Page 166 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

“Anna Morozov is in your home,” he says.

“Yes.”

“With the boy.”

“Ivan,” I say.

A fraction of stillness enters him.

I smooth one glove over the other in my lap. “My son’s name is Ivan.”

For the first time since I entered, silence takes shape between us.

My father leans back slowly. “You think that distinction helps you?”

“I think it bothers you.”

His smile thins. “You have always mistaken insolence for strength.”

“And you have always mistaken fear for respect.”

The office phone buzzes. Neither of us looks at it. Then it buzzes again. My father’s hand tightens at the edge of the desk, annoyed by the interruption. He presses a button. “Not now.”

A woman’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Mr. Kalinin, Mr. Lebedov is on line two. He says it’s urgent.”

“Tell him I will call back.”

“He said it cannot wait.”

My father picks up the receiver, his attention never leaving me. “Yes?”

At first, nothing changes. His posture remains relaxed. His face stays composed. The man behind the desk is the same man I’ve watched control rooms my entire life.

Then he turns slightly away from me.

“What do you mean, counsel has to review it?”

I sit back.

“The authorization has been active for years.” He lowers his voice. “No. You will not delay the transfer over a clerical question. Then find someone who can sign.”

He listens again. Whatever he hears doesn’t please him.

“I will call you back.”

He hangs up.

My father reaches for his cell phone, scrolls through his contacts, and taps a name.

The line rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He ends the call before voicemail. Taps another name.