Chapter 4
LUCA
I watch the car pull away through the study window.
Anna sits in the backseat with her phone pressed to her ear, probably calling to check on her children. Her profile is sharp against the passing streetlights, jaw set, shoulders rigid. She looks like she’s preparing for battle rather than leaving it.
Good. I prefer people who don’t break easily.
The car disappears through the gates, and I turn back to my desk.
The Kestrel Maritime files are already spread across the surface, waiting.
I’ve been working toward this moment for three years.
Every loan I acquired, every pressure point I applied, every door I closed on Viktor Kestrel, led to last night.
To a marriage certificate and a consummation that made everything legally binding.
Now comes the actual work.
I pull the operational reports closer and start reading.
The numbers tell a clear story. Viktor’s shipping network is solid, the routes are established, but he made critical errors in judgment.
Borrowed against future earnings that never materialized.
Expanded into markets he didn’t understand. Trusted the wrong partners.
All fixable problems. All opportunities.
My phone buzzes. Pavel.
“Come up.”
Three minutes later, he walks in carrying his tablet. He’s already reviewing something, fingers swiping across the screen.
“Security is ready for when they arrive,” he says without preamble. “Perimeter cameras are active, additional personnel are briefed. The children’s rooms are set up.”
“How many men on rotation?”
“Six right now. You want more?”
“Double it.”
Pavel’s fingers pause on the screen. “That’s excessive for standard household security.”
“This isn’t standard. Viktor had debts with people other than me. Those people know about this marriage now. They know his daughter and grandchildren are living here. If anyone wants leverage against me, or against Viktor through me, those children become targets.”
“You think someone would move against children?”
“I think people do desperate things when they’re owed money they’ll never see. I’m not giving them the opportunity.”
Pavel makes notes. “I’ll have twelve men in rotation by tonight. Anything else?”
I lean back in my chair and study him. He’s been with me long enough to know when I’m working toward something specific.
“The marriage contracts are filed?” I ask.
“This morning. Regulatory approval should come through in four weeks, maybe less. Once that’s done, operational control of Kestrel Maritime transfers to you completely. Viktor can attend board meetings if he wants, but every decision routes through you first.”
“Good. Start preparing the integration plan. I want their shipping routes analyzed against ours, redundancies identified, operational costs cut by twenty percent minimum.”
“That’s aggressive.”
“That’s necessary. Kestrel Maritime has been bleeding money for two years. We stop the bleeding first, then we make it profitable.”
Pavel taps more notes into his tablet. “What about Anna? Does she get any say in how her family’s company is run?”
“No.”
“She might expect it.”
“Then she’ll be disappointed. This was a business transaction. She became my wife, I took control of the company. Those were the terms her father agreed to.”
“And if she pushes back?”
“She won’t. She’s smart enough to know that fighting me helps no one.”
Pavel considers this, then changes direction. “The household staff asked about meals. Should they prepare separate dining for Anna and the children, or are you expecting them at the family table?”
I hadn’t thought about that. Separate meals would be simpler. Less interaction, less potential for conflict. But it would also signal that this marriage is exactly what it is—a transaction with no substance behind it. And I need this to look legitimate from the outside.
“Family table,” I say. “Dinner at seven tonight. Make sure the kitchen knows to prepare something the children will actually eat.”
“You want to establish routine immediately.”
“I want to establish expectations. This is their home now. They’ll adjust faster if we treat it that way from the start.”
Pavel makes another note, then looks up. “Maxim called earlier. He wants to talk to you about the marriage.”
“What about it?”
“He didn’t say. But he sounded concerned.”
I check my watch. “Tell him to come by this afternoon. We’ll handle it then.”
“Understood.” Pavel swipes through something else on his tablet. “One more thing. You asked me to compile a basic file on Anna before the wedding. Do you want me to go deeper?”
“How much deeper?”
“Full background. Employment history going back to university, financial records, medical files, known associates. Everything we can access legally.”
