21. Mikhail
MIKHAIL
Alina leaves my office with her spine straight and her mouth swollen from my kiss.
I don’t have room for distraction, and I don’t have room for softness, yet she walks out like she’s already decided she’ll live through what comes next, and she expects me to keep up. Enzo stays by the door, silent and tight-faced, then he shifts his weight like he’s waiting for the order he hates.
“Get Luca,” I say. “And the rest of the team. Five minutes.”
Enzo’s eyes flick to the desk, to the message, then back to me. “And her reply?”
“She’ll write it,” I answer. “But we’ll do it on our own terms and time.”
He doesn’t argue, and he moves.
I pick up the paper again, I read it a third time, and I don’t let myself enjoy the clarity.
Vladimir wants Alina choosing on record, he wants the illusion of consent, and he wants to make me watch her walk into his orbit.
He’s been patient for years, and he’s tired now, which means he’s going to make mistakes.
That’s the good news.
The bad news sits in the second line, and it sits in my house.
The boy is not invisible.
I open my laptop, I pull the internal access logs, and I scroll without blinking. I don’t look for “proof”. I look for patterns. Who checked the east wing cameras, who pulled door data, who accessed the vehicle schedules, who viewed staff placement files. The list is longer than it should be.
I tap the desk once, then I stand and walk out.
The hallway outside Alina’s rooms is quiet, and it stays quiet in a way that tells me my men have learned to move softly around her. Two guards stand at distance, eyes forward, hands visible, posture calm. Good.
I don’t go in. I don’t knock. I angle past the corridor and head for the family sitting room on the same level, the one with the low couch and the shelf Sofia stocked with children’s books yesterday.
Oisin is on the floor with a set of wooden trains, and Sofia is cross-legged beside him, holding up a bridge piece while he slides a locomotive under it with serious focus. He looks up when I enter, his attention snapping to me fast, then he smiles like the room is safe again.
“Look,” he says, pointing. “It goes under.”
“I see,” I tell him, and I crouch down so we’re level. “It doesn’t crash?”
“It doesn’t crash,” he says proudly, then he frowns. “Unless I go fast.”
“Don’t go fast inside,” I reply, and I glance at Sofia. “How’s he doing?”
Sofia answers like she’s reporting, which I respect. “He ate. He brushed. He wanted one more story. I told him it’s two per night max, and he said you’d agree.”
Oisin nods hard. “Two is fair.”
I look at him. “Two is fair.”
He grins like he won something.
Sofia stands, smoothing her sweater. “Do you want me out of the way?”
“No,” I say. “I want you where I can find you.”
Her expression shifts a fraction, then she nods. “Okay.”
I turn back to Oisin and point to the trains. “Show me how you build the bridge.”
He pushes pieces together, tongue peeking out as he concentrates, and I watch his hands, his small patience, the care he takes not to break anything. He’s cautious in a way children aren’t supposed to be, and I don’t pretend I don’t see it.
“You get scared when people shout,” I say, low and steady.
He pauses, then shrugs like he doesn’t want to admit it. “Not shout. Loud.”
“Loud is enough,” I answer. “No one will be loud at you here.”
He looks up at me, eyes sharp. “Promise?”
I don’t hesitate. “Promise.”
He accepts it like he’s been trained to judge adults by follow-through. Then he picks up the engine again and pushes it under the bridge. “It’s your train,” he announces.
Sofia’s mouth twitches, and she looks away so he doesn’t see her smile.
“Mine?” I repeat. “What does my train do?”
He thinks. “It brings stuff.”
“Important stuff?” I say.
“Snacks,” he decides.
I nod once. “Good job.”
He beams, then returns to his work.
I stand, and I keep my voice casual. “Sofia, don’t take him out of this wing today. Not the sitting room, not the play room, not the hall. If he asks, say it’s my rule.”
Sofia’s eyes sharpen. “Something’s moving.”
“Yes,” I say. “And it’s not moving in his direction.”
Oisin hears “rule”, and he looks up. “What rule?”
I crouch again. “New rule. Today is inside day.”
He makes a face. “But I wanted the garden.”
“Tomorrow,” I say, and I keep my tone calm. “Inside today.”
He studies me, then nods once like he’s filing it under “hard rules”. “Okay. I’ll do trains.”
“Good,” I tell him, and I tap his bridge lightly. “Build it strong.”
I leave them there and head downstairs with my phone in my hand, not calling, not texting, just scrolling through a list of names that should not exist in my house.
Luca is already waiting outside my office when I return, posture tight, eyes bright with readiness. Yuri stands two steps back, near the wall, hands behind his back, calm and dangerous. Alexei is the last to arrive, and he has his tablet out like he lives in numbers even when he sleeps.
Enzo closes the door and locks it, then he takes position by the wall without speaking.
I set the message on the desk, and I don’t sit.
