Chapter 13 Luca
LUCA
Twenty-four hours feels longer than it should.
I’m in a meeting with Dmitri and his associates when my mind drifts. They’re discussing transport logistics for the new Baltic route, something about fuel costs and port fees. Numbers that should have my full attention.
Instead, I’m thinking about a hotel bar five years ago.
I was drinking alone. That much I remember. Whiskey, neat. Three glasses, maybe four. A deal had collapsed that afternoon. Six months of negotiation destroyed because the other party got cold feet at the last minute.
There was a woman. Dark hair. I remember that clearly now that I’m looking for it. She was with a blonde friend. They were laughing about something. The dark-haired one caught my eye. Or I caught hers. The details blur together.
“Luca?” Dmitri’s voice pulls me back. “Do you agree with the revised percentage?”
I have no idea what he just said. “Send the proposal to Pavel. He’ll review it.”
Dmitri looks confused. Pavel handles enforcement, not logistics. But he doesn’t argue.
The meeting ends thirty minutes later. I return to my office and close the door.
Five years ago. March or April, based on when the twins were born. I pull up my calendar from that period. Meetings, negotiations, shipments. My schedule was packed. Which deal fell through?
I scroll back through emails. Find one dated March 18th, five years ago. Subject line: “Volkov - RE: Partnership Termination.”
That was it. The Bulgarian shipping contract. Boris Markov backed out two days before signing. Cost me millions in projected revenue. I went to a hotel bar that night. The Metropolitan. Drank until the anger dulled. There was a woman in a red dress.
Did I ask her name? I don’t think so. She didn’t ask mine. We went upstairs. The sex was good. Intense. I left before she woke up because I had an early meeting.
Two months later, I made the vow. No more random encounters. No more distractions. The next woman I touched would be my wife.
I might have gotten someone pregnant before that vow ever took effect.
My phone rings. Maxim.
“What?” I answer.
“Are you busy? I need to discuss the Kozlov situation.”
“Not now.”
“It’s time-sensitive—”
“I said not now.”
I hang up.
The Kozlov situation can wait. Everything can wait until I have those test results.
I stand and walk to the window. The city spreads below, thousands of buildings, millions of people. Somewhere down there, Lina Petrov is probably congratulating herself on whatever she thinks she accomplished by coming to my office.
Or she’s terrified I’ll retaliate for wasting my time.
Both options have merit.
My office door opens. Pavel walks in without knocking.
“The hotel footage doesn’t exist,” he says. “Metropolitan purges security recordings after eighteen months. There’s no visual evidence from five years ago.”
“What about credit card records? Would they show if I paid for a room that night?”
“I checked. You didn’t pay for a room, but the bar tab shows you were there. March 18th, five years ago. You spent three hours at the bar and charged eight drinks to your personal card.”
Eight drinks. That explains why my memory is fragmented.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“The background on Lina Petrov. She works as an administrative assistant at a medical supply company. Salary is forty-two thousand annually. She has eighteen thousand in credit card debt, and her rent is overdue by three weeks.”
“So she’s desperate for money.”
“Very. Which explains why she came to you expecting payment.”
I turn from the window. “What’s her connection to Anna beyond university?”
“They’ve been friends for eight years. Lina was Anna’s roommate for two years before Anna moved back in with her parents after the twins were born. According to social media, they were close. Regular outings, dinners, events. Then Anna married you, and the contact stopped.”
“Anna cut her off.”
“Or Lina became resentful when Anna’s circumstances improved.”
Both are plausible. Both lead to Lina showing up at my office with information she thought was valuable.
“When will the results be ready?” I ask.
Pavel checks his watch. “Four more hours. The lab is expediting, but DNA analysis takes time.”
Four hours.
I sit back down at my desk. “I’m working from here until then. Hold all calls except emergencies.”
Pavel nods and leaves.
I try to focus on the contracts in front of me. A shipment agreement with suppliers in Singapore. Updated terms for the Moscow distribution network. Standard business that requires signatures and approval. But my mind keeps circling back to the twins.
Alexei crashed into me this morning in the hallway. Green eyes looking up at me with careful assessment. The way he considered my suggestion about strategy was instead of dismissing it outright. Is that mine? That calculating nature?
Mila’s sharp response when I said predicting movement was winning, not cheating. The immediate defense of her position. Anna does that. Argues every point, refuses to concede. But is it genetic or learned behavior?
