Freedom is an expensive joke. Especially when it's taken from you for something you didn't do. Or rather, for something they can't prove you did.
My name is Marko Ivanov, and I don't hide behind pretty words. I'm not a saint, but I'm no one's fool either. I was born into a world where you get eaten if you don't bite first. I grew up among people with blood on their hands and smiles on their faces. That's how I learned that power isn't asked for—it's taken.
When they threw me behind bars, they accused me of arms trafficking. International trade. Collaborations with shadowy groups in Eastern Europe. Lies and rumors rolled through the press like stones down a steep road.
"We have solid information," the prosecutor said in front of the cameras.
Information. Not evidence. That's the difference between an opinion and a conviction. But for someone like me, they don't need much to lock you up. Just a name and a good story.
On paper, they have nothing. In the files, only assumptions. A few intercepted phone calls, but no direct link. No shipment caught, no weapons found. Just suspicions. But for them, it was enough. Too many people wanted me behind bars. Some out of fear. Others out of envy. And Victor Munteanu, the lead prosecutor, wanted me there at any cost.
"I'm going to bury you," he once told me in a calm voice. As if he were talking about the weather.
And maybe he would have succeeded… if I hadn't brought her into the game.
Ana Popescu. My lawyer.
Someone told me about her. Young, untainted, with an impeccable reputation. She doesn't compromise. She has her father's name behind her and an ambition sharp enough to cut steel.
At first, I laughed.
"What could a girl from a family of judges do in a dirty case like mine?"
But something caught my attention. Not fear. The fact that she had none. Ana Popescu didn't run from my name. On the contrary. She seemed challenged by it.
So I chose her.
The first time I saw her, her hair was tied back, a large briefcase under her arm, and that look—the kind that gets under your skin. She didn't ask if I was guilty. She asked what evidence they had. She spoke calmly, briefly, professionally, but her eyes didn't lie. She was there because she wanted the truth, not to decorate it.
"Do you want to get out, Mr. Ivanov?"
"I want to make them all regret believing they could chain me without evidence."
She didn't flinch. She nodded.
"Then we have a lot of work to do."
She didn't know what she was walking into. And maybe I didn't know what I was about to feel. But I knew, from the very first moment, that Ana wasn't like the others.
And if life put her in my path as an obstacle, I intend to turn her into an ally.
Or into something more.