27. A Call to Her Father
A Call to Her Father
Roman
The alert is small.
That’s what makes it dangerous.
A single line flashes red on the lower corner of the screen—unauthorized outbound signal. Not from our secured network. Not from any approved device.
For a second, I don’t react.
Then the source tag resolves.
Internal proximity.
Penthouse.
My pulse spikes—fast, sharp, ugly.
Because this isn’t just a breach.
It’s her.
“Trace it,” I snap.
Viktor is already moving.
“Routing through a burner,” he says. “Signal’s bouncing.”
“Kill it.”
“Can’t,” he replies. “Too short. It’s already connected.”
My jaw tightens.
Control fractures.
Not the city.
Not the war.
Her.
“Patch audio,” I order.
Static.
Then—
Vera’s voice.
Tight. Controlled. Furious.
“…your building,” she’s saying. “The sniper came from your property.”
My chest goes cold.
Bellini.
Of course she went to him.
“Vera,” a man’s voice answers.
Older.
Measured.
Don Salvatore Bellini.
“You should not be calling me like this.”
“I didn’t ask for permission,” she snaps. “I asked for answers.”
Silence.
Then—
“I did not authorize that attack,” Bellini says.
I don’t breathe.
“You expect me to believe that?” Vera demands.
“I expect you to listen.”
Her breath is audible now.
Shaking.
But holding.
“That building,” she says, “is tied to your logistics chain.”
“Yes,” he replies.
“And someone used it to shoot at me.”
“I know.”
A beat.
Cold.
Careful.
“I am being framed,” Bellini says.
My jaw tightens.
Convenient.
Too convenient.
“That’s what Roman said,” Vera replies.
“Roman is not wrong to question,” Bellini says. “But he is looking in the wrong direction.”
My eyes narrow.
“Then tell me where to look,” Vera says.
A pause.
Long enough to matter.
Then—
“Your husband’s house is not as clean as he believes.”
The words land like a blade.
Viktor glances at me.
I don’t move.
“Explain,” Vera demands.
“Your husband’s consigliere,” Bellini says quietly, “is smiling too much.”
Orlov.
The confirmation hits like a locked mechanism clicking into place.
“Be careful, Vera,” Bellini continues. “You are standing between two predators who have not yet decided who the prey is.”
The line goes dead.
The room is silent.
Except for the blood rushing in my ears.
She called him.
She stepped outside my control.
And she heard exactly what I was trying to confirm.
“Location,” I say.
“Bathroom corridor,” Viktor replies.
I’m already moving.
The door slams open.
Vera stands inside.
Phone in hand.
Eyes sharp.
Unapologetic.
“You’re done,” I say.
She doesn’t flinch.
“No.”
The word lands like defiance carved in stone.
“You made an unauthorized call,” I continue. “You exposed—”
“I got answers,” she cuts in.
“You compromised security.”
“I confirmed what you already suspected.”
“You don’t decide when to take that risk.”
“I already did.”
Silence cracks between us.
My control is razor-thin now.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Loss of control.
Over her.
“You don’t understand what you just did,” I say.
“I understand perfectly,” she replies.
Her voice is steady.
Too steady.
“He’s being framed,” she says. “And you know it.”
“I know he claims that.”
“He warned me about Orlov.”
“I already suspected Orlov.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“So is ignorance!”
The words hit hard.
True.
Uncomfortable.
“You don’t get to keep me blind,” she says.
“I get to keep you alive.”
“I’m not just something you protect.”
“You are something they will destroy if you make the wrong move.”
“I already made the move,” she snaps.
“Yes,” I say. “And now we deal with the consequences.”
She steps closer.
Not backing down.
Not retreating.
“I won’t be managed,” she says.
“You will be if it keeps you breathing.”
“I won’t be your prisoner and your wife.”
The words land between us.
Sharp.
Final.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Because she’s right.
And I’m right.
And this—
This is the fracture point.