Page 86 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

“I know.”

“I want to walk into that school and take him home.”

“I know.”

“I want him to know me.”

Aleksander says nothing. There’s no answer that can make this hurt less.

I look at Ivan again. At Mark. At both of them. “We don’t tear him out of that house.”

Aleksander doesn’t move. “No.”

“I said we don’t. I didn’t say I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

The understanding in his voice hurts almost as much as the photograph. I pull the file toward me. More documents slide free. Hospital records. Adoption papers. Financial transfers.

Then another photograph. Mark Callahan stands outside a university building, one arm around my younger self.

I remember that day. He surprised me in St. Petersburg after I complained endlessly that Papa was forcing me to take an immersion language course. I remember the sweater I was wearing. The coffee Mark spilled on his shoes five minutes later. The argument we had that night over whether our child would have his name or mine.

“What’s this doing here?”

Aleksander’s attention shifts to the photograph. “There’s one more thing.”

His voice changes, and I know I don’t want the rest. “Tell me.”

“The accident that killed Mark wasn’t an accident.”

Something close to vertigo washes over me so fast that the photograph slips out of my grip. “No.”

“Yuri found evidence that it was an ordered hit.”

I don’t need to ask. “Papa killed him.”

“Everything points to Kalinin.”

“He killed the father of my child.”

“Yes.”

The room doesn’t move, but everything in me does. “Then stole my son from me.”

“Yes.” Aleksander’s jaw tightens.

I wait for grief. What comes instead is clarity. I pick up my phone and read the message again. Tomorrow, Papa will think I’m coming to beg for the truth. He has no idea the only leverage he had left is already gone.

Aleksander waits across from me, offering nothing I can attack. The truth is between us. So is what he did with it.

“I’m still furious with you,” I say.

“I know.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“I know.”