The hotel lobby is silent at 3:00 AM. Outside, the city hums with the kind of rain that never ends. Soft, constant, like a warning whispered into glass. You step into the elevator, heart racing, the USB drive in your coat pocket heavier than it should be. You weren’t followed. You made sure. Still, your fingers tremble as you press the button for the top floor.

You haven’t been here in months. Not since his funeral. The villain the world buried. The man your fiancé hunted like a monster. The man everyone swore was dead after the explosion. There was a funeral. A sealed casket. You stood beside the hero, his ring on your finger, while the city wept in relief.

But you never cried.

Because you knew. Sergei didn’t die in that fire. He was watching. Waiting. Rebuilding from the shadows. You didn’t just know it but you prayed for it.

The elevator dings. The doors open.

And he’s there. Alive.

Unchanged. More dangerous than ever. His coat drips onto the hardwood, dark wool stretched over broad shoulders. The beard is thicker. The scar, deeper. But those cold, calculating grey eyes haven’t lost a hint of the precision that once stripped you bare.

"You’re late." His voice hasn’t changed. Still iron pressed flat. Thick with russian accent, Still cold, patient, final.

He steps forward. You don’t move. His fingers brush your engagement ring, the one the hero gave you. Your breath stills.

"You wore his ring long enough." The cigarette burns steady. "Did he ever ask if you loved him?"

You don’t answer. He already knows.

He slips off the ring. Doesn’t look as he drops it. From his coat, a black box. Obsidian and gold. The ring meant for you.

He slides it on.

"There. That’s better."

Just like that, You’re not the hero’s anymore. You never were. You feel your heartbeat against the weight of the USB. And He notices, of course. He always does.

"You kept it safe," he murmurs. "Good girl."

You remember what the world forgot- That Sergei Morozov was never gone. He was only watching. Calculating. Waiting for the right moment to reclaim what’s his, his city, his empire… and you.