Page 22 of The Arrangement

Tiffany steps into the hall, the picture of polished grace despite the early hour. “She was a pleasure, as always.”

“Good to hear. And thanks again.”

She smiles. “Happy to do it. Can I get you some coffee, Max?”

"No, thank you," I decline, keeping it brief. We're about to dive deeper into a morning catch-up when my father's voice cuts through any attempt at small talk.

“Mak-siiim!” His command booms from upstairs, unmistakable and urgent.

Tiffany's eye roll is quick, a shared moment of understanding between us. "As you can hear, he's already deep into work," she quips, a hint of dry humor lacing her words. “I’ll help Adelina get dressed.”

I nod, acknowledging the situation with a resigned sigh, and make my way upstairs. The familiarity of the estate guides me to his office, a room that's as vast and imposing as the man himself.

Aleksey is in the office, his presence noted with a mere nod—a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that bind and divide us. My focus shifts to my father, Igor, a figure of authority ensconced behind his desk. His question pierces the morning calm, direct and loaded with expectation.

"Why has Ned’s debt been forgiven? The bitch should pay it."

I wince at him referring to Tory in such a way. “No reason for such language, Father. So far, she’s been compliant.”

He has no idea.

All the same, the knowledge in my father's words throws me off balance. How? The decision was mine alone, fresh from last night, shared with no one but Tory herself. I scan their faces, seeking a hint, a clue. Nothing. The revelation hangs heavy, an unseen maneuver in a game I thought I controlled.

“Of course she’s been compliant – you forgave the debt! For the sum you just brushed away she ought to be painting your goddamn house!”

Frowning, I counter, "She doesn't have the money. She's barely making ends meet, living in the back of the shop." My defense, laying bare Tory's struggles, feels like a betrayal, yet necessary to explain my motivations.

Aleksey jumps in, his voice laced with a solution that's as cold as it is practical. "She can sell the shop. The space is worth more than her debt."

“Someone’s done his research,” I say, my tone sharp.

“Someone has to work around here,” Aleksey counters. “And if the rest of us enforcers went around forgiving debts, there’d be no operation to speak of.”

“And how would you afford the premium gas for your tiny-dick car then?” I reply quietly.

Aleksey narrows his eyes, looking practically ready to fight.

“Enough.” Father’s tone ends the scrap before it can begin. His nod seals my worst fears. "The debt is not erased," he declares, his verdict final, a command that rewrites my intentions, my promises to Tory.

Shit. I’d hope Father would forgive this move. No such luck.

"I've already cleared it with her. The woman's struggling. It's not just about the money," I press, trying to find footing in an argument that seems to be slipping away from me.

Father’s response is immediate, his voice cutting through any semblance of debate. "The decision has been made, Maksim. Our word is our bond. You can't just erase debts because you feel pity for someone. Imagine if word were to get out of what you did. Every business in the city would be asking for our mercy.”

Sounds like word already did get out, I think, still wondering how the hell my father even knows about this.

"But isn't there a line? Something that separates us from—" I try again, desperate to make him see reason.

"There are no lines when it comes to our business. You know this. The woman will find a way to pay.” My father’s tone brooks no further argument.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Aleksey's smug expression, a silent testament to his satisfaction with how the conversation is unfolding.

Before I can probe further, before I can dissect the layers of betrayal and secrecy that seem to be wrapping tighter around me, Adelina bursts through the door. Her presence serves as an immediate cease-fire.

"Papa!" she exclaims. “Can we go?”

The argument, the tension, it all fades into the background, pushed aside by the immediacy of her needs. This isn't the time or place to delve deeper into my suspicions.

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