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His mouth snapped shut, and we all grinned before getting back to work.

I started a deeper separation of the audio and video layers. Maksim left to double the guards around Nora and order exterior surveillance on the casino. Kirill followed after promising Anika he’d refrain from arson until we had more information.

She watched the analysis crawl across the screen, then noticed the folder beneath my laptop. Her name wasn’t on it. Nora’s was. I should’ve moved it sooner but I’d been distracted.

Anika pulled it free and opened it to the crash-test reports, vehicle measurements, and my comparison of six child-restraint systems. Color-coded rankings covered the last page.

“You made a car-seat spreadsheet.” Her mouth fell open. “She already has a car seat.”

“She has one in Miss Helen’s vehicle. We use four armored SUVs in the primary rotation. Moving one seat between them increases the possibility of installation error.”

Anika flipped another page. “You rejected this one because the chest clip is aesthetically deceptive.”

“It appears secure before engaging completely. Poor design should not be rewarded.” I shook my head. “She’s not going to be at risk because of a damned design flaw.”

Her laughter startled me. She pressed the folder against her chest, eyes watering by the time she managed to speak. “You’re planning car seats with the same intensity you use to dismantle criminal networks.”

“Criminals are often more rational than manufacturers.” I pulled the folder from her grasp and set it aside. “She will always be safe with us, Anika. And so are you. We didn’t give you that from the beginning, and we should have.”

She blinked several times, processing. Her breathing ramped up, then steadied as she came to a conclusion. “Why did you keep trying to prove I was guilty?”

My hands stopped over the keyboard. Last night hadn’t erased the shadows beneath her eyes. Neither had pleasure, pancakes, or three men declaring themselves fathers to her child.

“The evidence stopped fitting.” I turned away from the screens. There was no version of the truth that made me less contemptible, so I gave her the full truth. “But I wasn’t ready to admit it, because if you were innocent, then I’d restrained and humiliated a woman who had done nothing wrong. I was the man who watched Kirill cut your clothes away. I searched your accounts while you begged us to listen, and I treated your fear for Nora as another performance. Finding guilt in you would’ve allowed me to believe I remained the man I thought I was.”

Her mouth pulled tight. “That’s fucked up, Roman.”

I held her gaze even though every instinct urged me to make the outcome less absolute. “I’ll protect you and Nora whether you ever allow me near you again.”

“I don’t need you to protect me from the truth.” She pointed in the general direction of the computer. “Thank you for not hiding this from me.”

“You deserve to have every fact I have, including the ones that make you hate me.” The promise would cost more than an apology. Good. It should. As long as she gave me the time and opportunities to keep proving to her that I was genuine, I’d take all of it. “If an operational detail would endanger someone, I’ll tell you that it exists and why it can’t be shared yet. I won’t pretend it doesn’t exist.”

The analysis finished before she could answer. I reopened the recording with the sound separated into four channels and the image sharpened enough to expose every small movement.

Maksim and Kirill returned while I played it. Alina delivered the same calm threat over the isolated sounds of the casino, but Anika leaned closer when her sister’s right hand came into focus.

“Stop.” She reached across me and dragged the recording back three seconds. “Play that again at half speed.”

Alina’s thumb rubbed the side of her ring finger. Her hand relaxed, and she continued speaking.

Anika went still. “Oh, you sneaky bitch.”

Kirill bent closer to the screen. “I say that with admiration at least once a day. What did she do?”

“When we were kids, Mom caught us passing notes and separated us whenever one of us was in trouble. We made up a way to hide the truth inside whatever we were forced to say.” Anika pointed to Alina’s hand. “Touching the ring finger means the next word is part of the message. She does it when the person listening can hear the lie but doesn’t know where to find the truth.”

Anika rubbed her thumb against the silver band on her own ring finger. “It started because of this habit. Alina copied it whenever she wanted my attention without making Mom suspicious—or when she was pretending to be me. One touch means keep the next whole word. A twisting motion means keep only the final three letters.”

“She copied your nervous habit into the recording.” Maksim studied Alina’s hand with renewed interest.

“Because she knew I’d watch her hands.” Anika swallowed. “She knew I’d still know her well enough to see it.”

I returned to the beginning and followed Alina’s hands instead of her face. At six points in the recording, her thumb pressed against her ring finger. At the seventh, she mimed twisting a ring.

Anika opened a blank document, and I paused after each signal while she typed the selected words: DO. NOT. COME. THEY. HAVE. MY. PERSON.

Maksim frowned. “Person?”