CORRUPTED HEART

Moscow, Russia - 11:47 PM

The city glittered beneath a blanket of cold winter darkness. Towering skyscrapers pierced the night sky while expensive cars crawled through the illuminated streets like streams of liquid gold. To the outside world, Moscow was beautiful. To Sebastian Volkov, it was simply a city built on lies.

He stood near the floor-to-ceiling window of a private warehouse overlooking the frozen docks, a glass of whiskey resting in his hand while several men shifted nervously around the room. No one dared speak unless spoken to; no one dared make eye contact for too long. Not when Chief Inspector Sebastian Volkov was present. At thirty-one years old, Sebastian had become a name feared by both criminals and police officers alike. The badge clipped to his belt represented justice, but the man wearing it represented something entirely different: power, control, influence, and money-things justice could never buy.

A loud knock interrupted the silence. One of the guards immediately stepped forward. "The buyers are here, Inspector."

Sebastian glanced at his watch. "They're late."

The guard swallowed hard. "Only by six minutes."

"That's six minutes longer than I tolerate," Sebastian replied coldly.

The guard immediately lowered his head, offering no further explanation. Sebastian turned away from the window and adjusted the cuffs of his black shirt. Everything about him appeared calm, refined, and controlled, yet everyone in the room knew better. Sebastian Volkov never needed to raise his voice; the danger existed entirely beneath the surface. A predator didn't need to announce itself. A predator simply waited.

The warehouse doors opened, and several men entered wearing expensive suits, expensive watches, and expensive, fake smiles. Business began immediately. Numbers were discussed, territories negotiated, and payments confirmed. The entire arrangement sat somewhere in the gray area between legal and criminal-a place Sebastian often found himself standing.

"Five million is too much," one businessman argued.

"Then leave," Sebastian said.

The room fell dead silent. The businessman forced a tight smile, trying to smooth things over. "No need for hostility."

Sebastian merely stared at him until the man immediately looked away. Coward, Sebastian thought. Most people were. He had long ago accepted that human beings were motivated by only three things: fear, greed, and self-interest. Everything else was fiction-especially kindness, love, and innocence. They were just fairy tales people told themselves to sleep better at night.

A sudden commotion erupted outside. Shouting and fast-approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor, causing the guards to frown. Sebastian barely reacted, giving a brief nod. "Handle it."

Before anyone could move, the warehouse doors burst open and a young man stormed inside. His cheeks were flushed from the biting cold, a thick coat hung loosely from his shoulders, and curly brown hair framed a furious face. In his hand, he clutched a folder stuffed with papers.

The entire room froze. The newcomers looked horrified, and the guards immediately reached for their weapons. Sebastian narrowed his eyes, wondering who the hell this was. The stranger wasn't frightened; if anything, he looked absolutely livid. His gaze swept across the room before locking onto the businessman standing near Sebastian.

"There you are!" the young man shouted, marching forward as every step echoed through the cavernous warehouse. "You lied to them! You promised those families their donations would reach the shelter!"

The businessman immediately panicked, yelling, "Security-"

"Don't!" the stranger snapped, pulling several documents from his folder and throwing them down. "I have bank statements." The room became very quiet. "I have signatures." Another paper hit the floor. "I have proof. You stole money meant for orphaned children."

Now everyone was listening. The businessman looked ready to faint while Sebastian observed silently, finding the situation increasingly entertaining.

The young man continued, his voice cracking slightly-not from fear, but from genuine anger. "Do you know how many children depended on that funding?" Sebastian noticed it immediately. Interesting. Very interesting. The businessman glanced around desperately. "You don't understand-"

"No," the stranger laughed bitterly, taking another step forward. "You don't understand. You looked those children in the eyes and lied."

The businessman suddenly bolted, trying to escape by slipping behind Sebastian. At exactly the same moment, the young man raised his hand to strike. Everything happened in a split second. The businessman ducked, Sebastian stepped sideways, and-SMACK!

The sound echoed sharply throughout the warehouse.

