Maksim is in a meeting with Philadelphia Bratva associates—something about territory disputes with Brooklyn crews. I slipaway around 10:00 AM, take a car service to the train station, and board the next train to Manhattan.
My phone buzzes immediately. A text from Sergei:
The Pakhan won't be pleased.
I don't respond.
By 2:00 PM, I'm at the gallery. Maya has everything prepared—documentation spread across my office desk, photographs of damaged pieces, security footage queued up for review.
"Thank god you're here," she says, hugging me. "The insurance company has been impossible. They want to contest half the claims."
We work through the paperwork. It's tedious, detailed, exactly the kind of thing I needed to be here for. Maya brings tea—my favorite Russian blend that I keep in the office storage.
"You look exhausted," she observes, pouring. "Are you sleeping?"
"Not much." I take the cup, grateful for the warmth. "It's been a difficult few days."
By 3:00 PM, we've made good progress. I'm reviewing the last set of photographs when I feel it.
Dizziness. Sudden and overwhelming.
"Sonya?" Maya's voice sounds distant. "Are you okay?"
The room tilts. My stomach churns.
"I don't—" I try to stand. My legs won't cooperate.
The teacup slips from my fingers. Shatters on my office floor.
Maya is beside me immediately, catching me as I slump forward. "Sonya! Sonya, stay with me!"
I can't. Can't focus. Can't breathe properly. Everything is spinning, and my body isn't responding to my commands.
I hear Maya on the phone. "911. I need an ambulance. My boss—she collapsed—I don't know—"
Paramedics. How did they get here so fast? Hands on me, checking vitals, asking questions I can't answer.
One of them picks up the shattered teacup and takes it away to have it analyzed.
Anton.
Anton poisoned my tea. I’m sure
He knew I'd come back. Knew I'd drink my favorite blend and poisoned it maybe days ago. Just waiting for me to return.
Act II, his note had said.
This is Act II.
I try to speak, to tell the paramedics about Anton, about the threat, about everything. But the words won't come.
The last thing I hear before darkness takes me is Maya's voice, sharp with fear: "I'm calling Mr. Petrov. He needs to know."
MAKSIM
I'm in my office, reviewing territory maps with three of my most trusted men. Discussing the Brooklyn situation, planning responses, doing the work of running Philadelphia.
Sergei told me she left at 10:00 AM.
