“What?” Maxim’s voice is sharp.
“Another fingerprint. One that doesn’t belong to you, me, or Dmitri.”
Maxim curses viciously. “Who the fuck does it belong to?”
“We’re running it now. We should know before morning.”
I can no longer hear what they say after that, as they walk away from earshot. The other fingerprint Viktor is talking about could be mine, I need to let Maxim know before he finds out himself.
After a while, I see Viktor leave and Maxim head toward his study. My heart pounds. I turn around and quietly follow him.
When I reach the doorway, he’s already inside, checking his desk and drawers with angry movements. He looks up and sees me standing there.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice edged with irritation.
I swallow hard. “I have a confession.”
He straightens slowly, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”
I step inside, twisting my fingers together. “The other fingerprint… it might be mine.”
The silence that follows at first is deafening. And then, “What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice is dangerously low.
I force myself to meet his gaze. “A few days ago, after you caught me in here… I came back later. I went through your desk. I wasn’t spying on you, I swear. There was something that caught my attention the first time, those documents about the orphanages. The donations. I didn’t get a good look before you walked in, so… my curiosity won. I just wanted to understand why you were doing it. That’s all.”
Maxim stares at me, fury flashing across his face. “I told you this room was off limits. Why would you go behind my back?”
“I know,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to betray you or dig up secrets. I just… I saw those papers and I wanted to know more about you. About that side of you.”
Maxim folds his arms across his broad chest, leaning against the desk as he studies me with an unreadable expression. The tension in the room is still thick.
“So… what did you find?” he asks.
I blink, caught completely off guard. Out of all the questions I expected, anger, accusations, not this.
“What?”
“You said you wanted to understand my affiliation with the orphanages,” he continues, voice calm but intense. “So tell me. What did you find?”
I swallow, trying to gather my thoughts. “Well… I found out that you donate large sums of money to them. Anonymously. Not just one orphanage, but several.”
He doesn’t react much, just nods slightly. “And? Is that all?”
“Yes,” I say, still surprised by how quietly he’s taking this. “That’s all I was interested in.”
He watches me for a long moment. “You look surprised.”
“I am,” I admit. “Of all the things… I didn’t expect someone like you to have such a strong interest in orphanages specifically. I could understand donating to charity or attending fundraisers, but this feels… personal. Like it matters to you.”
The silence stretches between us as he moves to sit on the edge of his desk, closer to me now. His gaze on me.
I take a small step forward. “Is it personal to you? Why? Not that it’s a bad thing. I actually really like that you do this. It’s… kind. But is there a reason?”
Maxim lets out a deep breath, looking down at the floor for a second before meeting my eyes again.
“Because I was an orphan.”
The words hit me like a quiet storm. I’ve heard rumors, whispers that he was a bastard child, raised outside the main bloodline, but hearing him confirm it so plainly shocks me into stillness.