“Vladimir made contact,” I say. “He used a cutout, he delivered in public, and he addressed Alina directly.”
Luca’s jaw tightens. “He knows she’s here.”
“He knows the boy exists,” I add, and I watch Alexei’s face tighten before he smooths it out.
Yuri’s voice stays even. “That info came from inside.”
“Yes,” I say. “That’s why you’re here.”
I slide my laptop around so they can see the access logs, then I point at the list of entries. “These are camera pulls and file views related to the east wing and vehicle schedules. This is from the last forty-eight hours.”
Alexei leans in, eyes scanning. “That’s too many.”
“Correct,” I answer. “So we narrow it.”
Luca taps one name. “This is kitchen.”
Yuri shakes his head slightly. “Kitchen doesn’t need camera access.”
“They don’t,” I agree. “So someone used their credentials.”
Enzo speaks without shifting. “We’ve got two missing phones from staff lockers. We found one in a laundry cart. We didn’t find the other.”
I look at him. “Who reported it?”
“A maid,” Enzo says. “Lidia.”
Yuri’s eyes lift. “Lidia was here six years ago.”
My gut goes cold in a controlled way. “Bring her in.”
“Now,” Yuri says, and he turns toward the door.
“Not loudly,” I remind him.
Yuri nods once, then leaves.
Alexei exhales through his nose. “If Vladimir’s going public with messages, then he’s stirring the city. Your rivals will talk.”
“I know,” I say. “What’s the current temperature?”
Alexei doesn’t need to check. “Two of the smaller crews stopped paying their weekly cut this morning. They’re claiming ‘administrative delays’ with their cash runs. That’s a test.”
Luca’s voice is sharp. “They want to see if you’re distracted.”
I glance at him. “And are we?”
“No,” Luca says immediately.
“Good,” I reply. “Then we move like we’re bored.”
Enzo’s phone buzzes once, and he checks it, then looks up. “Warehouse three is down. Power cut. Backup didn’t kick.”
Luca swears. “That’s Volkov’s lane.”
I don’t blink. “Send a team. Lock it. Don’t fix the power until Yuri clears the site.”
Enzo moves his thumbs, sending orders.
Alexei shifts his tablet closer. “If warehouse three goes dark, then the usual buyers will panic. That hits your credibility.”
“Let them panic,” I say. “Panic makes people show their contacts.”
Luca looks at me. “And the reply to Vladimir?”
I hold his gaze. “Alina writes it. We deliver it through our own channel, not digital, not house, not a known messenger. I want Vladimir receiving it and thinking he’s the one controlling the thread.”
Alexei hesitates. “If she meets him—”
“She will,” I cut in.
Luca stiffens. “Boss.”
I lift a hand, and the room goes quiet. “She proposed it, and she was right on the structure. He wants her choosing. We give him that, and we choose the room, we choose the exits, we choose the cameras, and we choose the timing.”
Enzo’s mouth tightens. “And if he tries to grab her?”
“He won’t,” I say. “Not in the first meeting.”
Luca leans forward. “And the boy?”
I look at Luca until he stops moving. “No one gets near him. That’s not negotiable.”
Alexei nods once, then points at his screen. “There’s more. Two men tied to Vladimir’s financing just bought property outside the city. One is a warehouse lease. One is a residential block with underground parking. It’s fast.”
I don’t like that. “Where?”
He slides it across. “North ring, near the river exit.”
Luca mutters, “Transfer point.”
Yuri returns before I can answer, and he’s not alone. He walks Lidia in, her hands free, her face pale, her eyes wide like she already knows what kind of room this is.
I don’t shout. I don’t rise. I don’t perform.
“Lidia,” I say calmly. “How long have you worked in my house?”
She swallows. “Eight years, sir. I left once. I came back.”
“Who asked you to come back?” I ask.
She shakes her head fast. “No one. I needed work.”
Yuri stands behind her, not touching, letting my voice do the pressure.
“Two phones went missing from staff lockers,” I say. “One was found. One wasn’t. Do you know anything?”
She looks down, then up, then down again. “No.”
I keep my voice even. “You have access logs on my system under your credentials.”
Her lips part. “I don’t have a computer.”
“Correct,” I say. “So someone used your credentials.”
She starts shaking. “I don’t know how.”
Yuri speaks for the first time, voice quiet. “Who asked you for your badge?”
Lidia’s eyes dart to Yuri, then to me. “No one.”
Enzo steps forward and sets a small plastic bag on the desk, and inside is the missing phone, cracked, powered off.
“I found it,” Enzo says. “In your cleaning cart.”
Lidia makes a small sound like she can’t help it.
I watch her face closely. “Talk,” I say.
She squeezes her eyes shut. “A man approached me at the market. He said he knew my brother. He said my brother owed money, and he said he could fix it.”
Luca’s hands curl into fists.
I keep my tone controlled. “What did he ask?”