Konstantin sat at his desk, meticulously poring over the ledger with Alesander by his side. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floorboards. Each entry in the ledger was meticulously documented, a testament to the meticulous record-keeping that was essential to their operations.
"Look here, Alesander," Konstantin said, his voice tinged with frustration as he pointed to a particular entry. "This transaction seems off. We need to double-check it."
Alesander, however, seemed less than enthused. He stifled a yawn and briefly sighed, his attention wavering.
"Are you even listening?" Konstantin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah... just boring," Alesander replied, his tone indifferent.
Konstantin frowned at his brother's lack of interest. "Wasn't Mila an accountant or something anyways? Can't she help with this?"
Alesander's expression darkened. "She's not allowed."
"But we just need someone to calculate it, and if she knows how, let her," Konstantin persisted.
"She's been with mother lately, and I already don't know what they're doing over there," Alesander grumbled.
Konstantin paused, considering Alesander's words. "Mila wouldn't even let Ekaterina come home. Why Mila?"
"They're best buddies now, I don't know why," Alesander replied with a shrug.
Konstantin couldn't help but feel a pang of unease at the thought of his sister-in-law and mother growing closer while he and Alesander struggled to manage the family business. "That's a good thing, mother doesn't even like Ekaterina," he mused aloud.
-----
"Mila, my heart," he cooed, approaching her cautiously. "What's wrong, baby girl?"
"Go away," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
He frowned, his concern deepening. "Mila, we've talked about this."
She huffed, turning away and avoiding his gaze.
"You know better, Mila," he continued, his tone firm yet gentle.
"I still don't have money for the clothes," she admitted quietly.
"You can go make that money," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "You're not getting money to buy those things, Mila. You can't be getting clothes."
"I don't have my own devices," she countered, feeling the weight of her circumstances.
"That never stopped you before. You always managed to find ways to make money," he replied, his tone accusing.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, confusion clouding her features.
"When you went into that alley, you knew what you were doing. Why don't I actually make you do what you were going to do for the $20 he was going to give you?" he said, his words cutting.
Mila frowned, feeling a mixture of anger and hurt. "You're insufferable. Your mother was right."
"My mother now? You talk about this stuff with her?" he exclaimed, his frustration boiling over.
"She said it's just how you men are," Mila retorted, her tone defiant.
"I can't even let you around her anymore," he hissed, his disappointment palpable. "You just make trouble everywhere."
