Natalia's laugh is bitter.
"Of course she will." She waves the spoon at me. "Because that's what we do. We feed people. We take care of them. We pretend everything is fine while the world burns around us."
I leave her there.
Buried in blankets. Drowning in ice cream. Watching a cartoon about a fish because reality is too heavy to carry.
The hallway swallows me.
My phone buzzes before I reach my office.
Igor.
I answer.
"Talk."
"We found something." His voice is tight. Controlled. The tone he uses when the news is bad. "On Rogers."
I push open my office door. Close it behind me. Move to the bar cart and pour three fingers of vodka.
"What kind of something?"
"The financial kind." Papers rustle on his end. "His father's company. Rogers Luxury Automotive. They've been cooking the books."
I drink.
The vodka burns down my throat. Settles in my stomach like liquid fire.
"How dirty?"
"Tax evasion. Money laundering. Fraud." Igor pauses. "They've been using their dealerships to wash money for the Corellis."
The glass stops halfway to my mouth.
"The Corellis."
"For the past eighteen months." More rustling. "Small amounts. Nothing that would trigger federal attention. But consistent. Regular. Like clockwork."
I set the glass down.
Move to the window.
The gardens stretch out below. Drake is still there, working the rose bushes. Mrs. Pavlov has joined him, gesturing at something with her hands.
"How certain are we?"
"Very." Igor's confidence is absolute. "I have bank statements. Wire transfers. Invoices that don't match inventory. The whole operation is sloppy. Amateur hour. Like they thought no one would bother looking."
"And James?"
"He knows." A beat. "His signature is on half the documents."
Of course it is.
The entitled little shit who thought he could marry Vittoria.
He's dirty.