Absolute silence followed. No one moved; no one breathed. The folder slipped from the young man's fingers, scattering papers across the cold floor. Slowy... very slowly... Sebastian turned his head. His icy blue eyes settled on the stranger standing before him. The hand that had just delivered the blow still hovered in the dead air.

The young man's face drained of color as the realization hit him. "Oh," he whispered, a single word escaping his lips. "Oh no."

A guard dropped his gun in shock, someone else whispered a frantic prayer, and one of the businessmen actually took a step backward. Everyone present knew one fundamental rule: nobody touched Sebastian Volkov. Nobody. Not criminals, not politicians, not fellow officers, and not even members of his own family. Yet somehow, a complete stranger had just slapped him across the face.

The young man's eyes widened. "I-"

Sebastian stared at him with no emotion, no anger, and no reaction-which somehow felt far more terrifying.

The stranger swallowed hard. "That wasn't meant for you." A few men nearly laughed, then immediately remembered where they were and choked it back. The young man looked around nervously before turning back to Sebastian. "I can explain. I was aiming for him." He pointed a trembling finger toward the businessman. "I didn't mean to hit you."

Still, Sebastian said nothing. The warehouse remained deathly silent. For the first time since entering the building, genuine fear finally appeared in the young man's eyes. Not because of the armed guards or the criminals, but because of Sebastian.

The Chief Inspector slowly tilted his head, his gaze never leaving the stranger's face. For some reason, the young man didn't look like a liar. That was unusual; everyone lied. Yet there was something strangely genuine about the panic written across those hazel eyes. Something honest and real.

Sebastian hated it immediately because people like that didn't exist. And if they did, he would prove they were no different than everyone else.

The young man took a cautious step backward. "My name is Oliver Hayes."

Sebastian's eyes darkened slightly.

"I really am sorry," Oliver continued nervously.

Silence stretched between them. Then, finally, Sebastian smiled-a slow, cold, dangerous smile that made grown men fear for their lives. For reasons he couldn't yet explain, Oliver Hayes suddenly felt as though slapping the Chief Inspector had been the biggest mistake of his life.

Or perhaps, the beginning of it.

The drive back home was unusually quiet. Sebastian sat in the backseat of the black Mercedes, one arm resting against the window while snowflakes drifted through the Moscow night outside. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white, but his attention remained elsewhere. Hazel eyes. Curly brown hair. A trembling voice trying to explain. "That wasn't meant for you," the words replayed in his head, and Sebastian hated that they did.

Across from him, Nikolai Volkov watched his older brother carefully. For ten years he had known Sebastian better than almost anyone, which was exactly why the silence worried him. Normally after something like tonight, someone would be hospitalized, arrested, or disappear entirely. Yet Sebastian had done nothing-nothing except smile. And that smile had terrified everyone, including Nikolai.

Finally, he spoke. "So..."

Sebastian didn't look up. "So?"

Nikolai sighed. "You got slapped."

Sebastian's gaze slowly shifted toward him, making Nikolai immediately regret opening his mouth. The silence stretched between them before Sebastian replied calmly, "I was there. Thank you for informing me."

Nikolai rolled his eyes. "Are you going to kill him?"

"No."

That answer surprised him. "Break his legs?"

"No."

"Threaten him?"

"No."

Now Nikolai was genuinely confused. "Then what are you planning?"

Sebastian looked back toward the passing city lights, a slow, dangerous smile appearing on his face-the exact same smile from the warehouse. "The interesting question isn't what I'm planning. It's why he did it."

"He already explained."

"People lie," Sebastian's voice grew colder. "But I want proof."

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the city, Oliver Hayes was having the worst night of his life. He paced endlessly around his tiny, one-bedroom apartment above Saint Gabriel Shelter. It was a small space with old furniture and a leaking radiator-nothing luxurious, but it was home. Right now, however, it felt more like a prison cell.

Oliver groaned and buried his face in his hands. "What have I done?"

His best friend, Ethan, sat on the couch eating chips. "You slapped a police inspector."

Oliver looked horrified. "Stop saying it like that."

"How should I say it?" Ethan laughed. "You accidentally assaulted one of the most feared officers in Moscow."

