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Samuil crouches beside Gregory, his expression darkening as he examines the damage. "Someone was looking for something."

"The question is," Gregory says quietly, "did they find it?"

26

SAMUIL

Ireach into the secret compartment in Ivan's desk carefully, my fingers brushing against leather and paper. The space is deeper than it appears from the outside, extending back into the desk's structure. Whoever designed this knew what they were doing.

"Pull everything out," I tell Gregory. "Carefully. I want to know exactly what was in here."

He nods and begins extracting items one by one. First come bundles of old correspondence, letters tied with faded ribbon that look like they've been sitting untouched for decades. The paper is yellowed with age, the ink slightly faded but still legible. I flip through a few quickly, scanning the contents. Business correspondence, mostly. Discussions about shipping routes, territory agreements, and financial arrangements between families.

Nothing that would warrant breaking into a hidden compartment since these are old and outdated. Next are financial ledgers in thick books bound in worn leather. Gregory sets them on the desk in a neat row while I examine the spines. They're labeled by year, dating back to Ivan's father's time. I open one at random and find meticulous records of legitimate business operations. Still nothing worth stealing.

Then Gregory pulls out a leather journal, smaller than the ledgers but clearly well-used. The cover is scuffed and worn smooth in places from years of handling. I take it from him immediately, recognizing the significance before I even open it. This isn't business documentation. This is personal.

I flip through the pages carefully, my eyes scanning the handwritten entries. The script is neat and precise, the kind of penmanship they don't teach anymore. Ivan's father or maybe even grandfather wrote this, documenting not just business dealings but family history. Generations of cooperation between Rostovas and Galkins, stretching back further than I expected.

The guardianship arrangement is detailed here in ways I've never seen before. Not just the responsibilities each family carried, but the reasoning behind them. The ancient agreements that bound our families together long before the Bratva existed in its current form. The journal describes how Galkins protected certain knowledge while Rostovas maintained the bloodline connections to old aristocracy.

It's fascinating, but nothing in it is shocking. Nothing that would make someone desperate enough to break into Ivan's private study and risk discovery. Which means whoever wanted this journal doesn't know what's actually in it. They're searching blindly, hoping to find something incriminating or valuable. That makes them dangerous in a different way. Desperate people make mistakes, but they also take bigger risks.

"Anything useful?" Ana's voice comes from behind me. She's moved closer, trying to see what I'm reading.

"Family history," I say, closing the journal. "Documentation of the guardianship arrangement between our families."

"Is that what they were looking for?" She gestures to the damaged compartment.

"Maybe. Or maybe they were hoping for something else entirely." I tuck the journal under my arm. "Or maybe they found what they wanted. Either way, I'm taking this with me. I want to read it properly."

Gregory finishes removing everything from the compartment and examines the empty space carefully. "Nothing else hidden inside. Just what we pulled out."

"Bag the correspondence and ledgers," I order. "I'll go through them later if needed. Right now, we need to focus on finding Ivan."

The afternoon drags on with more searching. Ana insists on helping, moving through the Rostova estate room by room despite my irritation at the risk she's taking. But I let her continue under heavy guard because she notices things the rest of us miss. Small details that only someone who grew up here would recognize.

She pauses in a sitting room, frowning at a side table. "This vase is wrong."

"Wrong how?" I move to stand beside her.

"It's usually in the main hallway. My father never moves it because it was my mother's favorite." She touches the porcelain gently. "Someone's been in here, rearranging things."

It's a small observation, but it confirms what we already suspected. Someone has been through this house searching for something. The question is whether they found it, and if so, what is its significance?

We continue through the estate, Ana pointing out other subtle changes. A painting hung slightly crooked. Books on a shelf arranged in the wrong order. Cushions on a sofa positioned differently than usual. None of it means much on its own, but together it paints a picture of someone conducting a thorough search while trying to cover their tracks.

By the time evening falls, we've found nothing that explains where Ivan has gone. No ransom demands or threatening messages, no clues about who took him or why. Just evidence that someone wanted something from this house badly enough to risk breaking in.

I gather my captains in Ivan's study as darkness settles over the grounds, six men I trust completely, each one handpicked for their loyalty and intelligence. They stand in a semicircle, waiting for orders.

"Let's review what we know," I begin, my voice low and controlled. "Three days ago, someone attempted to assassinate Ivan. Yesterday, Ivan disappeared. His convoy left my estate after the wedding reception and never arrived home. No trace of the vehicles, no communication, nothing."

"And today," Gregory adds, "we discovered someone broke into his study and tried to access a hidden compartment in Ivan's desk."

I let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "These aren't random events. Someone is targeting the Rostova family specifically, and they're looking for something. I believe everything is connected."

One of the captains, a man who's been with me for fifteen years, speaks up. "What about the princess? Is she a target too?"