The days turned into weeks which bled into months. Winter had bled into spring, calling forth clear skies and blooming trees.

The city eventually came to peace and I was at the centre of all of it, holding all the puppet strings and cutting the ones that were useless to me.

I thought I was going to lose my mind during that time. Taking apart Zoya's operations was a hassle. We had his ports and some of his buildings, it should've been enough but it wasn't. Maybe I was greedy or I wanted to spill more blood, I don't know what it was but it wasn't to stop anytime soon. Anya and Nik had picked up on my mood, orbiting slowly around me as they waited for me to calm down. I don't think any of us slept properly for those months. It couldn't be described as less than pure adulterated hell.

The Council had congratulated me on winning, probably hoping that I would give them a cut of Zoya's vast network. I didn't need what was left of his tiny empire when I had my own to deal with. All I needed was the ports which would be more beneficial for my businesses. Anya and I had spent sleepless nights going over the cost analysis, now that Zoya's ports were mine, it would cost us less to export through them compared to when they belonged to Zoya.

I threw the scraps towards the Council who greedily devoured them. The thought of them doing the same to me if Zoya had succeeded left me sick to my stomach and disgusted with all of them. They were people with no honour when it came to money—but ironically, I am the same. Money assures that I can protect my family so they will never have to worry about anything ever again. I am willing to kill and wage a war, even against the Council whose greed knows no bounds. As long as the crime families of New York, including mine, feed the Council money until they're filthy with it—they will never challenge me.

As far as they're concerned, I am the king of my domain.

But what is the use of a king on the chessboard if there is no queen?

Regardless of how busy or tired or vengeful I became—Meera Saravana has become a fixture in my thoughts, like a root that had dug deep into the earth. No fire, no wind, and no rain could dislodge the hold that she had over me. Even in my dreams, she was there, looking at me with his lovely brown eyes. She never said anything, just gave me this sorrowful and disappointed look before turning around and walking away. No matter how many times I screamed or ran behind her, she was lost to me.

And I would wake up, gasping in my bed, wondering if I had made the right choice.

My last memory of Meera was when she was covered in bandages, bruised and broken. No matter how many times Nik or Anya tried to reassure me that it wasn't my fault, I could not bring myself to believe it because I was afraid of Meera hating me for putting her in that position. I would get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness if I could. The look in her eyes when I dream haunts me, even during the day.

It would be stupid to say I wasn't in love with her.

She has become my light, my deepest regret, and everything that I've yearned for. I've read enough poetry and plays to know that what I feel for Meera isn't ordinary affection. It is something rawer and deeper than that. Love is too broad of a term to use, this is something different. I wish I could tell her all of this, even if she hits me or screams at me, I would let her because she deserves someone who isn't a coward because of their feelings.

"Ivan," Nik calls out, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

I registered the fact that I was looking at the papers in my had, a report that Nik had compiled when he was digging for information about Zoya's existing members of his family. I set them down, looking up at my men who gathered around the conference table.

They were a mix of criminal and non-criminal, brought together by Anya and me. Those who remained loyal to me during the war had enjoyed the downfall of profits that Zoya's previous assets afforded them. This that had betrayed me for Zoya had lost everything—including their lives. I didn't let my gaze linger on the empty seats in the room. There was no point thinking about ghosts.

"I heard you," I said, leaning back in my chair. "And what about Arlo?" I asked my men. I raised an eyebrow at the silence. "Did someone cut out your tongues or are you just mute?"

Nik glared at the men before answering. "We've lost the little shit stain. Someone tracked him to Europe but his trail goes cold after that.

"Paper trail?"

"Cold as ice."

"And who's leading Zoya's men now that his son is gone?"

"A few of his top men. Well, those that survived our hitmen," Anya said. She placed a file down in front of me. "They're not going to be alive for much longer. I can guarantee that. We have them surrounded, just say the word, Ivan."

I could work with that. I picked up the file, scanning through its contents. "Let's make it quick and painless." I look up at Nik. "Make sure that there isn't a trace of them left. This has to be clean, I can't afford any mistakes popping up in the future because we weren't thorough."

Nik grins, delighted at the thought. I knew that underneath the grey suit he wore was a pair of well-sharpened knives and a loaded handgun. I've become immune to his bloodthirsty nature, at this point, I just assume that he got it from me. Nik is good at killing, him and Nat were given the same training after all, but Nik had embraced his murderous attitude compared to Nat who just liked to maim someone to the point of death. He never missed a target and he was rarely merciful, the perfect hitman.

"Aw, Ivan. You have no idea what it means to me to wipe their useless asses off the face of the earth."

"You know what to do."

"Duh. Please, I'm not a rookie."

"Anything Else I should know about?" I asked to the quiet room. "If you don't speak up then you'll be putting us at risk. So speak up!"