"When you say it like that, it sounds worse," Oliver collapsed into a chair, groaning again.

His entire body felt exhausted. The day had started normally enough: a missing charity fund, several desperate families, and children who suddenly couldn't afford medicine. Then came the discovery that someone had stolen thousands of euros meant for the orphanage. Oliver had followed the evidence, tracked the man responsible, confronted him, and somehow ended up slapping the wrong person. The worst possible person.

Ethan finally put down the chips. "Do you know who that guy actually is?"

Oliver nodded weakly. "Chief Inspector Sebastian Volkov."

"Exactly. The Sebastian Volkov. The terrifying one."

Oliver grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, but Ethan just laughed. "I'm serious!" Oliver rubbed his forehead. "I already apologized."

"You think that's enough?"

Oliver froze. Deep down, he didn't. Not after seeing those icy blue eyes, feeling the entire warehouse go dead silent, or witnessing powerful businessmen suddenly look frightened. The memory made his stomach twist. Sebastian Volkov wasn't normal; he didn't simply operate like another police officer. The man carried power around him like a weapon, and Oliver had publicly humiliated him.

"Maybe he'll forget," Oliver muttered.

Ethan burst out laughing. "Forget? That man probably remembers every parking ticket he's ever issued."

Oliver groaned, burying his head. "This isn't helping."

"No," Ethan grinned. "It's really not."

The next morning began at six. Inside Police Headquarters, the massive building already buzzed with activity-phones rang endlessly, detectives hurried through hallways, reports piled onto desks, and criminals waited in holding cells. It was organized chaos, and Sebastian controlled a large part of it. He entered his office without greeting anyone.

Thirty minutes later, a file landed on his desk. Nikolai placed it there, noting, "You asked for information."

Sebastian opened it. "That was fast."

"I know people."

Sebastian smirked; so did he. However, the file wasn't thick, which immediately caught his attention. Most people left long trails behind them-debt, toxic relationships, criminal records, or secrets. Oliver Hayes apparently did not.

Sebastian began reading the details: Orphan. Abandoned at three months old. Raised at Saint Gabriel Shelter. Excellent academic record. Volunteer worker. No criminal history, no debt, no suspicious activity, no complaints, and no scandals. Nothing.

The deeper Sebastian read, the darker his expression became. It was impossible. Nobody had a life this clean. Humans weren't built that way; there was always something hidden underneath-a selfish motive, a weakness, a dark secret. Yet every report said the same thing. Oliver Hayes spent most of his time helping children, assisting elderly residents, organizing charity drives, working extra hours without pay, and donating a part of his own meager salary.

The last page contained several photographs, and Sebastian stared at them. One showed Oliver sitting on the floor surrounded by children. Another captured him carrying a sleeping child toward a shelter van. A third showed him laughing during a fundraiser. The smile looked genuine-not practiced, not manipulative, just entirely real.

Sebastian hated it. His jaw tightened.

Nikolai noticed. "What is it?"

Sebastian tossed the file onto the desk. "He doesn't make sense. He has no angle."

"Maybe he's actually a good person."

Sebastian looked at his brother as though he had said something entirely ridiculous. "No."

Nikolai sighed. "There are good people in the world."

"There are useful people. And there are selfish people pretending to be good."

Nikolai leaned back in his chair. "You sound like Father."

Sebastian's eyes hardened immediately. The mention of Commissioner Viktor Volkov always did that. His father believed in honor, duty, and justice-everything Sebastian had stopped believing in years ago. "Don't compare me to him."

"Fine," Nikolai raised his hands in surrender.

Silence followed. Sebastian picked up one of the photographs again. Oliver was smiling at something outside the frame, completely unaware of the camera, looking entirely genuine. The image irritated him for reasons he couldn't explain. Nobody smiled like that without wanting something or expecting something in return. Eventually, everyone revealed their true nature. Sebastian had spent years proving it with politicians, officers, businessmen, friends, and lovers alike.

So why did this stranger bother him? Why did a simple file leave him feeling so unsettled?

