The morning feels too quiet, which probably means some asshole is about to ruin it.
I’m reviewing financial reports in my office when footsteps echo through the penthouse, and I know my suspicions are right. My brother’s voice carries from the main room as he talks to Boris, and his tone makes me close the ledger I’ve been studying.
“Boss is in his office,” Boris replies to whatever question Alexei’s asked.
“Good. Don’t disturb us.”
The footsteps get closer, and I pour myself a glass of vodka even though it’s barely past ten. When Alexei appears in my doorway, the look on his face confirms my instinct about needing alcohol for this conversation.
“Everything is falling apart while you play house with your fake wife.” He steps inside, shuts the door behind him, and drops into the chair across from my desk. “The Mikhailov contract isn’t the only deal we’ve lost.”
I let out a long breath and ask, “What are you talking about?”
“Three more contracts gone this week. The Ivanov shipping arrangement. The Petrov arms deal. The Krasny protection racket. All for the same reason.”
I flip through the documents he’s spread out. Cancellation notices, termination letters, and politely worded rejections that all say the same thing.
“Concerns about organizational stability,” I read aloud from one of the letters.
“Concerns about leadership distraction,” Alexei corrects. “They think you’ve lost your edge because you’re too busy playing husband to focus on business.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You’ve skipped every territorial meeting for weeks. Missed the quarterly dock review. When’s the last time you collected a debt yourself?”
I want to argue, but the specifics are damning. I’ve been sending representatives instead of personally handling business, something I never did before Katya arrived.
“I’m managing priorities.”
“You’ve been hiding. From our operations, difficult decisions, and anything that might interfere with your domestic fantasy.” Alexei taps the folder. “Borisov said dealing with us feels like negotiating with middle management because the boss is too busy to show up.”
“Borisov has always been a problem.”
“Borisov controls three of our most profitable shipping routes. And he’s shopping for new partners because he thinks we’ve gone soft.”
I wave him off and ask, “What else?”
“The street crews are freelancing. Taking side jobs like we’re part-time. Two of our best—Kiril Ivanov and Maxim Federov—already jumped ship.”
Kiril and Maxim have worked for our family for more than five years. If they’re jumping ship, the situation is worse than I realized.
“What about our other personnel?”
“Nervous. Questioning. Some are talking about looking for opportunities with more stable organizations.” Alexei pulls out another set of documents. “Semenov asked if you’re stepping down or if he should start planning succession.”
Semenov asking about succession means my most trusted lieutenant thinks I’m a liability. That’s preparation for regime change. A goddamned coup.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you’re handling a complex situation that requires careful management. But I can’t give that answer indefinitely.”
I pour another glass of vodka and offer one to Alexei, who shakes his head.
“You need to resolve your personal situation before it destroys everything our father built. Every day you spend focused on that woman is a day you’re not focused on protecting our territory,maintaining our relationships, and managing our people. You said you would at least talk to Viktor about handing her over.”
“It’s not time yet,” I argue. “I haven’t figured out how to?—”
“Father built this for twenty years. Grandfather started it from nothing. Three generations bled for it. And you’re throwing it away over one woman.”
