Page 74 of Secret Heir

“I think it’s my job,” Alexander says, looking unruffled and cool, unlike Nikolai who is starting to perspire slightly due to the heat. “I’ve been investigating these accounts for months. Of course I have explanations for the patterns you’re seeing. That’s literally what you asked me to do—investigate and explain.”

Nikolai nods. “He has a point, Maksim. You can’t fault him for being thorough.”

I turn to my brother, frustration mounting. “Every concern I raise, he has an answer ready. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Not one hesitation or a ‘let me look into that.’”

“I find it reassuring that the man handling our investigation knows what he’s doing,” Nikolai says coolly. “What are you suggesting, Maksim? That Alexander is lying? That he’s somehow involved in the embezzlement he’s investigating? That makes you sound paranoid.”

Paranoid. Put so bluntly, it sounds absurd. Exactly like what I’ve been accusing Aria of being. The thought makes my stomach twist.

“I’m suggesting we verify his explanations independently,” I say carefully, knowing I’m on thin ice. “Bring in outside auditors. Get a second opinion.”

“And waste time and money because you have a feeling?” Nikolai’s voice hardens. “Alexander is as loyal as they come and you want to treat him like a suspect because his answers are too good?”

“I want to be thorough,” I tell him, my heart hammering.

“You want to be paranoid.” Nikolai stands, clearly done with this conversation. “If there’s embezzlement, it’s middle management skimming. Some ambitious lieutenant who thinks he’s clever. Not some grand conspiracy involving my most trusted advisor.” He glares at me. “You’re questioning his loyalty based on what? A feeling?”

The words sting because they echo what I’ve said to Aria countless times. You need more than a feeling. You need evidence.

The urge to argue and push harder is on the tip of my tongue, but I can see Nikolai’s mind is made up.

“Fine,” I say. But I’m still going to investigate.

I spend the next week digging into Alexander’s personal finances.

He lives well. There’s that eye-watering expensive apartment in Manhattan and his children’s private school tuition fees are obscene. But other than that, he doesn’t live extravagantly. There’s nothing that would raise red flags about his salary.

Except.

There are gaps. Periods where Alexander traveled extensively with no clear business purpose logged in our records and I don’t buy his explanation. Moscow, Cyprus, Marseille, Luxembourg. Places that make sense for organization business, but the trips aren’t documented.

I’m making notes when Daniel finds me in my office late one afternoon. He’s holding a book about pirates, but his expression is serious.

“Maks? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, solnyshko. Come in.” I immediately stop what I’m doing.

He climbs into the chair across from my desk. “What exactly do you do? For work?”

The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I heard Viktor talking to another guard. He said ‘Bratva.’ What does that mean?”

Fuck. I knew this conversation was coming eventually, but I’m not prepared for it now.

“Bratva means ‘brotherhood’ in Russian,” I say carefully. “It’s what we call our organization. The people who work together and protect each other.”

“Like a family?”

I nod. “In a way, yes.”

“But Viktor also said something about protection and territories.” Daniel’s gray eyes are sharp and curious. “What does that mean?”

The urge to lie is strong, to protect his innocence. But I promised myself I wouldn’t lie to my son.

“The Bratva protects our community,” I say slowly. “Russian immigrants, people who came to America looking for a better life. We help them with business, with problems, and staying safe.”

Daniel purses his lips. “Like police?”