Page 97 of The Pakhan’s Debt by Leona White

Nina’s mouth tightens. “Convenient page. Semyonov uses missing pages when he wants a second buyer.”

I press both hands flat on the table. “The file isn’t missing anything. He’s waiting to see who pays first.”

Leonid turns the folder toward Nina. “Can Rykova move tonight?”

Nina scans the page, then nods once. “Yes, if we give her protection and a clean payment. She can pull the old scan, certify it, and put her seal on it before Filatov finishes pretending to review.”

Maksim looks at Leonid. “Paperwork?”

Leonid picks up his pen. “I’ll draft the request and route it through the old archive channel. No one gets to say we forced her hand.”

Maksim turns to the door. “Dima handles protection. Abramov handles the payment.”

I glance at him. “That sounds like bribery with better shoes.”

“It is.”

“Fine. Make sure the shoes are quiet.”

Maksim’s mouth almost curves. Then Leonid’s tablet buzzes, and he turns it toward us.

“Petrov,” he says. “Moretti sent a formal demand through Trieste. They want transfer talks within forty-eight hours.”

I read the last line twice.

Listed continuity access.

My hand moves to my stomach before I stop it. Maksim’s hand lands on the table beside mine, close enough that his knuckles almost touch my wrist.

“They’re moving fast,” Nina says.

Leonid scrolls again. “Two warehouse banks want ownership clarified. If they pause the accounts, freight invoices stall by morning.”

“Fuel?” Maksim asks.

“Two companies can run one more day,” Leonid says. “After that, trucks sit, deliveries slip, and everyone watching the routes knows something broke.”

I look at the wall maps. Warehouses. Fuel. Hotels. Construction. Security. Sergei tied all of it to my name, and now men are pulling at each piece to see what comes loose.

“We need the meeting,” I say.

Maksim rises from beside my chair and catches my wrist before I can set the sequence down. His grip is hard enough to stop me, almost hard enough to hurt.

“Do you understand what they’ll see when you walk into that meeting?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

I look at his hand around my wrist, then up at his face. “The listed woman. The owner they think they can force. Sergei sees a pregnant daughter he still thinks he can use.”

His grip eases by one careful inch, but he doesn’t let go. “And what are you?”

I look down at the sequence in my hand.

“The trap.”

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