Smart. She's fucking smart when she's not busy being terrified.
We spend an hour going through files. I show her the organizational structure, explain how legitimate businesses interface with less legitimate operations, and point out which companies are pure cover and which actually turn a profit.
She absorbs it all, asks questions that prove she's tracking the complexity.
"Why are you showing me this?" She finally asks, looking up from a shipping manifest.
"Because you're part of this now." The words come out easier than expected. "Part of my world. And I want you to understand it."
"Your world." She repeats it slowly. "The world where people get dragged out of nightclubs bleeding. Where you come home covered in blood. Where armed men patrol your house like it's a military compound."
"Yes." I don't apologize for what I am. "That world. The one you walked into when you agreed to spy on me."
She flinches.
"But also this world." I gesture at the monitors. "Legitimate business. Building something that lasts. Providing for my daughter's future." I move closer, back her against the desk. "The world I'm letting you into because Mila loves you. And because I want to trust you."
"Want to?" Her voice is small. "But you don't."
"Not completely." Honesty seems important right now. "You're still hiding something. Still scared of whoever keeps calling. Still lying about parts of your story."
Tears well in her eyes.
"But I'm choosing to believe the important parts are real." My thumb brushes her cheek. "The way you care about Mila. The fear when you thought I'd hurt your family. The relief when I touch you instead of threatening you." I lean closer. "Those parts I believe."
"They are real." She's crying now. "Everything I feel, that's real. I swear it's real."
I want to believe that.
The realization should terrify me.
Mikhail walks into my office a week later, face grim.
"Boss, we need to talk."
I know that tone. That's his 'you're fucking up, and I'm going to tell you about it' tone.
"Make it quick."
"You're getting sloppy." He doesn't sugarcoat it. "Distracted. You missed the Armenian situation escalating because you were showing Valerie the import manifests. Nearly lost the Ricci deal because you were too busy explaining organizational structure to notice he was testing you."
My jaw tightens. "I'm handling it."
"Not anymore, it doesn’t look like it, boss." He steps closer, voice dropping. "Because from where I'm standing, you're letting a woman we know is a spy deeper into operations every day. You're sharing information that could destroy us. And you're doing it because your daughter smiles at her and she's good in bed."
"Watch it."
"I'm your Vor, Lev. My job is to tell you when you're about to fuck yourself." His eyes are hard. "And right now? You're about to fuck yourself. That girl is still hiding something. Still getting calls she won't explain. Still lying about who sent her and why."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because Mila's thriving." The words come out harsher than intended. "Because my daughter laughs now. Talks. Doesn't wake up screaming every night. Because Valerie's the first person since Katya who's made this house feel less like a fucking mausoleum."
Mikhail's expression softens slightly. "I get it, boss. I do. But you're vulnerable right now. And vulnerable men make mistakes that get them killed."
"Noted."