His fingers tapped against the mahogany desk, slowly and thoughtfully. Then, a dangerous idea entered his mind. Perhaps the file wasn't wrong, but the real Oliver Hayes simply hadn't been exposed yet. And if that was the case, Sebastian Volkov would be the one to strip away the mask.

A cold smile spread across his face. Across the room, Nikolai immediately recognized it. That expression always meant trouble. "What are you planning?"

Sebastian closed the file, his blue eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. "I think it's time I met Mr. Hayes properly."

Miles away, completely unaware of the storm heading toward him, Oliver Hayes was helping children decorate a classroom for Christmas. For the first time in years, Sebastian Volkov found himself looking forward to meeting someone-not because he liked him, and certainly not because he trusted him, but because he intended to prove that Oliver Hayes was just as flawed as everyone else.

Neither of them realized that this single decision would change both of their lives forever.

Sebastian Volkov was not a patient man.

If he wanted information, he obtained it.

If he wanted results, he created them.

And if he wanted answers, he made sure someone gave them to him.

That was how his world worked.

So after spending two days reading every report, financial record, and background check related to Oliver Hayes, he decided it was time to meet the man himself.

Not as the Chief Inspector.

Not as the man who had been slapped.

But as a stranger.

A hunter observing his target.

The morning air was cold enough to sting exposed skin when Sebastian parked his black SUV outside Saint Gabriel Shelter.

Snow covered the old building's roof.

The shelter itself looked painfully ordinary.

Three floors.

Faded cream-colored walls.

A small playground.

A garden buried beneath winter frost.

Nothing about it suggested wealth.

Nothing about it suggested influence.

And yet according to the reports, Oliver spent almost every waking hour here.

Sebastian stepped out of the vehicle and adjusted his dark overcoat.

Children's laughter drifted through the air.

The sound immediately irritated him.

Too innocent.

Too carefree.

Life wasn't supposed to sound like that.

As he approached the entrance, he noticed several volunteers carrying boxes of supplies inside.

One elderly woman struggled with a heavy package.

Before Sebastian could continue walking, someone rushed past him.

A familiar figure.

Oliver.

The younger man immediately took the box from the woman's arms.

"Mrs. Peterson, I told you not to carry these yourself."

The elderly woman smiled warmly.

"And I told you to stop worrying."

"You say that every time."

"And you're still worrying every time."

Oliver laughed. A genuine laugh. Not forced. Not polite. Genuine.

Sebastian watched from a distance.

No cameras.

No reporters.

No audience.

Yet Oliver was still helping.

Interesting.

The old woman reached up and pinched Oliver's cheek.

"You work too hard."

Oliver groaned dramatically.

"You sound exactly like the children."

"Maybe because we're right."

The exchange looked natural.

Comfortable.

Like family.

Something Sebastian had expected to be staged. Instead, it appeared authentic. His irritation deepened.

The reports had better be wrong. Otherwise this entire situation was becoming very inconvenient. Before he could think further, Oliver turned. Their eyes met.

The smile instantly disappeared from Oliver's face.

"Oh."

Sebastian almost smirked.

Recognition.

Panic.

Guilt.

All three emotions crossed Oliver's face within seconds.

The younger man hurried toward him.

"Inspector Volkov."

"Mr. Hayes."

The formal response only made Oliver more nervous.

"I wasn't expecting you."

"I imagine not."

Awkward silence followed.

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck. The habit made him look younger than twenty-four.

"You didn't come to arrest me, right?"

Sebastian stared at him.

Oliver's face paled.

"That was a joke."

"It wasn't funny."

"I know."

Sebastian enjoyed watching him struggle.

Far more than he should have. Oliver cleared his throat.

"I really am sorry about the other night."

"There it is."

"What?"

"The apology." Oliver blinked.

Sebastian stepped closer.

"You seem determined to repeat it."

Guilt flashed across the younger man's face.

"Because I hit you."

"You slapped me."

"Accidentally."

"Still happened."

