Dimitri Romanov stood at the entrance to the Foster family home, his wife Marina beside him holding a bottle of Georgian wine they had brought as a gift. The elegant North Dallas residence reflected the success John Foster had achieved through decades of building Foster Precision Components, but tonight it would serve as the setting for a conversation about betrayal within the ranks of John Foster Ministries.

Marissa Foster welcomed them warmly, her Scottish accent softened by years in Texas but still detectable in her greeting. "Dimitri, Marina, please come in. John's been looking forward to this evening."

The dining room table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, creating an atmosphere of gracious hospitality that belied the serious nature of their meeting. Danny Foster, still adjusting to his new role in his father's absence from the company, helped serve the meal his mother had prepared—perfectly roasted chicken with rosemary and thyme, accompanied by roasted vegetables, creamy mashed potatoes, and fresh dinner rolls that filled the house with their aroma.

Marina and Marissa discovered an immediate connection through their shared experience as wives of driven men. Marina spoke about the challenges of raising their three-year-old daughter Katya while Dimitri worked long hours establishing the ministry's technical infrastructure, while Marissa shared stories of managing a household with three sons and now helping to raise her grandchildren.

"The hardest part," Marina confided, "is explaining to Katya why Papa spends so much time at the office. She's too young to understand about divine missions and prophetic callings."

Marissa nodded knowingly. "I went through the same thing when the boys were young and John was building the company. Now I'm watching it all over again, but this time the stakes feel infinitely higher."

Danny listened quietly, observing how his father interacted with these new allies in his ministry. John treated Dimitri with the respect due a trusted professional, while showing genuine interest in Marina's perspectives as someone adjusting to the extraordinary circumstances surrounding her husband's work.

The conversation during dinner remained deliberately light, focusing on family matters, Dimitri's adaptation to life in Texas, and Marina's work as a translator for a local immigration law firm. Only when Marissa served her homemade cheesecake—rich, creamy, and perfectly balanced—did the mood begin to shift toward the evening's true purpose.

After dinner, John led Dimitri to his study while the women continued their conversation over coffee. Danny excused himself to handle some paperwork from Foster Precision Components, leaving the two men alone to discuss the security breach that had prompted the meeting.

John poured generous measures of fine cognac into crystal snifters, the amber liquid catching the light from his desk lamp. "Tell me about Alexander Petrov," he said without preamble.

Dimitri accepted the cognac gratefully, using the moment to organize his thoughts. "He's brilliant, probably the most technically skilled member of my team. Advanced degrees in computer science and cybersecurity from Moscow State University. Fluent in multiple programming languages, expert in network architecture and data encryption."

"But?" John prompted.

"But his behavior patterns don't match his stated commitment to the ministry. He works odd hours, accesses systems he doesn't need for his assigned tasks, and I've detected encrypted communications to external servers that he hasn't disclosed." Dimitri pulled out his laptop and showed John a series of network logs and data transfer records. "This is sophisticated espionage work, not casual curiosity."

John studied the evidence with the same methodical attention he had once applied to engineering problems. "Have you confronted him directly?"

"Not yet. I wanted to discuss the situation with you first. If he is working for outside interests, confronting him without proper preparation could compromise our entire operation."

John swirled his cognac thoughtfully. "I think we should visit him together at your office. Tonight."

The directness of the suggestion surprised Dimitri. "Tonight? It's already past nine o'clock."

"Alexander Petrov works late hours, doesn't he? This is the perfect time to catch him off guard, when he thinks he's operating without oversight." John's expression carried the same quiet authority that had commanded respect throughout his business career. "Besides, I have certain capabilities that might prove useful in determining his true loyalties."

Dimitri nodded, remembering the supernatural gifts John claimed to possess. If there was ever a time to test those abilities, this was it.

They finished their cognac and rejoined the women, who had moved to the living room where Marina was showing Marissa photographs of young Katya on her phone. The domestic tranquility of the scene contrasted sharply with the confrontation they were about to undertake.

"We need to make a quick stop at Dimitri's office," John explained to Marissa. "Business matter that can't wait until tomorrow."

Marissa's expression showed she understood this was connected to the ministry's security concerns. "Be careful," she said simply, kissing her husband goodbye with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to his unpredictable schedule.

Marina hugged Dimitri tightly. "Come home safe," she whispered in Russian.

As they drove toward the commercial district where Dimitri had established his operations center, both men understood they were about to test not just Alexander Petrov's loyalty, but the supernatural authority that John claimed to carry as God's anointed prophet.

* * *

The office building that housed Dimitri's IT operations was nearly deserted at ten o'clock on a Tuesday evening, with only a few scattered lights indicating other businesses working late. Dimitri badged them through the security doors, leading John down a corridor lined with generic office spaces until they reached the suite marked "Romanov Technical Consulting."

Inside, the space buzzed with the quiet hum of multiple servers and workstations arranged in precise rows. Dimitri had designed the layout for maximum efficiency, with each team member's workstation equipped with multiple monitors and high-performance computing equipment. The air conditioning worked overtime to keep the temperature comfortable despite the heat generated by dozens of servers and other computers.

