Nick #2
"But my brother was also a sick man,” he continues.
Gregor shifts in his chair.
“I say this with love," the word love sits in his mouth like something he borrowed and doesn't intend to return.
"I say it because my brother would want the truth spoken in this room, even about himself.
He was not well. And in his illness, he made decisions that may not reflect his clearest thinking. "
He pauses again and looks at me.
"Including," he says, "the matter of succession."
The room doesn't move.
"My brother had one son," Viktor says. "Nikolai.
Thirty-seven years old. Capable. Experienced.
I do not question his competence. But competence is not the only qualification for this chair.
Stability is a qualification. Judgment is a qualification.
The ability to prioritize the family's interests above personal concerns is a qualification. "
He turns to face the table fully.
"My nephew was involved in a car accident a little over a week ago.
Since that accident, his attention has been divided.
He has taken on a personal interest that I believe compromises his focus.
He has directed family resources toward a civilian.
He has assigned men, your men, to watch over a woman who has no connection to this family, no understanding of our world, and no protection of her own to offer in return. "
My hand is flat on the table. I keep it there. I keep my fingers open and my knuckles pressed against the wood because if I close them into a fist, every man in this room will see it and read it exactly the way Viktor wants them to.
"I bring this up not to embarrass my nephew," Viktor says, softening his voice to a concerned hush. "But to ask whether a man whose first act as Pakhan is to divert resources toward a personal attachment is the right man to lead this family through what promises to be a difficult transition."
He sits down.
The room exhales.
I count to five in my head. I look at every face around the table, one at a time, starting with Ivanov and ending with Gregor.
I take each man's measure the way my father taught me, looking for the ones who are leaning toward Viktor and the ones who are waiting for me to respond and the ones who have already made up their minds.
"My uncle raises valid concerns," I say.
Viktor's eyebrows lift. He wasn't expecting agreement.
"My uncle is right that my father was sick.
He is right that the business suffered during that illness.
What he has neglected to mention is that every shortfall of the last six months was covered by me.
Every gap was filled by me. Every decision that couldn't wait for my father was made by me, with his counsel when he could give it and without it when he couldn't. The men in this room who work directly under my command know this. The men who don't can ask them."
I look at Viktor.
"As for the personal matter my uncle has raised.
" I keep my voice even. I keep it low. "I am not going to discuss my private life in this room.
I'm not going to defend it, explain it, or apologize for it.
What I will say is this. Every Pakhan who has ever sat in this chair has had a personal life.
My father married my mother when he was twenty-nine and the family was at war with the Italians.
Nobody in this room questioned whether his wife was a distraction. Nobody in this room would have dared."
A muscle in Viktor's jaw twitches.
"My private life is my own. The resources I allocate are allocated at my discretion, as they will be for every decision I make going forward. If any man at this table believes he has a better claim to this chair than a signed and witnessed succession order, he's welcome to say so now."
The silence that follows is thick. I hold it.
"Gregor," I say without looking away from Viktor.
"Pakhan." Gregor says it firmly. Deliberately.
"Yevgeny."
"Pakhan." Quieter, but solid.
"Alexei."
"Pakhan."
Viktor stands.
"Nephew," he says. His smile is the same smile he wore in my father's bedroom. Warm on the surface. Empty underneath. "I defer, of course. I wished only to ensure the Captains had the opportunity to voice any concerns. Clearly, they have none."
"Clearly," I say.
"I will see you Thursday at the funeral. Your father will be honored." He buttons his coat. "And I look forward to supporting you in any way I can."
Liar, I think, as he walks from the library.
The meeting continues with updates on shipments, routes, product, and then the captains leave one by one until I’m alone in the Library. At ten Dmitri comes in with a look I know all too well.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
“Your father has been taken to the funeral parlor and will be returned by the end of the day. Irina is preparing the drawing room to receive him.”
I narrow my eyes as he shifts onto the balls of his feet.
“What is it Dmitri?” I demand, knowing there’s more.
“It’s Sadie, she hasn’t left for her shift. Hasn’t been out of her apartment at all since you left…something feels off.”
I’m out of my chair before he finishes his sentence.