Page 89 of Merciless Daddy

“Show me the bottle.”

He held up a half-empty bottle. Only then did her shoulders lower. It was less than an inch. Nobody who had not spent days watching her would have noticed. I did.

She had been sitting rigidly at the dining table since the call connected, one bare foot hooked around the chair leg. Now she released it. Her fingers loosened around the edge of the tablet.

“You’re sure you’re safe?” Kiryl asked.

Her gaze flicked to me.

“I’m safe,” she said.

It landed harder than it should have.

Kiryl caught the glance. His nervous smile turned knowing.

She almost laughed. Her mouth moved, then steadied.

“I’ll call tomorrow,” she said. “Do exactly what they tell you until then.”

“Even Tonio?”

“No. Use judgment with Tonio.”

Tonio entered the shot, put one hand over his heart.

The call ended.

Yelena kept looking at the blank screen for a few seconds. Then she placed it carefully on the table.

The frightened sister disappeared. Not completely. I had learned enough about her by then to know nothing in Yelena disappeared. It went behind armor and waited.

But when Angela turned the wall display to Gianni’s Northbridge records, Yelena straightened and became the pakhan’s daughter again.

Pietro sat next to Angela, silent and watchful. Tonio leaned against the kitchen island with coffee. I stood at the head of the table.

“Gianni began offering money for Yelena’s location six hours after the convoy interception,” Angela said. “He used two intermediaries. One Russian, one attached to Northbridge.”

“How much?” Yelena asked.

“Two hundred thousand for a confirmed sighting. Five hundred for an address.”

“How does he have the fucking money?” Pitero asked.

“He doesn’t,” Angela repllied. “He’ll get her back, seal the marriage, then use his new business to generate the cash.”

“I think he’s worried.” Yelena said.

Angela glanced at her. “That was my conclusion.”

“No,” Pietro countered. “If he were angry, he’d offer one million and make sure everyone knew. Two hundred means he wants volume. Hundreds of cheap reports. He doesn’t trust the people searching.”

Pietro’s eyes shifted to me.

Angela brought up a network diagram. “Northbridge’s tracking system has access to fleet GPS, private aviation bookings, toll records, and several commercial security accounts. It began checking Caruso properties yesterday.”

“Which properties?” I asked.

“Chicago first. Nero. The carriage house. Caruso’s. Dante’s building. Then shell-owned apartments and garages.”