Craved by the Wrong Volkov-Chapter 331: The double
Braelynβs POV
Richard was terrified. ππ³ππππ¦π£π―β΄π£π¦π.π€ππ
The moment Lucien mentioned the Orlov name, the air shifted. Even a madman would not dare claim kinship with that family unless it was true. Power like that was not something people joked about.
Richardβs face cycled through several emotions in quick succession, shock, denial, fear, then finally acceptance. He knew he was in trouble.
We were starting to draw attention. It was an open, busy street, and people had already begun to glance in our direction.
Lucien shot me a subtle look before grabbing Richard by the collar and dragging him towards a nearby alley. There was no struggle. Richard followed, stumbling over his own feet like a man already defeated.
The alley was narrow and dimly lit, tucked between two tall buildings that blocked out most of the streetlights. The ground was damp, with patches of water along the edges of the cracked concrete. The air smelled faintly of metal and rot, sharp enough to make my nose scrunch up. A flickering bulb hung overhead, casting uneven shadows that made everything feel more suffocating.
Lucien shoved Richard to the ground without effort.
Richard landed hard, a pained grunt escaping him as he scrambled to sit up. He did not try to run or even attempt to stand. If Lucien truly was an Orlov, running would only make things worse.
Lucien stepped back and pulled out his phone, typing something calmly as though this was just another routine matter.
I walked forward.
Richard immediately began to shuffle backwards until his back hit the wall. His fingers clawed against the concrete, his nails scraping harshly against the ground as he tried to put as much distance between us as possible.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice trembling badly. His eyes darted around the alley, searching for something, anything, that could save him.
I stared at him, trying to reconcile the man in front of me with the one I used to know. I just could not understand it.
Why he betrayed me.
"Start talking," I said, my voice colder than I expected. "What happened that night? Who did you kiss, and why are you still alive?"
The moment the words left my mouth, something in him snapped. Richard suddenly dropped forward, his face hitting the concrete as he broke into frantic sobs.
"I am sorry," he cried. "I am so sorry. I needed the money."
My brows furrowed, confusion mixing with anger. Money.
Of course it was money. I felt like laughing at the word. Money was the root of all evil.
"Who paid you?" I asked, my voice steady. He did not respond.
There was a soft metallic click. Richardβs head jerked up instantly.
Lucien stood a few steps away, his phone now tucked back into his pocket. In his hand was a gun, the barrel pointed directly at Richard.
Richardβs face drained of all colour.
Lucien let out a quiet scoff. "Do not play games with me. Either you talk to her, or you talk to professionals who will make you talk."
Richardβs eyes widened slightly. He understood exactly what that meant. Torture. A family like the Orlovs were creative with torture.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his voice shaking. "I am sorry," he repeated. "Miss Sinclair paid me. She paid me and told me to leave afterwards."
Amelia? I was not even stunned at the answer.
Before I could process his words, a muted shot rang out. The bullet struck the ground dangerously close to Richardβs leg.
He screamed and jerked violently, his entire body trembling. The silencer had reduced the sound, but the threat was clear enough.
"Keep talking," Lucien said calmly.
I was grateful he did not ask questions. He did not need to understand my reasons. He simply acted. Richard nodded frantically, his breathing uneven.
"She approached me first," he said quickly. "I did not know what she wanted at the time. Then she offered me money. A lot of money."
His voice cracked as he continued.
"I refused at first. I swear I did. But I had no choice. My father... he has gambling debts. The collectors were already coming after us. I did not have anything left."
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
"Amelia knew," he continued. "She knew everything. She used it against me. She said she would pay off the debts and give me more if I helped her."
"And what exactly did she ask you to do?" I pressed.
He hesitated for a second before answering.
"She wanted me to act as your lover," he admitted quietly. "To make Raphael believe you were cheating."
My stomach dropped. Richard let out a shaky breath and continued.
"Everything was planned. I did not know all the details, just my part. That night, I was told where to be and what to do. I played along. That was it."
His gaze flickered between me and Lucien before he continued.
"She kept her promise. She paid off the debts and gave me enough money to disappear. I thought it was over."
His expression twisted with fear.
"But it was not. She sent people after me later. I do not know why. Maybe she wanted to clean up loose ends. If my father did not have connections who warned us, I would already be dead."
My hands curled into fists at my sides. So that was the truth. Still, something did not add up. I took a step closer, my voice sharper this time.
"Who did you kiss?" I demanded. "Who was the impostor?"
Richard froze. His silence only lasted a second before Lucien lifted the gun slightly.
"I do not know exactly," Richard rushed out. Another bullet rang, and he almost collapsed, his chest rapidly rising and falling. "But I overheard parts of the plan."
"Then say it," I snapped.
"I overheard she was a maid," he said quickly. "Someone from your house. She was the one who drove your car out that night to make it look like you left."
My heart skipped at his words. "A maid?" I repeated.
He nodded eagerly.
"She had a similar build to you. Amelia had her dressed up and made up to look like you. Someone who knew you long enough to perfect even your mannerisms, the perfect double. The make-up artist was a professional. Even up close, no one would notice the difference," he explained.
My mind spun as the pieces started falling into place.
"I never saw her clearly," he added. "She barely spoke that night. I do not know her name."
