Page 8 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
I didn’t have any proof that they were involved in my father’s misfortune, but it seemed likely they were. This storm had hit the Jensen family around the same time I ended things with Viktor.
I’d humiliated him at his brother’s party in front of the guests. And considering the fact that they were in the Mafia, it was only logical that they’d want revenge.
This was a meticulously planned attack on my father’s business. The Bratva was responsible, but they were clever enough not to leave any fingerprints. I lacked proof or evidence, only a strong suspicion that Lev Tarasov was involved in all of this chaos.
Maybe my father was aware of this. Maybe he wasn’t. However, each time I tried to speak with him about the family’s current situation, he’d avoid my questions. He always told me not to worry and that he would figure it out. But his eyes—tired and haunted—hinted at something even more disturbing.
The Bratva was working against us from behind the scenes. Maybe I’d tear a page from their own book. Because of their greed and corruption, counterfeit goods flooded the fashion supply chain.
If I could create an awareness about this anonymously, then maybe—just maybe—I could fight back from the shadows as well.
It wasn’t going to be easy, especially because he owned half the city and half the cops. But I’d find a way around this.
A few minutes later, I reached my apartment, but just before walking into the building, I spotted a black SUV parked by the sidewalk. It was dark, so I couldn’t see the driver’s face, but they had a lit cigarette between their lips.
I shrugged it off as nothing and went into my apartment. I locked the door behind me, tossed the bunch of keys onto the nearest table, and walked into the living room. I headed straightto the bedroom, took off my jacket, and collapsed face down on the soft, comfy mattress.
Exhausted, I lay there, fighting with the countless thoughts threatening to tear my mind apart.
Later that night, while taking out the trash, I realized the black SUV was still parked across the street. I paused for a second, watching the vehicle with squinted eyes. I looked around the serene environment; an old couple was walking down the street, and a dog was barking in the distance.
The flickering street lamps cast long, eerie shadows along the pavement, and the alleyways seemed darker tonight.
I threw away the trash and then went back inside, ignoring the parked SUV as nothing to worry about.
Chapter 4 —Lev
Sirens wailed in the distance as I stood at the floor-to-ceiling glass window with both hands in my pockets. The city sprawled beneath me like a chessboard that only I commanded, lights glittering in the dark, sharp and dangerous.
The harsh scent of vodka drifted through the air, blending with the smell of aged paper. My laptop sat open on my desk behind, my table stashed with paperwork that I had yet to attend to.
My mind was reeling from the recent development that had somehow affected my operations within the city. A storm was coming; I could sense it, and as insignificant as this problem was, it could escalate if not handled properly.
Someone had found a loophole, a single loose thread in our operations, and they’d tugged at it. Nothing serious, but enough to cause damage. Now, I had the Feds on my tail, watching my every move because someone had tipped them off.
My allies in law enforcement were already on the case, working day and night to get the Feds off my back. According to my sources at the police station, someone had been anonymously sending proof of my illegal activities in the city.
Whoever they were, they knew I owned the cops, so they sent the same evidence to the Feds. Like a backup plan just in case the police shoved the case under the rug.
This anonymous attacker was going through a lot of trouble to get the Feds involved. Perhaps they thought a federal investigation was the first step in pulling me down. Nativity at its peak.
There was no point guessing who this anonymous enemy was. I knew without a shred of doubt that it was Viktor’s ex-girlfriend—the smart, brave girl—Ravyn Jensen.
It was her.Shewas the one tipping the Feds.
Ravyn probably figured that the Bratva was responsible for her father’s downfall. She likely connected the dots and traced everything back to me. This little stunt with the Feds was just a weak attempt at revenge. Cute.
She should’ve just stayed the fuck away and accepted the consequences of her actions. Instead, she chose to wage war against me—she decided to fight a losing battle. Interesting how she thought I wouldn’t figure out that she was the one behind this.
My lips curved into something between a faint grin and a snarl. The girl’s got some nerves. Clearly, she was braver than I gave her credit for.
I heard my phone buzz on the table behind me, and a quick glance at the screen revealed who the caller was. Marko from the Compliance Division.
I picked up the phone.
“Boss,” he said on the other line. “I dug into the traffic you asked about.”
“And?”
