Page 125 of Violent Possession

I wasn’t wrong in Istanbul,I think, with the old resentment burning cold in my chest. His operation was full of holes, the money was disappearing. I just couldn’t get the last piece of the puzzle, the final proof that linked his hand to the embezzlement. And Vasily, with his theater of the offended, cried about ‘honor’ and ‘trust’, and my father... my father swallowed the whole performance.

I know he is weighing what is left in me against what is left of Vasily. I know that, even on the brink of death, he would not hand the empire over to someone who cannot destroy his own brother if necessary.

For a moment, only the sound of the oxygen.

“I’m dying, Alexei,” he whispers. “And I won’t leave an empire of chaos behind.” He points to the dossier. “Thisis chaos.”

Angélica takes another step closer, perhaps certain that the scene is reaching its climax. She rests her hand on the back of the armchair with the perfect posture of an anticipated widow.

“You brought this man into the house,” he says. “You protect him from those who have reason to kill him. You have committed yourself.”

There is the same cold calculation as always, the search for the slightest sign of hesitation. I do not give in.

(If I stood still long enough, my father would eventually fossilize before me, becoming just a piece of the room, another trophy among so many.)

He expects me to deny it. He expects pleading, he expects desperation, he expects to see his son lose his composure. I will not give him that pleasure.

“I didn’t commit myself,” I say. “I made aninvestment.”

My father lets out a sound between a laugh and a grunt. He looks like he’s going to suffocate. He gestures to the dossier with juvenile contempt. “An investment. Is that right? You invest in aratand call it astrategy?”

I don’t avert my gaze. “I invest in a tool that knows the smell of all the rats that hide in our walls.” The words come out before I even think them; that’s not why I keep Griffin around, but it is the automatic defense ready. I know that any concession will be used against me. “His betrayaliswhat makes him useful. He knows how a traitor thinks.”

“He knows how a traitor thinks because heisone,” my father growls. “And you put him in the center of everything, just when your brother and cousin need unity the most. You understandnothingabout loyalty, Alexei. You never have. I built all this with blood, sweat, and the fear imposed. Do you think you can keep this empire standing just with algorithms and strategies?”

I don’t yield an inch. “I created systems that tripled your profits in four years. I identified and neutralizedtwentyinternal threats. I am theonlyreason we survived the disaster in Istanbul and the shame that was Odessa.”

The mention of Istanbul is a mistake, but I let it slip on purpose. The old man doesn’t miss the cue. “Istanbul,” he hisses, spitting out syllables as if they were concentrated poison. “You never forgave me for not believing you back then, did you? You needed a rival to justify your own existence.”

The lines of tension form webs on the patriarch’s forehead; his sunken eyes shine with stubborn ferocity.

“I didn’t need to invent any rivalry,” I retort. “He makes a point of playing that role himself. Every week.”

He laughs, a dry sound that seems to tear small pieces of his lung out. “And yet he is the only one who never tried to stab me in the back,” he says.

The accusation is old. It no longer affects me. “I don’t want to stab anyone in the back,” I say, and I point to the dossier, to his own body leaning in the armchair, to the future that drains away with every drop of synthetic oxygen. “While the others celebrate imaginary victories, all I do is to ensure we will still have something to celebrate five years from now.”

I’m surprised the old man hasn’t yet thrown the dossier in my face. He stays there, motionless, weighing his next phrase.

Finally, he speaks. “Are you telling me that this rat—thisGriffin—is more valuable to you than yourown blood?”

This is the trap. If I say yes, I’m a traitor. If I say no, I’m an idiot. So, I cheat: “He is a tool. And too much blood has already been shed for personal reasons in this family. Perhaps it’s time we learned from our enemies.”

Behind him, Angélica wears a faint smile, full of false compassion. The silk statue moves a few millimeters forward, always to the side of the one who is winning.

“You always believed you were the smartest one here,” he says. “I could respect that, if you didn’t disdain the blood that put you on your feet so much.” He taps the red seal of the dossier with his finger. “Use your pet worm to clean our corridors, but if he fails,youwill be the one who pays the price. I’m tired of wasting time on sentimentality. The next failure will be your last.”

Behind everything, the hiss of the oxygen continues, indifferent to the battle fought in that room.

I lean in, pick up the dossier, and make a move to leave.

Before I do, I look at Angélica, who now approaches my father like a velvet shadow, filling his glass with an amber liquid.

She watches me over her shoulder.:

“Dear,” she intones to the old man, but it’s me she’s aiming at. “Don’t get worked up. The doctor recommended absolute rest.”

I don’t reply. I turn and leave, closing the massive oak door behind me.