Rebuilding the Russian Mafia from square one allowed Aleksander to occupy himself. Create elaborate plans and take care of negotiations, and unofficially become the Pakhan, given how Nikolai was in no state to be taking care of matters. His mind numbed with medication and painkillers and his body deteriorating. The stroke he had from Salvatore's carnage had left him completely bedridden, and Aleksander could not bring himself to feel sympathy for the man.

Instead, the heir set out on making Nikolai's Bratva completely his.

He began from square one: the structure.

It was common knowledge that the Bratva didn't have a system as the Cosa Nostra did, so he took the help of his Italian upbringing and changed that. There was the Pakhan, him, and his second-in-command, or Brigadier who would be an intermediary for him and would be in charge of the captains who would be presiding over small groups of men known as the Bratok, who would then recruit freelancer of a sort.

Incorporating that structure came easy with the large scale recruitment he did. Making Pyotr his Brigadier, while the other six being his Captains. Lyov and Grigory were in charge of the two branches of the Support groups, while Dimitri and Maks presided over the Security Group, and Yuri and Fedya took care of a new group he had created: the specialized group.

Now, he just needed a Bookkeeper. But that endeavor would have to wait.

Once his system was in place, he scavenged neighboring areas and lands which would prove to be easy expansion and started off with that. His current power was enough to bring the smaller houses to his side, easily managing to charm his way into their family. Aleksander was quite aware of what the underworld thought of his disgraced father, and with every successive family he brought to his side, he proved to them that he was not Nikolai. He was not his father in terms of brains, in terms of negotiations, nor was he his father in terms of manners. Impressing the families with his extensive knowledge about their history and providing them with plausible routes to what they wanted the most at the cost of their alliance.

Having been raised as a Regnante, negotiations either happened his way or not at all.

That little fact spreading like wildfire through the underworld. Along with the rumor that his list of possible allies went through a very thorough vetting, and if Aleksander Nikolovich Romanov approached you, you were honored with his time.

With the rapid growth he made with making powerful friends in all the right places, he had no trouble getting deals with both corporate and illicit businesses; the owners throwing themselves at him. His speedy ascent to the top had many families seeking him out for possible mergers until they were disappointed to find out that he was promised to another and already wed.

At the turn of the year, he was one of the top Russian Bosses that one did not want to mess with. No one had gotten on his bad side yet, but given how quickly he was climbing the ladder of success, one didn't want to risk it. Especially when it was found out that he was raised a Regnante, one of his allies having tried to use that against them, but only found himself in trouble with the words:

"I was raised as a Regnante, Mr. Ivanov. Meaning, I was raised like Salvatore, so imagine exactly what ungodly deeds I am capable of,"

Once he had secured his men and alliances, he worked on changing the business. Knowing that the Romanov's worked primarily in the drug trade, he expanded on that. Beginning to develop a pharmaceutical empire, and using his friends to gain connections in politics and the government, while underneath it all, he'd run a black-market drug ring. And if all went well, and he got instated as the Pakhan upon Nikolai's death, he would utilize the opportunity for an optimal deal by holding Salvatore to the promise of an alliance. The Regnante's being the biggest firearm dealers and traffickers among an extensive list of things, joining the soon-to-be-largest drug syndicate would allow them to get away with anything.

And during the four years he had been in Russia, he did not expect the outcome to be so...glorious.

"Boss," Pyotr intercepted Aleksander's way as the Pakhan was heading towards a meeting with a potential ally. His Brigadier holding a file in hand. "There is someone I think you should see,"

"And who would that be?" Aleksander asked dismissively as he furiously typed away the screen.

"Thomas Colombo," The man informed. "A bookkeeper, sir,"

"A bookkeeper," He echoed as the marble hallway opened up to an expansive space decorated with Greek columns, exquisite paintings and furnished to the epitome of luxury. And in the middle of it all stood a small timid man in a well-fitted grey suit and round spectacles on the bridge of his hooked nose, his greying hair pushed to the side and a briefcase clutched to his midriff as his startling grey eyes took in the interior around him.

"Mr. Colombo?" Aleksander called out to him in a clear voice, the man jumping up at the sound before whirling in his direction. "Aleksander Romanov," He struck out his hand to the man, watching as he let go of his briefcase, dropping it to the floor before firmly taking the Pakhan's hand in his own, ignorant to the papers that were strewn across the rich marble flooring.

"You dropped these," Aleksander's guards handed the papers to him as the man squeaked out an embarrassed thank you, the Pakhan watching with intent eyes as he put the paper into the briefcase.

"Mr. Romanov," The man before him struggled with his pages. "It has come to my knowledge that you are in need of a bookkeeper as well as a Lawyer, and fortunately, I am both who has extensive experience with the Mafioso's, so I believe I would be of use to you, sir," Thomas exhaled as Aleksander looked at him from below his lashes, looking at a file that had been handed to him in the middle of his words before handing it back to the man behind him.

"Then, I believe you can tell me about your previous employers," Aleksander asked as he slipped his hands into his slack's pockets.

"To a certain degree," He nodded.

"Why? Are you bound by Omerta, Mr. Colombo?" The younger asked him in Italian.

"That is an occupational hazard when working with the Cosa Nostra," Thomas responded in fluent Italian, nodding to the man's words.

"I see," Aleksander smiled at him, surprised that this man still hadn't figured out what was going on. Taking out his gun from his holster, the Pakhan cocked it before pressing the barrel to the man's forehead, watching in amusement as the man's eyes widened and his legs trembled. The man dropped his briefcase once more and held up his hands in surrender. "Who sent you to me, Thomas?"

