Czar Gregovivk Part 3

"The boy was Morgana's submissive before he became Sebastian's..." I take a deep breath, regrouping all the information in my mind. "But the reports indicate he was initiated just over three months ago in Sodoma..."
"In Sodoma, yes. But as Morgana's obedient dog, he has been around for almost six years."
"Six years?" I ask, incredulous. "So does this mean she’s been practicing domination outside the council?" I narrow my gaze, considering the only sensible explanation for Morgana having a submissive without the other councilors knowing.
"Yes, I've been keeping an eye on her as well. The friend of my enemy is also my enemy." Ramsés becomes serious, staring at me. "I've kept my attention on her, and you know Morgana; she doesn’t usually leave loose ends. It took me nearly three years to find some of her slip-ups, and I have some evidence that leads me to believe that the little daughter loyal to the Sodoma council is preparing to rebel..."
"Is she going to abdicate her seat, abandon Sodoma, which she always claims is everything to her, or is she aiming for something bigger... to overthrow the other councilors and command Sodoma alone?"
"No, my Russian friend, Morgana has bigger ambitions." He raises a finger and snaps. It doesn't take long for one of his security guards to appear beside him with a folder, handing it to him. "I deemed it wiser to remain silent about my private investigations concerning Councilor Morgana because I'm after solid proof to throw everything in front of the council. But I believe now is a good time to let the others know about this before she can go further."
He places the folder on the table and slowly pushes it in my direction. "You should read it carefully; you will find some very interesting things in that folder." Ramsés stands and gives me a nod. "Until the day of the judgment, my friend, use it wisely. And if you give me the liberty to offer you a piece of advice regarding what’s been plaguing your mind, go back to the beginning. That's what I do when I reach a dead end; I retrace my steps and always find the answer back at the start."
I watch him walk away and head out of the hotel restaurant where he is staying, surrounded by a group of security guards. Ramsés is a dangerous man, with many enemies who would love to erase the dirty secrets he knows about each of them. I lower my eyes to the cream-colored folder. I stare at it and see the red stamp of an eagle with its wings spread. The information about Macro being Morgana's apprentice pounds in my mind.
"Sebastian lied to me!" I growl under my breath, feeling even more certain that my suspicions are correct. Someone brought Mabel to Moscow on purpose, and now I'm almost sure her first night in Sodoma wasn't a coincidence.
"There are no coincidences in Sodoma," I murmur, looking at the computer screen, where the completed research shows that Freire hasn’t been to Moscow in over seven years. "What are you missing, Czar?!"
I leave my room, holding my shirt, and return to Mabel. As soon as I walk back into the room, I find her lying on her side at the edge of the bed, her eyes closed. Her chest rises and falls slowly, her legs curled up.
"Are you trying to tell me..." I speak softly, and I raise my eyes to the door, which opens.
"That I’m almost certain whoever created Mabel knew exactly how Melissa was raised," my aunt slowly utters, making me look at her, recognizing the real reason for the concern reflected in her anguished expression.
I take a deep breath and look at her, dropping the shirt to the corner near the foot of the bed. I lift her in my arms and hear her soft sigh as she sleeps, removing the damp towel from her skin, leaving her nude and properly arranging her body in the middle of the bed. I cover her and let my eyes wander over her skin, feeling my arousal respond to the sight of her body. I breathe heavily, unable to understand why she affects me so much. I turn my face and see her bag on the armchair next to the bed. I stretch out my hand and take it in my fingers, searching for the prescription that Aunt Yelena wrote for her.
I hold an old agenda in my fingers and see the rubber band wrapped around it. The folded page, with its tip sticking out, prompts me to pull it out, revealing that it is Mabel’s medication prescription. Before I can put the agenda away again, a small piece of paper falls to the floor near my foot. I take a step back and bend down, picking it up with my fingers and turning it slowly. My eyes focus on the image of a girl with a shy smile, wearing a blue uniform, a pleated skirt down to her ankles, and a white shirt with a blazer on top, with a braid falling over her shoulder. Next to her, the skinny boy with red hair smiles, wearing a male uniform. I notice the emblem of some kind of golden bird, its wings spread, surrounded by golden laurel leaves on his lapel, with the same emblem on Mabel’s blazer lapel. I take my phone out of my pocket and type in the name of the orphanage where Mabel lived until being adopted by Alekessandra.
"The Order of the Linas."
I find old articles from the New York newspaper, detailing the importance of the orphanage in the lives of the children who were left there. Founded thirty-five years ago by a select group of wives of bankers and judges, the elite of powerful women, just like their husbands. Currently, it survives on donations from the families of its founding patrons and another group of socialites who hold charity dinners to raise money. I sit in silence, reading all the information and scrolling through the photos available online, looking at each one. But only one captures my attention—the photo of the orphanage’s emblem, at the front gates of iron. The crest of a golden eagle with its wings spread is embedded in the iron.
"She taught you how to sit like this too."
"As far as I remember, no, maybe it was in the orphanage." Her head remains low, appearing lost in her memories. "We used to sit like this on the carpet in the playroom and stay silent, waiting for the toys to arrive."
"The orphanage!" I murmur as I leave the room, taking her bag and the photo with me.