I pause. “Why?”
“Because you married her and you don’t actually know her. Basic due diligence would suggest we should have comprehensive information on someone living in your house with access to your household.”
He’s not wrong. But there’s something else in his tone. Something cautious.
“You think there’s something to find,” I say.
“I think everyone has things they’d prefer to keep private. Whether any of those things matter to you is a different question.”
“Do it. I want the full report in three days.”
“Three days is tight for comprehensive.”
“Then work fast.”
Pavel nods and makes a final note. “Anything else?”
“No. Let me know when Anna arrives.”
He leaves, and I return to the Kestrel Maritime files. Route maps, client contracts, cargo manifests. The kind of information that makes sense. Numbers that follow predictable patterns. Variables I can control.
Unlike my new wife, who looks at me like I’m something she’d scrape off her shoe.
After spending the next two hours reviewing financial projections, I hear footsteps in the hallway. Heavy. Deliberate. Maxim doesn’t knock, just pushes the door open and walks in.
“Pavel said you wanted to see me.” He stays near the door, arms crossed.
“Sit down.”
He doesn’t move. “Is this about Anna?”
“It’s about whatever concerns you have that made you call Pavel instead of me directly.”
That gets him to move. He crosses the room and drops into the chair across from my desk with the kind of forced casualness that tells me he’s more bothered than he wants to admit.
“I want to know how this changes things,” he says.
“Be specific.”
“You got married. To a woman with children. Children who are going to be living in this house, part of this family. I want to know if that affects my position.”
“It doesn’t.”
“You’re sure?”
I close the file in front of me and give him my full attention. “You think two four-year-olds threaten your inheritance?”
“I think people make decisions based on new families all the time. You have a wife now. You might have more children with her. Children born into the marriage instead of—” He stops.
“Instead of what?”
His jaw tightens. “Instead of outside it.”
There it is. The insecurity he’s carried since he was old enough to understand what his mother’s death and my lack of a legal marriage meant for his standing.
“Maxim. Listen to me carefully. You are my son. You are my heir. You have been training to take over my operations since you were twenty years old. You know this business. You know my contacts. You’ve proven yourself capable in every situation I’ve put you in.
Anna’s children don’t change that. Any future children I might have don’t change that. Do you understand?”
He watches me for a long moment. “And if she pushes for her children to have a role? If she wants them involved in the business?”
“They’re four years old. By the time they’re old enough to be involved in anything, you’ll already be running most of my operations. This conversation is about ghosts that don’t exist yet.”
“But they might exist.”
“Then we’ll deal with them when they do. Not before.”
Maxim leans back in his chair. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Alright.”
“Good. Now I need you to handle Dmitri for me. He’s been pushing for a meeting about the new shipping routes through the Baltic. He wants better terms on the transport fees. I want you to make it clear that our terms are final. He either accepts them or we find another partner.”
“And if he threatens to walk?”
“Let him. We have three other operators who’d take the contract within a week. Dmitri knows that. He’s posturing.”
Maxim nods, the conversation shifting to familiar territory. We spend the next twenty minutes discussing logistics, contract terms, backup plans. This is what we do well together. Business. Strategy. Clear objectives with measurable outcomes.
When he stands to leave, I stop him. “Dinner tonight. Seven o’clock. Be here.”
He turns. “Why?”
“Because Anna and her children will be here. Because this is a family dinner. Because I’m asking you to be here.”
“You don’t ask. You tell.”
“Then consider yourself told.”
A slight smile crosses his face. “I’ll be here.”
After he leaves, I return to the files on my desk, but my focus has shifted.
I’m thinking about Anna arriving later today with two children who don’t know me.
About a family dinner that will be awkward at best, hostile at worst. About a wife who agreed to this marriage but looks at me like she’s planning my funeral.
Variables I thought I had accounted for.
I’m starting to realize I miscalculated.