Page 16 of The Bratva's Sextuplets
What is love, anyway, but a chemical imbalance in the brain? I suspect it might be an illness of sorts. Something a doctor should tend to.
Whatever it is, it has no place in our marriage. I think that’s obvious already.
The intelligence reports Viktor left behind contain photographs of Avgar at various meetings over the past weeks. In every image, he looks confident, determined, and completely convinced that he can succeed where others have failed. His expression reminds me of my father during his most aggressive expansion periods. It’s the look of a man who believes violence is the solution to every political problem.
I understand that confidence because I’ve inherited the same organizational advantages Nicky built over thirty years. Our superior resources, better political connections, and a reputation for ruthless efficiency make most enemies reconsider their options before committing to open warfare.
My father’s approach worked for three decades because the political environment was different then. Corruption was more accepted, federal oversight was less comprehensive, and public tolerance for organized crime was higher than it is now. The methods that built our empire could destroy it if applied without adaptation to current realities.
It’s too bad adaptation requires time, careful planning, and patience that enemies like Avgar interpret as weakness. Every day I spend modernizing our operations is another day he uses to prepare for war. Every compromise I make withlegitimate business practices is another opportunity he gains to demonstrate the new generation of Belsky leadership can be challenged successfully.
The wedding represents my attempt to balance these competing pressures. Marrying into the Lo Duca family provides political legitimacy and business connections that will help transition our organization toward more respectable operations. The ceremony itself demonstrates stability and confidence that should discourage potential rivals from testing our defenses.
Yet I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making a fundamental miscalculation about the woman I’m binding myself to. Zita Lo Duca isn’t just intelligent and educated. She’s principled in ways that could create problems I haven’t anticipated. Her questions about our business methods suggest she won’t be content to remain ignorant about how we generate income. Her resistance to traditional wife roles indicates she’ll expect genuine partnership rather than decorative compliance.
What happens when she learns the specific details of how we maintain our political relationships and realizes the comfortable lifestyle she’s entering requires moral compromises she might not be willing to make?
These questions keep me awake as I review security arrangements for the wedding venue. St. Alphonsus Cathedral can accommodate five hundred guests, but the Gothic architecture creates multiple concealment opportunities for anyone planning to disrupt the ceremony. Additional guards will be positioned throughout the building, but they’ll need to remain discreet enough that guests don’t realize they’re attending a potential military operation.
The guest list itself represents a comprehensive survey of Chicago’s power structure, both legitimate and otherwise. Federal judges will sit beside state senators, business leaders will mingle with union officials, and everyone will pretend they don’t understand the connections that bind these relationships together. It’s exactly the kind of event that attracts media attention and provides opportunities for enemies to make dramatic statements about shifting power dynamics.
Avgar could use the ceremony to demonstrate that our family can’t protect its most important celebrations. A successful disruption would prove that the Belsky organization has become vulnerable under my leadership, encouraging other rivals to test our defenses more aggressively. The political damage could be more destructive than any direct attack on our business operations.
The alternative—postponing or canceling the wedding—would achieve the same result through different means. It would signal that external threats can dictate our family’s most important decisions, that the new generation of leadership prioritizes safety over honor, that we’ve become exactly the kind of organization that can be intimidated into submission.
I pour myself another vodka and walk to the window overlooking our grounds. Security teams patrol the perimeter with increased frequency, their movements creating patterns of light and shadow across the landscaped gardens my mother designed before her death. She believed in creating beauty even in dangerous circumstances, in building something worthy of protection rather than simply defending what already existed.
The thought reminds me why I want to modernize our organization’s methods. Not because violence is inherently wrong, but because it’s becoming counterproductive forachieving long-term objectives. Not because I’m opposed to using force when necessary, but because I want that force to serve strategic purposes rather than emotional reactions.
A darker thought surfaces as I turn off the lights. Is marrying Zita Lo Duca really about securing power and legitimacy? Or am I chaining myself to someone whose influence could undermine everything I’m trying to build?
She’s intelligent, educated, and completely opposed to the methods that built our empire. She’s also going to be my wife, my partner, and potentially the mother of my children. Her opinions will carry weight in our household and possibly in our organization. Her values will influence decisions that affect thousands of people.
Viktor’s concerns about the marriage could be justified. Binding myself to someone who fundamentally disagrees with our approach to business might create vulnerabilities that enemies like Avgar can exploit. What if her moral objections become public knowledge? What if her resistance to our methods encourages others within the organization to question established practices?
What if I’m not gaining a political ally through this marriage, but acquiring a permanent source of internal opposition that will weaken my authority from within?
In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll discover whether the woman I’m marrying strengthens my position or compromises it. I’ll learn whether modernizing my father’s empire means finding new sources of power or abandoning the foundations that made it possible.
Either way, the wedding will proceed as planned, and I’ll be married to Zita Lo Duca by tomorrow evening. The rest is just details that will have to be managed as they develop.
7
Zita
Iwake up on my wedding day wanting to run.
The thought hits me before I’m fully conscious and remember where I am or why my stomach feels like it’s filled with broken glass. Then the reality crashes over me. I become Mrs. Tigran Belsky today though I don’t want to.
Sunlight streams through my bedroom windows, illuminating the wedding dress that hangs from my closet door like a beautiful prison uniform. The gown is everything Papa and the wedding planner discussed. It’s from Italian silk, with hand-sewn beadwork, and a cathedral train that will require two attendants to manage. It’s a masterpiece of craftsmanship that makes me feel sick to look at.
I force myself out of bed and walk to the window, hoping fresh air might ease the nausea that’s been my constant companion for the past week. Outside, our grounds are already bustling with activity. Catering trucks, florist vans, and what look like securityvehicles disguised as service providers create a small convoy in our circular driveway.
Security vehicles. The sight makes my stomach clench with fresh anxiety. Why would a wedding need security teams that look more suited for military operations than family celebrations? Knowing the answer doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Miss Zita?” Francesca’s voice comes from the hallway, accompanied by a soft knock. “Your father would like to see you before the preparations begin.”
Of course, he would. Papa probably wants to deliver one final lecture about family obligations and the importance of smiling appropriately for the cameras. “Tell him I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
