The study was submerged in darkness, illuminated only by the dim glow of the wall lamp. Radoslav sat leaning back in his large leather chair, his back to the entrance. His tattoo-covered right hand held a glass of whiskey that he occasionally swirled slowly, letting the amber liquid inside glint under the minimal light. His gaze was locked tightly on a large portrait painting hanging on the wall—a painting of a woman in a black dress whom he loved deeply, the figure of his wife whom he had believed all this time to be gone. The silence of the night shattered when the study door was knocked on hurriedly. Radoslav did not shift his gaze away from the portrait of his wife in the slightest. He merely raised his whiskey glass slightly into the air with a cold, intimidating gesture, signaling his subordinate to speak.
"You're here early,"
Radoslav said in a heavy, low voice that echoed against the walls of the room.
"Tell me, what urgent information made you dare to disturb my time tonight?"
His subordinate stepped in with a trembling body, bowing deeply before answering in a faltering voice.
"Boss... forgive me for disturbing you. But our informant at the port just reported something impossible. They saw a woman whose... whose face is very similar to the late Mrs. Kravchenko. That woman is still alive, Boss."
Hearing that last sentence, Radoslav's movements instantly froze. The atmosphere in the room turned to ice. Then, very quietly:
"Find out whether she wants to be found. If she does not, she is not brought to me."