“No,” Zarek repeated, the finality in his voice echoing off the kitchen’s marble surfaces.“Boss, please,” Shaw pleaded, his hands animated as he tried to bridge the gap between logic and Zarek’s sheer stubbornness. “Think about the logistics. DNA tests. Childhood memories. The way you move. You don’t look like a boy who went missing… You look like a man who’s conquered nations. You think the Sullivans are just going to open the door and offer you tea?”Zarek didn’t blink. He reached for a clean towel, drying his hands with slow, deliberate movements.“The wives are too busy fighting each other. Robert is too busy playing God. And Masha…” His voice dipped. “Masha is already lost. They aren’t looking for a lie, Shaw. They’re looking for a resolution.”“It’s a death sentence,” Shaw muttered, pacing across the tiles. “One slip-up. One detail you don’t know: his favorite toy, a teacher’s name, and they’ll have you executed in the basement.”Zarek turned his head slightly, his eyes boring

“That isn’t going to happen,” Alessandra snapped, eyes raking over Zarek with pure venom. “You don’t just walk into this house because a madwoman recognizes a silver trinket. We don’t know who this man is, and we certainly aren’t letting a stranger into the inner sanctum until Robert sees a DNA report.”“Step aside, Alessandra,” Masha said, her voice regaining a steel it hadn’t possessed in years.“Or what?” Giorgia challenged, crossing her arms. “You’ll splash soup on us? This Grisha looks more like a thug than a Sullivan. He stays at the gatehouse until morning.”The older man stepped forward, pulling a crisp, sealed folder from his inner coat pocket. He held it out like a shield.“I expected your obstruction,” he said smoothly. “Which is why I took the liberty of performing a preliminary DNA match using hair samples recovered from Masha’s vanity months ago. The results are inside. This man is a ninety-nine percent match to the Sullivan bloodline. He is, beyond any shadow of a doubt

Masha led him down the quiet, carpeted hallway of the West Wing to a set of double doors.When she pushed them open, Zarek stopped dead in his tracks.The room was massive, but it was a nightmare of frozen time.Colorful electric trains circled miniature tracks. Shelves overflowed with stuffed animals. High-end plastic robots stood frozen mid-pose, ridiculous in the presence of a man his size.The wallpaper was a soft sky blue. The air smelled of old lavender and cedar.It was a tomb for a twelve-year-old, preserved with obsessive care.Zarek stared at a miniature race track on the floor, his face a mask of disbelief.Masha noticed his hesitation and flinched. “I… I can change it, Grisha,” she said hurriedly, her voice shrinking. “I know you’ve grown. The bed is king-sized, at least. I replaced that five years ago because I knew you’d be a man when you came back. It will fit you.”She hovered near the door, fingers twitching.“You should freshen up. I… I’m sorry I couldn’t find any fo

Masha shoved past the guards with a strength fueled by pure, maternal hysteria. She had washed her face and looked slightly neater than the night before, but her eyes were still wild, her spirit visibly frayed at the edges.She threw herself in front of Zarek, her small, fragile frame acting as a shield for the giant behind her. Spreading her arms wide, chest heaving, she glared at the armed men and the two wives.“No one touches him!” Masha screamed, her voice echoing off the blue walls. “You will not lay a finger on my Grisha! I don’t care what they told you! I am his mother! I know the blood in his veins because it came from mine!”She turned her head slightly, looking back at Zarek with such fierce, protective love that it momentarily silenced the room.“Don’t be afraid, my boy,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “They won’t hurt you. Not while I’m breathing.”Zarek’s eyes widened a fraction, a rare flicker of genuine shock crossing his face.He looked down at the back of Masha’s

Silence stretched between them.Two predators stood at opposite ends of the room, measuring the air between them. Robert didn’t move. He held the relaxed posture of a man who controlled every string in his empire, yet his eyes were sharp enough to dissect a man alive.“Sit,” Robert commanded, gesturing to the edge of the bed.Zarek didn’t sit. He didn’t even shift his weight. He stood like a pillar of granite, his shadow stretching across the sky-blue wallpaper, making the childish décor look like a mockery.“I’ve spent the last three hours looking at data, ‘Grisha.’ Paperwork. Bone density scans. Blood types,” Robert began, his voice a low, melodic threat. “But paper can be forged. Blood can be manipulated. I want to know why a man with the hands of a butcher and the eyes of a ghost thinks he can walk into my house and claim my name.”Robert stepped closer, his gaze searching for a twitch, a bead of sweat, any sign of the bookish, sensitive boy he had lost.“What was your teacher’s