Alexander Petrov sat at his desk in the far corner, surrounded by three large monitors displaying code, network diagrams, and what appeared to be encrypted communication windows. He was a lean man in his early thirties with sharp features and intelligent eyes that missed little. When he noticed Dimitri and John approaching, he quickly minimized several windows and turned to greet them with professional courtesy.

"Dimitri, I wasn't expecting you tonight. And Mr. Foster, it's an honor to meet you in person." Alexander stood and extended his hand, his English accented but fluent.

John shook the offered hand, studying Alexander's face with intense focus. "Alexander Petrov. Dimitri tells me you're one of his most valuable team members."

"I try to serve the ministry's technical needs to the best of my abilities," Alexander replied, his tone carefully neutral.

"That's interesting phrasing," John observed. "Tell me, Alexander, do you believe Jesus Christ is Lord?"

The question caught Alexander off guard, but he responded without hesitation. "Yes, of course. Jesus Christ is King of kings and Lord of lords, true God and true man, risen from the dead for our salvation."

John nodded approvingly. "Good. That's the foundation of everything we're doing here. But let me ask you something else, Alexander. Do you believe I am God's prophet, sent back from death to deliver His messages to the faithful?"

Alexander's composure faltered slightly. "I... I believe in God's power to work miracles. But I find it difficult to accept claims of modern prophecy without... substantial evidence."

Dimitri stepped forward, opening his laptop to display the network logs he had shown John earlier. "Then perhaps you can explain these unauthorized communications to external servers. Communications that appear to be encrypted reports about our operations."

The color drained from Alexander's face as he recognized his own data footprints. "Dimitri, I can explain—"

"I'm sure you can," John interrupted, his voice carrying an authority that seemed to fill the entire office space. "But first, let's establish some truth. You say you believe in God but doubt my calling as His prophet. That's your right, Alexander. But it doesn't give you the right to work against Christ's own mission."

Alexander's hands began to tremble. "I do believe in God. I swear to you, I believe in Christ. But the idea that you've returned from death, that you carry divine authority... it's difficult for a rational person to accept."

John moved closer, his presence becoming almost overwhelming in its intensity. "Alexander, among the gifts Christ gave me when He commissioned me for this work was the power to destroy those who oppose His will through prayer to the Holy Spirit."

The air in the office seemed to grow thick with tension. Alexander backed against his desk, his eyes wide with something approaching fear.

John bowed his head slightly and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Should I trust this man standing before me? Amen."

The response was immediate and terrifying. A cross of pure flame materialized in John's outstretched hand, burning with white-hot intensity but producing no heat that Dimitri could feel from where he stood. The supernatural fire cast dancing shadows on the walls while Alexander stared in complete shock.

"Dear God," Alexander gasped, dropping to his knees beside his chair. "Forgive me. Forgive me, Lord. I believe. I believe you are His prophet. I have sinned against God and against His servant."

The moment Alexander swore to serve God and His prophet, the flaming cross vanished from John's hand, leaving no trace that it had ever existed.

Tears streamed down Alexander's face as he continued. "I was hired by people I thought were government security agencies. They told me John Foster was a dangerous cultist, a threat to national security. They wanted me to monitor his activities and report on his plans. I thought I was serving my country."

"Who hired you, Alexander? Tell me everything," John said quietly.

"A man named Adam Goldwyn. He claimed to represent a joint task force between the FBI and Homeland Security, but the payments came through something called the Federal Reserve Special Operations Division. I'd never heard of such a thing, but the money was real and the credentials looked authentic."

Dimitri felt his blood run cold. The Federal Reserve was supposed to be focused on monetary policy, not domestic surveillance operations.

"What did you report to them?" John asked.

"Server locations, security protocols, staffing information, event planning details. Everything I could access." Alexander's voice broke with shame. "They wanted to know about foreign connections, funding sources, and potential security vulnerabilities."

"Alexander, you have a choice to make," John said. "You can continue serving these shadow agencies that operate without proper authority, or you can truly serve Christ by helping His ministry succeed."

Alexander wiped his eyes, still trembling from the supernatural demonstration he had witnessed. "I want to serve God, Mr. Foster. I want to serve you. Please, tell me how to make this right."

"First, you will provide complete information about your contacts, their communication methods, and everything they've requested from you. Second, all future communications with these agencies will be monitored and controlled by Anthony Foster and Dimitri. Third, you will feed them only information that we approve, effectively making you our agent within their operation."

Alexander nodded eagerly. "Yes, absolutely. Whatever you require."

John placed his hand on Alexander's shoulder. "This is your second chance, Alexander. God is merciful to those who truly repent. But there will not be a third chance."

"I understand completely, Mr. Foster. I swear by all that's holy, I will serve faithfully from this moment forward."

Dimitri watched this exchange with amazement. In the span of minutes, John had transformed a dangerous security breach into a potential intelligence advantage. The supernatural display had been undeniable proof of divine authority, but it was John's measured response that showed true wisdom.

As they prepared to leave the office, Alexander was already compiling files on his contacts and preparing to brief them on his handlers' activities. What had begun as a crisis had become an opportunity to understand exactly who was working against John Foster's ministry and why.

The Federal Reserve Special Operations Division. Dimitri made a mental note to research that organization thoroughly. If shadow agencies were monitoring John's activities, they needed to know everything about their adversaries' capabilities and intentions.

The war for souls had apparently attracted the attention of very earthly powers.