I’ve barely interacted with them. Anna has made sure of that. Every time I get within proximity, she intervenes. If Lina is telling the truth, Anna has been keeping my own children away from me while I lived in the same house.
That level of deception requires intent. Planning. She recognized me at the wedding. She knew I was their father. And she chose to say nothing. Why?
Fear, maybe. She saw what I do, who I am, and decided her children were safer if I never knew they were mine.
Or spite. Keeping them from me as punishment for forcing the marriage.
Or strategy. Information is leverage. She might have been planning to use the truth later when she needed something.
None of these options make her look good.
My door opens again. I look up, ready to tell Pavel I said no interruptions.
It’s not Pavel.
Anna walks in, closing the door behind her. She looks exhausted.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I came to talk.”
“About?”
“About whatever you’re planning.” She crosses her arms. “You’ve been different today. Distracted. Watching the twins like you’re studying them. What’s going on?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Everything about my children concerns me.”
“Your children live in my house. That makes them my concern too.”
“Since when? You’ve never cared about them before.”
“I’ve always cared. You’ve just been too busy blocking access to notice.”
She shakes her head. “Something changed. Yesterday, you were arguing with me in the hallway. Today you’re analyzing them. What happened?”
“I’m allowed to observe children living in my household.”
“Observe. That’s an interesting word choice.” She moves closer to my desk. “What are you looking for?”
“What do you think I’m looking for?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
We stare at each other across the desk. She’s trying to read me, figure out what shifted. But I’ve spent thirty years controlling my expressions. She won’t see anything I don’t want her to see.
“Go home, Anna.”
“This is my home too. Whether I like it or not.”
“Then go back to the estate. I have work.”
“Luca—”
“We’re done here.”
She stands there for another moment, searching my face for answers. Then she turns and walks out without another word.
I wait until the door closes. Then I pull out my phone and text Pavel: How much longer?
Three hours.
At six o’clock, I’m standing at the window again when Pavel walks in. He’s holding a manila envelope.
“The results?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I take the envelope. Don’t open it immediately. Just hold it and look at Pavel. “What do they say?”
“You should read it yourself.”
I open the envelope and pull out the report. Medical terminology, genetic markers, probability percentages. Bottom line, highlighted in yellow: Probability of Paternity: 99.97%
Positive match. The twins are mine.
I set the report on my desk and stare at it.
Five years. Anna has known for five years that I fathered her children. She tried to find me after that night. Learned who I was. And decided to keep them secret.
Then her father’s debt brought us together. She walked into that wedding venue, saw me standing there, and recognized me immediately. She married me, knowing exactly who I was. Knowing those children sleeping under my roof every night are mine.
And she said nothing. Kept them away from me. Blocked every attempt I made to connect with them. Lied to my face when I asked about their father.
The anger is cold. Controlled. The kind that doesn’t explode but calculates.
“Call Viktor and Svetlana,” I tell Pavel. “Tell them to come to the estate immediately. Tonight. Not negotiable.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Confront Anna. With her parents present.”
“Why the parents?”
“Because this affects the entire arrangement. Viktor signed his daughter over to me as part of our deal. He needs to know she’s been lying about my children living under my roof.”
Pavel nods. “I’ll make the calls. Anything else?”
“Yes. Have the staff bring Anna to my study at the estate. Tell her it’s not optional. And make sure the twins are with their nanny. I don’t want them anywhere near this conversation.”
“When?”
“Nine o’clock. That gives Viktor and Svetlana time to get there.”
Pavel leaves to make the arrangements.
I pick up the DNA report and read it again. 99.97%. No room for doubt. No margin for error. Mila and Alexei are mine. My children. And Anna kept them from me while sleeping in my bed, taking my money, and living in my house.
I put the report back in the envelope and walk out of my office.
The drive back to the estate takes thirty minutes. Pavel follows in a separate car. When we arrive, the staff is already moving according to the instructions he sent ahead. I go directly to my study and wait.
At nine o’clock, footsteps approach. The door opens.
Anna walks in. She sees me behind the desk and stops. “What’s this about?” she asks.
“Close the door.”
She does. “Luca, what’s going on?”
“Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Sit. Down.”
She sits slowly, eyes never leaving my face.
I open the envelope and pull out the DNA report. Place it on the desk facing her.
“Read it,” I say.