Page 9 of Fake Marriage Mafia Triplets

“I am.”

“You’ve been alive this entire time.” She stops three feet away from me, and her composure holds because she’s a Rusakov and composure is the only inheritance our father gave us that’s actually useful. “You let me grieve you for four years, and you let a stranger find out you’re alive before your own sister did.”

I start to explain, and she cuts me off.

“Don’t you dare tell me the situation required it. You made a decision about my life without asking me, and then you spent four years letting me live with the consequences.” Her voice stays level, but she grips the strap of her bag until her fingers whiten. She’s obviously on the verge of striking me, which I deserve. “We’re going to have that conversation, Nikita. I’m giving you until the end of the week.”

She walks past me toward the dining room. Rage still emanates from her.

Adrian Tikhonov arrives last, forty minutes after Vera, through the north entrance off the access lane. He carries a leather briefcase and moves through the foyer with unhurried confidence. He’s walked this house for decades. He’s been managing the Rusakov estate trust since my father’s tenure and has served as sole administrator since my death was declared.

“I brought the full estate-activity reports and the verification-review paperwork,” he says, setting the briefcase on the hall table. “The trust retains a fiduciary compliance firm to audit the estate and confirm any claim against it, and that firm exists for exactly this reason, so no one can loot a dead man’s holdings behind a forged document. It has already flagged the irregular access. We’ll need Piper Voss to sit for a formal verification of the marriage within the next forty-eight hours, or the firm escalates to an independent audit that pulls in the county and the tax authorities both.”

I bring everyone into the dining room, where Platon has set up his laptop and arranged the file box contents across the long table. Piper enters last. She stops beside the chair nearest the exit but doesn’t sit down. She plants her feet, clasps her hands in front of her, and lifts her chin. She maintains a careful stillness, keeps her shoulders squared, and never shifts toward the exit. She clearly won’t let these people see her fold.

Vera gives Piper the same cold appraisal she’s used for decades when deciding who belongs at the Rusakov table. Angelina looks from Piper to me and presses her lips together, but she keeps her conclusions to herself. Mila, seated near the window with her medical bag at her feet, gives Piper a brief professional once-over and returns to her coffee. Adrian opens his briefcase and arranges his documents without glancing up.

“She forged a marriage certificate, used it to access this estate, and sold pieces from Mama’s personal collection to strangers in eleven separate sales,” Vera says, addressing me as though Piper isn’t present. “Arkadi Rusakov would have treated a forged marriage as an attack on the family name. He wouldn’t have put the forger in his study and called a meeting to discuss her future.”

“My father would have done several things I don’t intend to repeat,” I say.

“Your father understood that the Rusakov name carries obligations.” Vera folds her hands on the table. “A forger who counterfeits that name should face consequences, not a committee.”

Angelina cuts in before I can respond. “I’m less interested in what Papa would have done than I am in why my brother let me believe he was dead for four years while a stranger with a notary stamp walked into his house and found out the truth before I did.” She addresses the table without looking at me. “We can discuss the woman’s future after someone explains mine.”

The silence after that lasts three seconds. Piper breaks it. “Every piece is traceable.” She addresses the room directly, standing her ground beside the exit chair while Vera’s stare could cut steel. “I kept receipts, buyer contacts, and transaction records for every sale. My resale partner has the complete file. I can give you the recovery chain for every item within forty-eight hours.”

“You kept receipts of theft.” Vera turns toward Piper, finally addressing her directly, and Piper doesn’t step back.

“I’m thorough.”

Platon leans forward. “She stays contained until we recover every item she sold and confirm who’s seen the paperwork. Until then, she doesn’t leave this property, she doesn’t contact anyone without monitoring, and she doesn’t access any part of the house without escort.” He closes the laptop lid halfway. “I also want a full accounting of every person who entered this estate during her three months of access, including service workers, delivery personnel, and anyone else who might have seen her operating inside the house.”

Piper nods. “I can provide that. I used the estate for three months, and foot traffic stayed minimal. I avoided scheduling any visits that overlapped.”

Platon acknowledges this with a short nod of his own, the first indication that he finds any part of her conduct professionally acceptable.

Mila sets down her coffee. “If Shilov’s network already has her name, making her disappear creates complications. A woman connected to a forged estate claim doesn’t vanish quietly. There will be a legal trail, medical records, and contacts who’ll report her missing. Removing her from the situation creates more exposure than managing her presence.” She turns to Piper. “Do you have any preexisting medical conditions I should know about?”

“I’m healthy,” Piper says reluctantly.

“That’s good. If you’re staying in this house under sustained threat conditions, I’ll need to do a baseline examination.” Mila retrieves her coffee without further comment.

Adrian clears his throat. “The more immediate concern is the forged marriage itself. If the estate-service firm discovers the certificate is fraudulent during their verification review, we lose control of the estate entirely. Every transaction she made becomes evidence of criminal access, and the resulting investigation exposes activity I’ve been managing quietly for four years.” He opens a folder and produces a printed timeline. “The verification team will send two examiners. They’ll review the marriage certificate, cross-reference the filing date against public death records, and interview the listed spouse. If the listed spouse can’t produce consistent identification, travel history, and a plausible account of the marriage, the review escalates within seventy-two hours.” He sets the timeline on the table. “The dormant accounts attached to the sold assets are a secondary concern. The primary exposure is the forgery.”

An attorney would reasonably prioritize an active fraud review over dormant accounts. It is the correct call, and Adrian has always made correct calls, which is why my father kept him and why I have never once had cause to read his files as closely as everyone else’s. I let the point stand and move on.

“What has Lazar done?” I ask.

Platon pulls up a screen on his laptop. “Since the photographs were uploaded last night, Lazar Malenkov has asked about the cigarette case through three separate auction channels. He’s mapping the sale chain to identify the seller, not trying to recover the piece. He wants to know who accessed the estate.”

“Which means he’ll reach Maren within the week,” Piper says. She hasn’t moved from her standing position beside the door, and her voice stays steady despite what that information means for her closest friend. “She’s the contact point for every buyer I used. If Lazar traces the auction channel back to Maren’s broker list, he’ll have my name within days.”

Vera looks from Piper to Platon without immediately repeating her demand that Piper leave. Angelina watches me. Mila takes a slow sip of coffee.

“She can’t stay here,” Vera says.

“She stays contained until we’ve recovered every piece and neutralized Lazar’s search,” Platon says. “Letting her leave while Shilov’s enforcer is actively tracing the sale doesn’t protect the family. It exposes us.”