The Mafia King of Philadelphia: From witness to his doted wife

The study was quiet and dim when they entered, lit only by a single lamp on the heavy wooden desk near the window, rows of books lining the walls in careful, orderly rows.

Sienna crossed the room and settled into one of the leather chairs facing the desk, reaching into the folds of her dress to retrieve the folded document she had carried with her all evening, the one Aliya had handed her back in that powder room.

She hesitated only a moment before setting it down on the desk in front of him, sliding it across the polished wood until it stopped directly beneath his hand.

”Before we talk about the man from tonight,” she said quietly, watching his face carefully, ”there’s something else you need to see first.”

”Aliya gave me this,” Sienna said, nodding toward the folder now resting beneath Viktor’s hand. ”She said I should leave you, or she’ll make sure everyone knows you’re not a true Kessler.” She took a slow breath, steadying herself before continuing.

”Honestly, I’m done. Let’s get a divorce and put an end to all of this. I could tell that conversation with Don Capri wasn’t just business tonight. It was an alliance. He wants you to marry his daughter.”

She said it plainly, without flinching, without dressing the words up in anything softer than the truth.

Viktor’s expression didn’t change much, though something flickered briefly behind his eyes, something that looked almost like admiration.

”I like how you think,” he said quietly. ”You’re right. He wants me to marry Aliya. He doesn’t even seem to mind if I keep you around afterward. As a mistress, apparently.”

He reached for the folder, still faintly warm from where Sienna had kept it tucked against her side all evening, and flipped it open, scanning the pages inside with a calm, unhurried focus that surprised her.

She had expected anger, or at least some flicker of alarm. Instead, he simply closed the folder again after a moment, setting it down firmly on the desk.

”This is fake,” he said.

Sienna blinked. ”What?”

”I had a DNA test done with my father years ago,” Viktor said. ”It was a match. I am a true Kessler.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression settling into something more distant, more thoughtful, as though he were reaching back through old, carefully buried memories.

”The woman in those documents isn’t my real mother. She was my father’s first wife. She was carrying his best friend’s child when that friend died, and out of loyalty, my father took her in and raised the child as his own alongside her. My actual mother died giving birth to me. And around that same time, this other woman, the one Aliya is trying to pass off as my birth mother, was pregnant herself, with a daughter of her own.”

He paused, watching Sienna’s face carefully.

”Aria’s grandmother,” he said finally. ”That woman was Aria’s grandmother. This was a locked, buried secret, Sienna. I genuinely don’t know how they managed to dig it up.” He shook his head slowly, something hard and resolute settling into his jaw.

”With that said, you and I are never getting a divorce.”

Sienna stared at him for a long moment, absorbing everything he had just told her, the strange, tangled web of loyalty and loss that apparently ran far deeper into his family than she had ever realized. But the last part of what he said pulled her attention back sharply.

”It’s not like you love me,” she said carefully. ”Why won’t you let me go?”

”Because you’re mine,” Viktor said simply, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world, as though the question itself barely deserved consideration. ”So I’ll ask you again. What do you need?”

Sienna crossed her arms, holding her ground. ”Fine. You tell me first. How are you going to handle this situation? What do you need to win against the Capris? Even if that file is fake, it doesn’t matter. If the story gets out, it’ll still cause damage. People believe what they want to believe.”

”Leave that to me,” Viktor said, his voice quiet but absolute, the kind of tone that made it clear the matter was already being handled somewhere behind the scenes, whether she understood the details or not.

Sienna studied him for a moment, something sharp and knowing settling into her expression.

”I saw you swallow your pride tonight,” she said slowly. ”At that photo. With Don Capri and Aliya.” She tilted her head slightly, watching him closely.

”I think they might have you in a tighter spot than you’re letting on.” She paused. ”Do you still think I’m just a trophy wife, Viktor?”

Viktor’s jaw tightened slightly at the question, though he didn’t answer it directly, choosing instead to address the more pressing matter first.

”Fine,” he said finally, exhaling slowly. ”Capri found a new way of making legitimate money. And with that money, he’s bought loyalty from half the police force in this city. He has more badges in his pocket than I’d like to admit.”

”Not like you don’t have police in your pocket too,” Sienna said, arching an eyebrow. ”But go on.”

Viktor’s mouth twitched, the faintest trace of amusement breaking through his usual composure. ”Fair enough,” he said.

”But that money is also how he’s been buying loyalty inside the clan itself. Old families that used to answer only to me have started taking his calls instead. If we can cut off his funds, choke the source completely, I can finish him off before he ever gets the chance to consolidate that alliance with Aliya.”

Sienna nodded slowly, turning the information over in her mind. ”Okay,” she said finally. ”Great. Consider it done.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, studying her closely. ”Consider what done, exactly?”

”I’ll cut off his funds,” Sienna said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

”And how,” Viktor asked, leaning forward slightly, ”do you intend to do that?”