Page 92 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
"A watch." Matvey's lips curve slightly. "Belonged to my grandfather. My father wanted me to earn it, not just have it handed to me."
The parallel isn't lost on me. My father was doing the same thing, making me work for whatever he left behind, making sure I understood its value.
"Did you figure out the clues on your own?" I ask.
"Eventually." Matvey sets down his coffee. "But I almost gave up halfway through. The last clue was the hardest because it required me to remember something my father told me years earlier. Something I thought was just a story."
Mariya leans forward, her gray eyes bright with interest. "What was it?"
"He told me about a place he used to hide things when he was young. A loose stone in the garden wall behind our house. I'd forgotten about it until the clue made me remember." Matvey's expression softens slightly. "The watch was there, wrapped in cloth. Just waiting for me."
I think about my own childhood, the stories my father told me, the lessons he tried to teach. Most of it was about the business, about loyalty and power and survival. But there were other moments too, quieter ones I'd pushed aside over the years.
"My father used to take me to this old warehouse on the docks," I say, the memory surfacing unexpectedly. "Before it was renovated into offices. He'd show me how the shipping routes worked and where the cargo came in. He said understanding the foundation of our operations was more important than knowing how to fight."
Mariya's hand finds mine on the table, her fingers threading through mine.
We return to the clues after lunch, spreading them across the table again. My hand keeps finding Mariya's thigh as we work, my palm resting against the denim of her jeans. I can't help it. Every time I look at her, I think about the baby. About how everything is about to change.
I'm going to be a father.
The realization hits me again, sharp and overwhelming. I need to set up a nursery. Find the right teachers when the time comes. Hire additional security. Vet every single person who comes near my child.
"Andrey." Mariya's voice pulls me back. "You're staring."
"Sorry." I force myself to focus on the documents in front of me. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"Everything." I squeeze her thigh gently. "The baby. What we need to do. How to keep you both safe."
Her expression softens. "We'll figure it out."
"I know." I lean over and kiss her temple. "But I'm already planning the nursery in my head. And interviewing bodyguards."
She laughs softly. "The baby is probably the size of a pea right now."
"Doesn't matter. I need to be prepared."
Matvey makes a sound that might be amusement, but when I glance at him, his expression is neutral. He's studying one of the photographs, his brow furrowed slightly.
"This location," he says, tapping the image. "I recognize it."
I lean closer. The photograph shows an old building, partially obscured by trees. "Where?"
"Near the eastern docks. It was demolished about five years ago to make room for new development."
Mariya pulls the photograph closer, examining it carefully. "If it's gone, why would my father include it in the clues?"
"Maybe it's not about the building itself," I say slowly. "Maybe it's about what was there before it was torn down."
We spend the next hour cross-referencing the photograph with property records and old maps. The building was owned by a shell company used for storage before it became too expensive to maintain.
But there's nothing in the records that explains why it matters now.
I'm about to suggest we take a break when the library door opens. Sophia steps inside, her expression apologetic.
"Sorry to interrupt," she says quickly. "I was just looking for something to read and didn't realize you were in here."
