Page 49 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

“Through records and intermediaries. School forms. Periodic welfare checks. People close enough to confirm the boy’s location and condition, not close enough to expose Kalinin.”

“Money?”

“Not anymore. Nothing obvious after Morozov’s death except the account Anna found.”

I have to put the page down before I crease it.

“She knows none of this?”

“No indication.”

I move to the windows before I realize I’ve stood. Below us, Manhattan keeps going. Rain. Traffic. Ordinary lives. Somewhere nearby, there’s an eight-year-old boy whose mother believes he died before she ever held him properly.

And I understand, finally, why Tamara seems to be trapped even when nobody is touching her.

Igor watches me carefully. “You can’t tell her yet.”

“I know.”

The truth belongs to her. But not like this. Not while her son is only an entry in an unverified file and Kalinin still has enough reach to move him before we get there.

I file that away as a problem for later.

“Do we have a current address?” I ask.

Yuri slides another page across the desk. “Probable one. We’re still confirming movement patterns.”

I look down at the paper. “The boy’s name?” I ask.

Yuri checks the file. “Tamara named him Mark,” he says quietly. “The adoptive records list him as Ivan Morozov.”

She named him after the boy’s father, both of them gone. A real little boy sleeping somewhere under another family’s roof.

“Keep digging,” I say, closing the file. “I want every intermediary, every payment route, every Kalinin contact tied to this.”

Yuri nods once.

“And the widow?” Igor asks quietly.

“She’s collateral too.”

I hate the word as soon as I say it, but it is accurate. The widow took the boy in good faith, raised him, built her life around him. Whatever Kalinin did, she didn’t do it. And that is going to make this harder than it needs to be.

My phone buzzes against the desk. A message from Tamara.

Tamara:

Can I move the sofa in the living room?

I stare at the screen for a long moment. Then another message appears.

Tamara:

I’m asking because I’m behaving responsibly

Despite the file on my desk, a short breath almost resembling laughter escapes me.

Igor notices immediately. “Oh no,” he says flatly. “You’re smitten.”