Page 13 of The Bratva's Sextuplets
“The scruples that kept us alive long enough to have this conversation.” Papa moves closer, and I see something dangerous flickering in his expression. “The scruples that prevented Nicky Belsky from treating us the way he treated families who refused his partnerships.”
“Partnerships.” I shake my head in disgust. “You keep using that word like it means something other than extortion.”
“I use that word because it’s accurate.” Papa’s tone becomes condescending. “Nicky offered protection and business opportunities in exchange for loyalty and cooperation. We accepted his terms because the alternative was destruction.”
“And now you’re offering me to his son to maintain those terms.” I walk toward the window, needing distance from hisjustifications. “How is that different from any other protection racket?”
“It’s different because you’ll have influence and power instead of just survival.” Papa follows me across the room. “As Tigran’s wife, you’ll be positioned to affect how the organization operates going forward. You could help shape a more ethical approach to business.”
The suggestion is so absurd I almost laugh. “You want me to reform the Russian Mafia through marriage? That’s your grand plan for addressing the moral complications of our situation?”
“I want you to accept reality and make the best choices available within our circumstances.” Papa’s voice hardens again. “Your mother couldn’t do that, and it destroyed our family. Don’t make the same mistake.”
The mention of Mom makes me flinch. “Mom left because she couldn’t tolerate watching you compromise our values for money and power. She was brave enough to walk away from a life that required moral flexibility she didn’t possess.”
“Your mother was selfish enough to abandon her daughter rather than fight for the family she claimed to love.” Papa’s words are delivered to wound as deeply as possible. “She chose her own comfort over your future security.”
“She chose her integrity over your business arrangements.” I turn to face him directly. “Something I’m apparently not allowed to do.”
“You’re allowed to choose how you respond to circumstances you can’t control.” Papa returns to his desk and picks up a different folder, this one thick with financial documents. “You’renot allowed to destroy your family’s future because you don’t like the methods required to protect it.”
He opens the folder and spreads several documents across the desk surface. I recognize some of them. They’re loan agreements, political contribution records, and property deeds with complex financing arrangements. Others are unfamiliar, but they all share the same theme of being obligations that require careful management and regular payments.
“Come look at this.” Papa gestures toward the documents with the expression of a teacher preparing to deliver an unwelcome lesson. “Your legal research has been very thorough, but it’s missing some crucial context.”
I approach the desk reluctantly, knowing whatever he’s about to show me will make my situation worse rather than better. The documents are organized chronologically, starting with agreements from the early days of Papa’s relationship with Nicky Belsky and progressing through increasingly complex arrangements that bind our family to theBratva’sinterests.
“This is what partnership actually looks like.” Papa points to a loan agreement dated fifteen years ago. “Five million dollars at below-market interest rates to fund the expansion of our shipping operations. This is what enabled us to compete with larger companies and establish our current market position.”
“This is what bought your soul.” I scan the document, noting the terms that seem reasonable until you consider who’s providing the funding. “Five million dollars from a criminal organization, which makes us accomplices to everything they’ve done since.”
“This is what kept us alive when our competitors were being systematically destroyed by market forces we couldn’t controlalone.” Papa pulls out another document, this one a property deed. “The warehouse complex where we conduct most of our operations was purchased with Belsky financing when traditional banks wouldn’t approve our loan applications.”
Each document tells the same story. Papa’s business empire is built on Russian money and dependent on Russian protection. Without Belsky support, Lo Duca Enterprises would have collapsed years ago under pressure from larger competitors and regulatory challenges.
“And this…” Papa pulls out the most recent agreement, dated just six months ago. “This is emergency funding to cover the losses from the Charleston port authority contract that went bad. That three million dollars prevented bankruptcy and maintained our workforce.”
I stare at the document, realizing its implications. Papa didn’t just sign the marriage contract ten years ago when I was a child. He’s been renewing and expanding our obligations to the Belsky organization regularly, with each new agreement making escape more impossible.
“You’ve been gambling with my future for years.” The words come out flat and emotionless. “Every time you needed money or protection, you made promises you couldn’t keep without sacrificing more of our independence.”
“I’ve been securing your future by ensuring we have one.” Papa gathers the documents and returns them to the folder. “These arrangements are the reason you grew up in comfort and safety instead of watching our business collapse like so many others.”
“These arrangements are the reason I’m going to spend my life married to someone I despise.” I walk back toward thewindow, seeking distance from the evidence of Papa’s financial dependence. “These arrangements are the reason my choices don’t matter anymore.”
“Your choices never mattered as much as you believed they did,” he says coldly. “You grew up privileged because I made difficult decisions that protected our family’s interests. Now, it’s your turn to make difficult decisions for the same reasons.”
The casual dismissal of my agency makes my chest burn with anger. “So, my education was pointless? My plans for taking over the business were just fantasies you let me maintain until it was time to trade me away?”
“Your education prepared you to be an effective partner in whatever circumstances you encounter.” Papa returns to his chair and pours himself a drink from the crystal decanter on his desk. “Your business training will serve you well as Tigran’s wife and eventual partner in managing expanded operations.”
“I don’t want to be Tigran’s partner in managing criminal operations.” I lean against the window, feeling the cool glass against my forehead. “I want to build something legitimate and ethical that doesn’t require moral compromises or arranged marriages.”
“Then you should have been born into a different family with different circumstances.” Papa takes a slow sip of his brandy. “Since you weren’t, and wishful thinking won’t change the reality of our situation, you’re stuck.”
The finality of his words brings tears to my eyes that I won’t let fall. There’s no sympathy in his expression and no acknowledgment that he’s asking me to sacrifice my entire future for decisions he made without consulting me. I’m justanother asset to be deployed in service of family interests, no different from the shipping contracts or real estate holdings that generate revenue.
“I know about the failed investments.” The words come out before I can stop them, fueled by anger and desperation. “The real estate deals that went bad, the political contributions that didn’t generate expected returns, and the equipment purchases that left us overextended financially.”
