Page 84 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

The word catches in my throat. Aleksander doesn’t correct me.

“Her husband, Pavel, worked for your father. He was involved in removing Mark from the hospital. He died in a car accident eighteen months ago.”

“And Anna?”

“There’s no indication she knew the adoption was illegal.”

“She thinks he’s her son.”

“Yes.”

My attention shifts to the photograph again. Her hand at his shoulder. His body angled toward hers without thought or caution.

“Does she treat him well?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“We’ve watched them.”

The answer should make me recoil. Instead, I need more.

“He goes to school regularly. He has friends. Piano lessons. A recital this weekend. Anna’s parents are listed as emergency contacts. The neighbors know them. His teachers know him.” Aleksander pauses. “He’s loved, Tamara.”

The word breaks something open. I press the heel of my hand against my mouth.

Loved.

Thank God.

The relief is so enormous it becomes grief. All these years, some part of me imagined what he would have been like if he had lived. And now I know part of it, at least.

He has had birthday cakes. School pictures. Someone checking his temperature in the middle of the night. Someone who knows what he will and will not eat. Someone he calls when he is frightened.

I lower my hand. “Where is he?”

Aleksander removes a sheet from the file and places it on the desk between us. An address outside Woodstock, barely two hours away. Close enough that I could be there before dark.

My body moves before the thought finishes. I reach for my coat.

“Take me there.”

“I will.”

Aleksander’s gaze remains steady on mine. “If that’s what you decide, I will take you.”

My hand closes around the back of the chair.

“But you need to know what happens when we arrive.”

“He’s my son.”

“Yes.”

“I have spent eight years believing he was dead.”

“Yes.”