Oliver looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

For some reason, Sebastian found that amusing. Very amusing. Most people lied to him. Most people made excuses. Most people blamed others. Oliver simply looked guilty. It was refreshing. And incredibly suspicious. Nobody was that honest. Nobody.

"So..." Oliver began carefully. "Why are you here?"

Finally. A useful question. Sebastian looked toward the building.

"Curiosity."

Oliver frowned.

"About what?"

"You."

The answer escaped before Sebastian could soften it. Oliver froze. Sebastian immediately noticed the slight blush appearing on his cheeks. Interesting. Very interesting.

The younger man recovered quickly. "That's a little concerning."

"It should be."Oliver stared, then unexpectedly laughed. Sebastian wasn't sure why. Most people became intimidated when he spoke like that, but Oliver seemed amused.

"You're different than I expected." Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"Different?"

"I thought you'd be angrier."

"I am." Oliver's smile vanished.

Sebastian almost laughed.

The reaction was immediate. Honest. Transparent. Everything about Oliver was transparent. Like looking through glass.

"You really don't know when someone is joking, do you?" Oliver asked.

"I wasn't joking."

"Oh." There was that word again.

Oh.

The same one he had used after the slap. Sebastian suddenly found himself fighting a smile. A strange experience. One he didn't particularly enjoy. Oliver glanced toward the shelter entrance. Several children were watching them through the windows. Whispering excitedly.

One little girl pressed her face against the glass. Sebastian noticed immediately. Oliver followed his gaze.

"They've been spying on us for three minutes."

"Poorly."

"They're children."

"They should practice."

Oliver laughed again.

The sound was warm. Dangerously warm. Sebastian didn't like the effect it had on the atmosphere around them. Everything suddenly felt lighter.

Less controlled.

Less predictable.

A small boy suddenly burst through the front door. "Oliver!"

The child ran directly toward them. Before stopping abruptly. His eyes widened as he noticed Sebastian. The boy immediately hid behind Oliver's legs. Sebastian frowned. The child looked terrified.

"Max." Oliver crouched beside him. "What's wrong?"

The boy pointed directly at Sebastian. "He's scary."

Silence.

Then Oliver laughed so hard he nearly lost his balance. Even the child started giggling.

Sebastian remained completely expressionless. "Am I entertaining you?"

"A little." The younger man failed miserably at hiding his smile.

The little boy peeked around him. "You look like a villain."

Oliver covered his mouth. The child continued. "Like the bad guys in movies."

Sebastian stared. The boy stared back. Neither moved. Then Sebastian reached into his coat pocket. Max immediately hid again.

Oliver looked horrified. "Please don't arrest the child."

Sebastian ignored him. A moment later, he pulled out a chocolate bar. The same one he had confiscated from Nikolai earlier that morning. Without a word, he handed it to Max.

The boy blinked.

Oliver blinked.

Sebastian looked mildly annoyed. "Take it." The child slowly accepted the chocolate. Still suspicious. Still hiding behind Oliver. But less afraid. A lot less afraid. For several seconds nobody spoke.

Then Max grinned. A huge grin. "Thank you, Mister Villain."

Oliver completely lost control and burst out laughing. Children nearby joined in. Even a few volunteers smiled. Sebastian stood in the middle of it all looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Yet strangely...

He didn't leave.

He should have.

Nothing useful was happening. No information was being gathered. No secrets were being exposed. No weaknesses were being uncovered.

Instead he found himself watching Oliver interact with the children. Watching how naturally they trusted him. How quickly they gravitated toward him. How genuinely happy they seemed in his presence. The scene felt foreign. Almost unreal. People weren't supposed to be this selfless. There had to be something beneath the surface. There had to be. And Sebastian intended to find it. No matter how long it took. Because if Oliver Hayes truly was as good as he appeared...

Then everything Sebastian believed about the world might be wrong. And that possibility disturbed him more than he was willing to admit. As Oliver smiled at one of the children, Sebastian made a silent promise to himself. He would uncover the truth.

Whether Oliver liked it or not.

Whether Oliver knew it or not.

The game had officially begun.

And for the first time in years...

Sebastian Volkov was genuinely interested in the outcome.