"I-I-I-I was, was referenced, sir,"

"By whom?" He asked once more and clicked off the safety, narrowing his eyes at the man. "Was it Salvatore? Or Lucio? Or is it some entirely different Don?"

"The...the..." The man trembled, looking on the verge of passing out as his face grew paler by the second.

"The...?"

"The Giordano's," Thomas squeaked, Aleksander staring back at him in silence as the man swallowed thickly, speaking through chattering teeth. "I-I was Giordano's bookkeeper and lawyer until recently when my employer told me to go to you...she, she, she was very adamant, sir,"

"Sofia," Aleksander exhaled her name, having been ages since he last said it out loud, the yearning for his wife hitting him like a brand new tidal wave and burning his heart in a fresh torrent of flames. Removing the gun, he looked at the man before him. "Sofia sent you?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, Miss Sofia sent me," He nodded.

"Mrs.," Aleksander corrected for him.

"Pardon?"

"It's Mrs. Sofia,"

"Mrs.?" Thomas looked bewildered at the correction.

"Yes, of course. She's my wife after all," Aleksander couldn't help but smirk. "Or is it Dr. Sofia now? She had been halfway done with her Ph.D. when I left Italy,"

The open-mouthed reaction of the men around him had his chest swell with pride at the fact that his wife held a Ph.D. doctorate in Applied Mathematics and the fact that Sofia Giordano of all people, had his name.

"Come, we'll talk on the way," Aleksander gestured for Thomas to follow after noting the time.

In the drive to the meeting point, Thomas had begun to go through his credentials when the heir stopped him and informed him he had no need for his resume given that he trusted his wife's choice. Instead, they went over legal matters and what Aleksander wanted him to have a look at and they talked about his bookkeeping system. Just as they pulled outside the rendezvous point, the Italian lawyer stopped him from getting out.

"I would be officially joining you in the morning, sir-"

"-Perfect-"

"-But before I leave, I have something for you,"

"For me?" Aleksander confirmed as the man nodded and reached into his briefcase's compartment, holding out an unmarked envelope to him.

"I had initially thought that it was a letter of recommendation of sorts, but now...after finding out she's your wife...I'm not so sure," Thomas trailed as Aleksander blankly stared at the parchment held out to him.

"Sofia sent this?" He confirmed as he took it in his hand, realizing it felt heavier than paper and felt around the exterior, making out the shape of a USB as his eyebrows furrowed. The man nodded once more before exiting the car with him, both of them parting ways.

He couldn't focus on the meeting, eager to know what was on the USB and if it was, in fact, a USB. Aleksander's mind kept wandering to the possible contents and he continued to lose his train of thought, having to repeatedly apologize to his client and negotiate another meeting time given how he wasn't present of mind. The man had been taken aback by the request but assented nonetheless.

The moment Aleksander had pulled up at his brand new headquarters, he told his men not to disturb him and bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time until he was in his bedroom. Locking the door, he grabbed his new laptop and tapped his foot as he waited for it to start. Letting out a little sound of triumph when it opened to show his desktop. Ripping the top of the envelope, he held the flash drive between his fingers before plugging it in, a folder containing videos displayed before him as he clicked on the very first one.

"Hey there, partner," His wife's voice rung through the speaker as Aleksander's breath stuttered in his throat, his heart aching in his chest to see the video of his wife before him. Her golden hair tossed into a messy bun at the top of her head as she sat in one of his old t-shirts and a wide smile on her face causing her blue eyes to crinkle at the edges. "You and I have no idea how long you'll be gone to Russia for, and we made a deal with Nikolai, so I decided that you know what? I'll make a video diary for you for when you come back." She blushed on the screen and Aleksander was forced to swallow the lump in his throat.

The first video detailed her plan for the video diary where she would sit down at the end of the day and just record a message for him.

Aleksander sat on his bed, watching video after video of her talking, her laughing, and smiling at the camera, there was even a video in which she fell asleep between her recording, and he couldn't help but lay down with the laptop before him, closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to imagine her there with him. He watched her preppy voice turn forlorn and he watched her get a little weaker, before picking up her health. He saw her new haircut, a chin-length bob that framed her face, but worst of all, he watched her cry with how much she missed him, how much she just wanted him back home, in their bed, so that she could hold him and never let him go. He saw the regret, and it had tears streaming down his cheek. The heir struggled to wipe them away, gasping for breath as his chest felt tight and it felt like he would die to see the grief before him.

He couldn't bring himself to watch any more videos, trying to regain his composure before he washed his face and put his laptop on the coffee table, tapping away at the keyboard before taking a deep breath.

"Hey there, beautiful," He smiled softly at the screen, imagining that Sofia was right there, in front of him. "I have so much to tell you, baby, so much to say, and so much I need to hear you say since I haven't finished watching the videos yet," He stopped, realizing that he was rambling before he exhaled and rubbed a hand over his forehead, his gaze shifting away from the camera in thought.

"It's been four years since I last saw you," Aleksander muttered, returning his gaze. "And it has sucked the life out of me. There were days where I just..." He choked on his words, hanging his head as he tried to swallow the lump.

"Where I just wanted to come home," He exhaled breathlessly. "Come home to you, baby,"

The Pakhan-in-acting took a moment to regain himself, running a hand through his hair before straightening.

"But," He scrubbed at his face before smiling at the camera "If my calculations are correct – forgive me, I'm not a Ph.D. in Applied mathematics,"

"But I think...I'll be back home in four months,"