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"I don't memorize client activity."

"No. Software does that for you."

His eyes flick toward me.

There.

I smile without warmth. "The wonderful thing about financial systems, Stefanos, is that they don't care whether you remember. They remember for you."

I start laying out the transactions. Not everything. But just enough.

A payment to a private security contractor in Serbia. Another to a logistics company operating through Albania. A property acquisition outside Naples. Transfers into consulting firms with no identifiable employees and equipment companies that appear to sell very little equipment.

Drakos's composure begins to erode.

Adrianos says nothing. He lets me work. I notice that too. Yesterday, Karras would already be dead. Today, Adrianos sits beside me and listens.

I bring up another series of payments. "You aren't the architect."

Drakos's eyes snap toward me.

First real reaction.

"That's good news," I continue. "Because if you were, you'd be much better at hiding your administrative fees."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Point six percent."

His face changes.

"You take point-six percent from transactions moving through the private structures you administer. It's small enough not to attract attention, but consistent enough to make you very wealthy."

I turn the laptop around.

"Your mistake was taking the same percentage from funds connected to Vasilev."

Drakos stares at the screen.

Adrianos finally speaks. "Tell her what she wants to know."

The broker looks at him. "And then?"

"Then you continue breathing."

I look sideways at Adrianos. He doesn't return the glance, but I know the words were partly for me.

Drakos notices anyway. "You expect me to trust that?"

"No," I say. "I expect you to understand that your alternatives are significantly worse."

His face pales.

"Who paid Vasilev?"

"I don't know."

"Who gave him information about the penthouse?"