One of the men stood up. I recognised him. He was in charge of smuggling, mainly things like gasoline and cigarettes. "Ever since Zoya went down last month, we've been noticing some activity in one of the ports."

"And that would be?"

"We're not sure. We only have the name of the ship that came in." He glanced over to Anya before looking at me. "The SS Singhania. It's a private yacht."

Anya stiffened at the sound of that name, "are you sure it was that name?"

"Yes. It's based in Bombay but it made several trips from London to here. They left quickly but they might've left someone behind." I nodded my head for him to continue. "We're not sure but they unloaded something. By the time our men got there, the shipping container was empty."

Anya's face was impassive but her fingers were tapping rapidly on her thigh. Something was bothering her, and it had something to do with that name. What was so important about it? I made a mental note to talk to her about it later. But for now, I'll focus on whatever 'cargo' the SS Singhania decided to unload. It could be anything from weapons to drugs to faux designer goods....or it could've been a person.

That was the last thing I needed to worry about right now.

"Have someone investigate this. There's already enough infighting in this city, we don't need any foreign influences and their spies watching our every move. This is the time to strengthen ourselves. We can't be weak anymore."

"Ivan," Anya called out. She stood up and took the report about the docks from my hand. "I'll take care of it."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at her willingness. It was strange. "Why?" I asked, my face returning to a neutral expression. To others, I may look intimidating but honestly, I'm just contemplating inside. "Someone else can take it. There are other things—"

"I'll...look into this."

That was a statement. Anya didn't ask questions or permission if there was something that she needed to do. To stop her was like trying to stop an overpowered locomotive, it was better to let her do as she please. Besides, Anya would tell me what she find. There is no need for her to lie to me.

I could hear a murmur of disapproval coming from the people around me. I shot them a glare, silently warning them to not open their mouths. I may be the boos of the Farewell family but that didn't mean I would tolerate an ounce of respect to Anya. She and Nik are as essential as I am to building the foundations of the Farewell Group.

"Fine. It's yours, Anya. Tell me what you find as soon as you can."

"Of course." She stood up, beckoning her PA to follow her. "Thank you, Ivan."

I didn't know why she was thanking me by I let it pass. "Alright, let's end this meeting," I said standing up and buttoning my suit. When I stood up so did everyone else. "We'll meet again in a week. You're dismissed."

There was a small grumble as my men walked through the door. Nik, Anya and I were the only ones left. They glanced at us, whispering underneath their breath. I didn't particularly care what they had to say, as long as they were obedient and loyal to me...it didn't matter. I've learned a few things from Zoya when it comes to keeping you men in check, I'll admit, sometimes it's good to be feared. Fear created order, something everyone in this room needed.

Anya stood up, beckoning her PA to follow her. She picked up her red Burberry coat, draping it over her narrow shoulders. Her sunglasses were tucked neatly into her pocket.

"I'll get going," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

I gave her a small smile, placing my hand over hers. "Wouldn't dream of it."

I could hear the clicks of her heels as they faded away, leaving us in silence that was filled with the sound of the aircon. Now it was just me and Nik. He was fiddling with the strap of his satchel, glancing between the door and me.

"What is it?" I asked. I get up and walked over to the crystal decanter that was filled with brandy and rum. I poured myself a quarter glass and offered another one to Nik. He took it silently, sloshing around the amber contents of his glass before tilting his head back and downing it in one go.

"Gotta love Caribbean rum," he said, placing the glass down and wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

I shrugged. "I have expensive taste."

"And yet...you don't have any ice."

"Well, I'm not perfect."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I figured."

Nik pulled out a plain file from his satchel, holding it out for me. I knew who the contents of that folder were about, I saw Anya holding the day she went to interview Meera. It wasn't uncommon for us to do a background check, safety was important and you never know who could be keeping dangerous secrets.

"This is a file about Meera that Anya had in her office." He said. "I know you. You need to see her because you can't keep living like this."

"Put it back, Nik," I said, my voice dangerously low. "That isn't our secret to spill. Anya and Meera have an agreement. We'd be idiots if we broke their trust in us."

He scoffed at me. 'That'd ironic coming from you."

I turned around, sending him a weak glare. My headache from earlier was starting to come back. "And what does that mean, Nik?"

"It means you need to get your head out of your ass, Ivan." Nik sighed, dropping the folder onto my desk. "I don't know what else to tell you." Nik left quietly, leaving the folder in front of me. I was the only one left in the room. I stood up, pushing myself far away from that folder and walking towards the window that overlooked the city.

The sun was starting to set, casting gold and purple glow all over the city. It reminded me of Meera's golden brown eyes, unwavering and unafraid.

I leaned my forehead against the glass window and closed my eyes.

There was only me and the silence.