Chapter 165: You have my Katalia

She began making calls. One person didn’t answer. Another refused to get involved. The third gave her a name. That name led to another number. Then another. It took nearly an hour. Finally, Elena placed her phone on the table.

"I have it." Don Capri looked up. "What?"

"His number." For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he took the phone. Elena watched him. "Don’t say too much."

"I know."

"Don’t mention Aliya."

"I said I know." He opened a new message. His thumb hovered over the screen. They needed to get Don Konstantin’s attention.

Nothing more. Not yet. Don Capri began typing.

"I was cleaning up today and came across something that caught my attention. It appears to have your late wife’s initials and the Ivanov family name. You were the first person who came to mind."

He stopped.

Elena leaned over his shoulder. "Good." Don Capri looked at the necklace lying on the table. Then back at the message. This was either the beginning of their salvation. Or the biggest mistake they had ever made. His thumb pressed Send. The message disappeared.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. They simply stared at the phone.

Waiting. The message had barely been sent. Don Capri was still staring at his phone when it began to ring. He froze. Elena looked up sharply. "Is that him?"

Don Capri glanced at the screen. The name displayed there made his stomach tighten. Don Konstantin.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Don Capri answered. "Don Konstantin." There was no greeting. No polite introduction. "How did you get that necklace?" The voice on the other end was sharp.

Anxious. Nothing like the calm, calculating man people whispered about. Don Capri exchanged a quick glance with Elena. There it was.

The weakness they had been hoping for. His daughter. Twenty years had passed, and the name still had the power to shake him.

"Yes," Don Capri said carefully. "I understand it belongs to your family."

"My late wife." Konstantin’s breathing changed. "And my daughter." Don Capri tightened his grip around the phone. He took a slow breath. Then began to tell the story. "Well, about twenty years ago, I found a little girl." Elena watched him closely.

"She had no memory of where she came from. No family. Nothing." Don Capri paused.

"So I took her in." His voice softened. "I raised her as my own daughter." Silence. Konstantin didn’t interrupt. Don Capri continued.

"I was cleaning through some old things when I came across the necklace. The girl had it with her when I found her." A lie. But it came easily.

"I took it from her and kept it hidden. At the time, I thought it might be the only thing that could lead us back to her real family."

He glanced toward Elena. "I never paid much attention to the initials before." Another pause. "But after looking at it closely, I thought there might be a connection."

The silence on the other end became unbearable. Then Konstantin spoke. His voice was no longer controlled. "My God." Don Capri’s eyes flickered toward Elena. "You mean..." Konstantin’s breath caught.

"You have my daughter." Don Capri said nothing.

"You have my Katalia." The name hung in the air. Elena’s eyes widened slightly. Katalia. So that was the missing girl’s name. Konstantin let out a breath that sounded almost broken.

For twenty years, he had searched. Twenty years of dead ends. Bodies that weren’t hers. False leads. People claiming to know something only to disappear when his men came looking.

And now. His daughter. Alive. Or so he believed. Don Capri lowered his eyes. "There is something else." Konstantin immediately became alert.

"What?" Don Capri hesitated just long enough. Then. "Your daughter..." He swallowed.

"The girl I raised as my own. Her name is Aliya." Elena sat perfectly still.

"She has been captured by Viktor, now working at his manufacturing." The silence that followed was different. Cold.

"What?" Don Capri heard the change in his voice. "I’ve tried everything to get her back." His voice filled with carefully measured desperation.

"Every attempt has failed."

"Viktor has my daughter?" Don Capri closed his eyes.

"Yes." The next words came through the phone like a blade. "That man has a death wish." Elena smiled faintly.

Don Capri said nothing. "Is this Viktor Kessler?" Konstantin demanded.

"The son of Don Kessler?"

"Yes."

"He took over his father’s empire after he died." A long silence followed. Then Konstantin spoke again. "May my good friend continue to rest in peace."

Don Capri’s fingers tightened around the phone. The tone of the conversation had changed. The grieving father was gone. The Don had returned. "Listen to me carefully," Konstantin said.

"Yes."

"I’m sending my men." Don Capri looked at Elena. Her eyes lit up. "Make sure nothing happens to my daughter."

"I understand."

"If Viktor harms her..." Konstantin didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. Don Capri swallowed. "I’ll do everything I can."

"No." Konstantin’s voice hardened. "You’ll do everything I tell you." Don Capri immediately lowered his head, even though the other man couldn’t see him. "Yes, Don Konstantin."

The call ended. For a second, the apartment was silent. Don Capri slowly lowered the phone. Then Elena jumped to her feet. "It worked." A smile spread across Don Capri’s face.

"It worked." He stood. For the first time in days, the crushing helplessness in his chest began to lift. Don Konstantin was sending reinforcements. Real reinforcements. Men with money. Power. Connections that stretched far beyond anything Viktor controlled.

Elena grabbed his arm. "Aliya."

"And Marcel." Don Capri nodded. They looked at each other. Both of them were thinking the same thing. They had found someone powerful enough to challenge Viktor. Someone who believed Aliya was his daughter.

And a father who had spent twenty years searching for his child was not going to sit quietly while another man held her prisoner. Elena smiled. "Finally."

Don Capri’s smile widened. They could save Aliya. They could save Marcel. And perhaps, for the first time since everything had fallen apart. They had a way to fight back.

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