Page 72 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“We can’t let him get away with this,” Lev growls, cracking his knuckles. He has always been the quickest to anger, but in this case, I can’t fault him.

“We won’t,” I say grimly. “But we need to be smart. A direct attack won’t teach him the lesson he needs to learn. Besides, Genevieve…” I trail off, needing to say no more. No matter how much I hate the man, I don’t wish to hurt my wife. Injuring or killing Gerald would hurt her gentle soul, even if she doesn’t wish him to be a part of her life.

“Then what do you propose?” Boris asks. While Lev is ruled by passion, Boris remains rational—the perfect counterweight to my calculating mind. Together, the three of us are unstoppable.

I smile slowly. “We destroy him from the inside out. His business, his reputation—everything he holds dear. By the time we’re finished, he’ll have nothing left but the clothes on his back and the knowledge of what he lost.”

“Poetic justice,” Lev says with a fierce grin. “I like the way you think, Brother.”

“Gather what information you can on his dealings, legal or otherwise,” I order. “Find his weaknesses and exploit them. Call in old debts and favors, spread dissent. Leave no stone unturned.” My smile sharpens. “We’ll drive him out of the city. The Zolotovs always win.”

“The Zolotovs always win!” my brothers echo.

Our path is set. Alexai’s confession had sealed Gerald’s fate, and now there is no turning back. He would learn that the family he has betrayed does not forgive and does not forget.

Vengeance would be ours.

But before we act, there is one more thing that needs to be done. I have a fresh chance to heal my relationship with Genevieve, and a new start shouldn’t begin with secrets.

I tell my brothers my plan and ask where Genevieve is.

“Anoushka dropped her to your penthouse,” Boris tells me.

“Alright. Hey Lev,” I ask before getting into my car. “Mind if I borrow Alexai’s recording?”

***

I find Genevieve in the living room, pacing the floor. Her hands are clenched, knuckles whitening with strain, and her expression looks troubled.

The minute she sees me, her face breaks into a beaming smile. She comes running to me, and I hold out my arms, enveloping her in them. To my surprise, she begins to cry.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask, afraid Gerald did something to her.

“I just,” she sniffles. “Oh, I was so scared watching you fight, Damien. When you showed us the needles, it was like my entire life flashed in front of my eyes. What would have happened if I hadn’t found out about Father and warned you…?”

She trails off, shaking her head, and I stroke her soft cheek. I don’t want her to be scared anymore. I want to protect her from all harm and make our life together beautiful and free of fear.

“Baby, I promised you that I’d stay alive,” I say softly, my voice steady and reassuring. “And I always keep my promises.”

She sniffles again, but a small smile forms on her lips. “I know, Damien, I know. I just... I trust you. Of course I do. But seeing those needles brought everything into perspective, you know? I don’t want us to fight anymore. I want to cherish every moment with you.”

“Me too, angel. Me too,” I murmur, then lead her to the couch.

“So, was my father behind it?” she asks. “I just…” she wrings her hands nervously. “I need to know for sure.”

My heart bleeds for her. Despite knowing the truth somewhere deep in her heart, she still wants to believe her father couldn’t stoop low enough to murder her husband.

“Sweetheart, you should be prepared for what I have to say,” I begin, trying to ease her into accepting the truth.

“We confronted Alexai after the fight,” I say, taking her hands in mine. They tremble slightly in my grip. “He admitted that your father was behind the trick with the needles. Alexai had been paid off to ensure I didn’t win the match.”

She sucks in air and shakes her head, tears falling down her cheeks. “No,” she cries out. “No.”

I say nothing but instead, pull out the recording and play it for her.

“I don’t understand,” she whispers when she’s done listening. “Why would my father do this?”

“I don’t know. Revenge, perhaps?” I squeeze her hands gently. “I’m sorry, milaya. I know he’s your father, but I can’t let this betrayal go unpunished.”

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