I dug deeper and found something more interesting. A document outlining the structure of what it called “the organization.”
The Pakhan was the boss. Below him were advisors, the Sovietnik. Then came the Brigadiers, who ran different operations. Under them were the soldiers—the muscle. The enforcers.
Dante’s name appeared near the top. Not the Pakhan, that was his brother, Caspian, but positioned as one of the key Brigadiers.
I felt my hands begin to shake, and my heart turned frantic. Dante wasn’t just a guy in the Bratva. Hekeptthe machine running. The way he owned every room and the way he acted like nothing could touch him suddenly made perfect sense.
I kept flipping through the pages and came across a set of financial records. At first glance, it looked standard. But then I noticed monthly payouts so large that it made my stomach turn. The numbers didn’t just show wealth. They showed reach, control, and influence beyond my wildest imagination.
A few of the names attached to those payments were familiar to me. A city councilman from New York, a media executive, and a federal judge who is on his way to becoming a Supreme Court Justice.
Just how powerful were these people? I made a quick mental note of the names I could for my father. Perhaps, if I managed to take these to him, it could prove useful to him. I lost myself in a little daydream, imagining the look of pride on Papa’s face when I brought him solid information.
My whole life, Papa had held me to the highest standards. Growing up, he was always hard on me. Nothing I did was ever good enough. I used to hate him for that, but now, I wonder if it’s because he simply wanted to push me to reach greater heights.
Just the thought of making him proud set my heart racing with anticipation.
I looked down at the names again.
This was gold… for someone like me. But my father? The Federal prosecutor? He probably knew how the Bratva functioned and needed more.
I was searching through the drawers by Dante’s desk when a distant sound made me freeze. A door closing, followed by footsteps?
Shit.
I quickly returned the folders to their place, making sure everything looked untouched. My heart was hammering so hard, I felt like I couldn’t think straight.
Then I heard some more sounds and knew that someone wasdefinitelyin the house.
Oh my god. What if Dante were back early? I completely forgot today was Saturday. What if he had a quick meeting out? What if he were making his way to the office now?
I needed to get out of here as fast as I could. I rushed to the door and peeked out of the keyhole. Only when I saw nothing suspicious did I open the door, just a crack, and peer out.
The hallway to my left and right remained empty, and I held my breath and winced as I stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind me.
And then?
With a frantic heart, I moved slowly down the hall, looking at the art pieces lining the walls, trying to aim for casual. If Dante had come home early and was en route here, I could pretend I was just exploring.
Once I reached the landing of the stairs, I started to panic. What if he saw me and decided to say nothing just then?
Oh my god.
What if he had a camera in his office?
What the hell was I thinking?
And just like that, my brain left the building.
I picked up the pace and ran down the stairs, heading for the back of the house, from where I could run out to someplace that would give me a solid reason for being where I was.
Going out for a walk seemed like the best alibi.
I burst through the back doors onto the patio, grateful for the air. And only when I caught my breath did I realize I wasn’t alone.
Water splashed. Droplets caught sunlight like diamonds.
Because there, cutting through the crystal-blue water of the infinity pool, was Dante.
