach. Emailed the zoning board. Asked if there’s a vacant lot next to Beaumont Luxe we could redevelop. A shelter. A creative arts space. Something bright and safe with Noah’s name etched in the foundation.

But none of it stops the anger from curdling in my gut.

This is Maksim Korsakov’s fault.

That Bratva asshole.

I don’t care what “territory” means in their world. I care that War had to trade our dream for my family’s safety because that man wanted the Parker Building like a damn trophy.

I type his name into the search bar again, fists clenched.

Colorful hair?Really?

What kind of mobster runs an empire looking like a reject from clown college?

Snake bites through his lip. Ink down his throat. A permanent smirk that makes me want to throw my coffee at the screen.

I click through a few articles. One about The Gilded Ace… his casino, all glass and gold and debauchery.

Another about Exile, some high-profile club in the city I’ve definitely heard of, but never went.

And then I see it.

Smash and Sugar.

Myfavoritebakery.

“No,” I whisper.“No. No no no—come on.”

Nothing is sacred!

I keep scrolling.

Property deeds, shell companies, all funneling back to Korsakov Holdings.

Do these bastards owneverythingin this city?

I huff and yank my hair into a messy bun.

I need more. Need to know why he wanted the Parker Building. What he’s planning.

Maybe I can find leverage.

Maybe I can steal it back.

I open a new tab and pull up an old shortcut.

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