Page 6 of Porcelain Lies

“Bobik needs you healthy.”

“Don’t.” Her fingers clench around the empty serving tray. “Using our son to manipulate me won’t work.”

I bite back a response. She’s right – I’m pushing too hard. But watching her waste away, knowing what it could mean for Bobik…

“At least let me arrange for some tests.”

“I can manage my own health.” She straightens, summoning what strength remains. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to attend to.”

I let her go, already planning calls to my medical contacts. Whatever she’s hiding, I’ll find out. For Bobik’s sake, I have to know.

My focus shifts once more as my son tugs at my sleeve, chattering happily as he shows me another diagram that makes no sense to me. What makes sense, though, is the depth of my love for him. My cold heart warms a little when I’m around him. And that’s something that rarely happens anywhere else.

I watch as Bobik’s enthusiasm gradually wanes. His eyelids droop despite his determination to share one more fact about quantum mechanics.

“Papa, did you know that… that…” He yawns, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Time for rest,malysh.” I take the book from his lap, marking his place before setting it aside. His new chair whirs softly as I help him transfer to his bed.

“But I’m not…” Another yawn interrupts his protest as I pull the covers up to his chest. His dark eyes, mirror images of my own, fight to stay open.

“Sleep.” I run my hand over his hair, remembering how my mother used to do the same for me. “Your books will wait.”

Within moments, his breathing evens out. I adjust his blanket one final time, then step back. The security monitors need checking — a ritual I never skip, even though I know that the system I installed in Olga’s place is state of the art.

I roll up my sleeves as I prepare to inspect every camera, every sensor, every guard position.

Moving through the space, I verify each security measure. Bulletproof windows, panic room, emergency medical equipment tucked into false cabinet panels. Cameras monitor every angle of the place, all feeding through to a 24-hour control room.

I pause at Bobik’s bedroom door, remembering the night I learned this lesson. Three years ago, the Chechen brigade thought they could leverage my “weakness.” They’d caught wind of rumors about a child. My child.

Their mistake was sending only four men.

I still hear their screams as I made examples of them. But the message was clear – my enemies would use Bobik to destroy me if they could.

Because they know. A bullet I can handle. A knife, a beating, torture – all occupational hazards. But Bobik? My son is my heart outside my body. Vulnerable. Defenseless in his chair. One successful attack and…

My jaw clenches. I force the thought away, focusing on the security panel’s soft glow. The fortifications aren’t just walls and weapons – they’re my love made concrete and steel. Every lock, every hidden camera, every escape route exists because I cannot lose him.

I lean down, pressing my lips to Bobik’s temple. His skin is warm, peaceful in sleep. My hand lingers on his hair, memorizing its softness. These moments – they gut me every time.

“Spi sladko, sweet dreams,malysh.” My whisper barely disturbs the air. The door clicks shut behind me as I tear myself away.

Memories flash – the hospital room, the concerned group of medical specialists. Their faces as they stammered excuses.

“These things happen… unfortunate situation…”

Pizda!

I don’t care what they said. This wasn’t an “unfortunate situation.” It was negligence. Criminal fucking negligence.

I should have ripped out their throats then.

My fists clench. The familiar rage burns hot, demanding blood. But violence won’t fix Bobik’s spine. Won’t let him run or jump or play like other children.

The irony cuts deep. I command an empire built on fear. Men tremble at my name. Yet here, watching my son sleep through bulletproof glass, I’m stripped bare. Exposed. No amount of money or power can shield him from his own body’s betrayal.

I force myself to move. One foot in front of the other. Away from his door. Away from the only pure thing in my life.

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