Page 68 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right, but I doubted that there would be any justification for his actions.

“Joshua was my friend,” he agreed. “And I killed him, true. But that’s because he betrayed me and killed my father. Killing him was hard, but I had to get my pound of flesh. He killed my old man, Sienna. Why would my friend do that?”

I was confused at this point. Andy hadn’t told me this part of the story.

“Okay, say I believe you. That doesn't justify killing an infant,” I said.

Vlad glanced at my father and took a step away.

“He didn’t kill the baby, Sienna,” Dad said. “She’s alive and well.” His voice cracked and his eyes became teary all of a sudden.

That was a relief, but why was he so emotional about it?

Dad continued, “In fact, that baby is right here with us as we speak. She’s looking at me, wondering what it is that I’m trying to say to her. Her mind is racing at the possibility that the man she’s known as her father for the past twenty-one years might not actually be her biological father.”

All at once, I froze, my entire body stuck in place.

“What are you saying, Dad?” I managed to choke out, my heart dropping as I got the message.

Still, I needed to hear him say it.

He wiped his tears and sighed heavily. “I’m saying that you’re that infant, Sienna.”

My legs could no longer carry me, so I sat back in the chair that had held me bound minutes ago. With a palm on my chest, I put my head down, struggling to breathe. My shoulders heaved with quiet sobs, and my throat was so tight that I could scarcely breathe.

“If I’m that baby, then that means Joshua was my father, and you’re….” I glanced up at him, his form blurring through the tears streaming down my cheeks.

He, too, had tears in his eyes.

Fuck!

With nothing else to do, I wept.

Chapter 22 – Vlad

I may have been a heartless son of a bitch, but even then, I wouldn’t react without first being provoked. Cruelty was a part of the job—ruthlessness, as well—but I always knew where to draw the line, especially when it came to family and those I called friends. However, drawing that line was the reason I’d gotten sloppy, the reason I’d denied all the facts in front of me, and that had gotten my father killed.

If I had listened to my gut and acted when I should have, maybe he’d still be alive today. What hurt me more wasn’t who pulled the trigger; it was who had figuratively pointed the gun that claimed my old man’s life.

I’d never had a mother’s love, but I’d had my father’s care and training; he was extreme with me growing up, but that was the traditional way of the Bratva. I’d hated it at first, but as I grew older, I had a better understanding of why he’d been so hard on me. He taught me everything I knew, made me the man that I was…the man whose name caused his enemies to tremble in fear.

We’d become so close before his murder, so when the assassination attempt on his life had been successful, I was blinded by rage, and all I wanted was vengeance.

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Twenty-one years ago…

“Baba, are you sure about this?” I asked my father in our native Russian tongue.

Being a man rooted in his culture and tradition, he barely spoke any English at all, only when absolutely necessary. So, around him, we only spoke Russian.

We were seated in the front row in a conference hall, and he was about to be called upon to give a speech. The audience were mainly businessmen and politicians, hence why the space was heavily guarded, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. We’d known for a while now that there was a mole in our organization who’d been leaking out our secrets to a rival organization, and I’d received word that my father’s life was in danger. But the old man was so goddamn stubborn; he wouldn’t listen.

“With the attempts on your life, I don’t think it’s wise to go up that podium,” I said to him, leaning close to whisper to his ears alone.

He laughed. “I can’t hide forever, Vlad. When death comes, there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Every decision you make trying to stop it will only lead you to the inevitable.”

“Does your life mean nothing to you, Baba?” I questioned, failing to understand his calmness about this.

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