He Didn’t Kidnap Me. Not Exactly novel Chapter 225

Chapter 225

Father had only recently returned after years abroad.

His return had changed everything.

The man I had referred to as Father throughout most of my life had, in truth, been my uncle. That was our family’s tradition. We addressed our uncles as fathers, respecting bloodline above titles.

But Roman Volkov…

The real Roman Volkov…

had finally returned.

With him had come expectations heavier than any I had ever carried before.

He had granted me one final opportunity to prove I deserved the Volkov name.

I had failed.

I swallowed slowly before forcing myself to think beyond the disappointment.

No.

Not entirely.

This could still be repaired.

I would ask him for another chance. Not another excuse- another mission. Love had clouded my judgment once, and I had been foolish enough to believe I could separate personal feelings from duty.

That weakness no longer existed.

Adrian meant nothing to me beyond the objective he represented.

The next time I stood before him, I wouldn’t hesitate.

I would finish what I had started.

All I needed was Father’s permission… and the resources to do it properly.

The iron gates of the Volkov compound eventually emerged through the trees, opening almost immediately as the guards recognized both the vehicle and its driver. I drove straight through the estate before bringing the car to an abrupt stop in the central courtyard.

The engine had barely fallen silent before I was already outside.

Several men turned in my direction. One looked as though he intended to speak, but I walked straight past him. Another offered a respectful nod, and I ignored that too.

There wasn’t time for greetings.

The familiar corridors unfolded before me as I strode through the estate, my footsteps echoing sharply against the polished floors. Servants stepped aside without question. Guards instinctively made way. Gunmen lowered their conversations as I passed.

No one stopped me.

No one dared.

At the end of the grand hallway stood the heavy double doors leading into Father’s audience chamber. Two guards moved to open them, but I reached them first, shoving one of the doors inward with enough force for it to strike the wall behind it.

Every conversation inside the room died instantly.

Without lifting my eyes to meet anyone else’s, I crossed the chamber, dropped onto both knees before the gathering, and lowered my head.

“Father.”

“Father.”

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