Chapter 15: Filthy Lies: Chapter 15

My phone vibrates while I’m watching Rowan feed Sofiya. With that simple buzz, the quiet domesticity of the moment—my wife’s sing-song humming, our daughter’s tiny grunts as she nurses—goes up in fucking smoke.

“Vin.” Arkady’s voice is taut. Warning bells immediately ring in my head. “We have a situation at the medical facility.”

“What kind of situation?” I step out of the bedroom, keeping my voice pitched low so Rowan can’t hear me over her lullabies.

“Yuri Belyaev was caught trying to access Rowan’s medical records.”

My blood freezes. Yuri Belyaev—one of my father’s most loyal captains. A man who wouldn’t take a piss without Andrei’s explicit, written permission.

“How do you know it was Rowan’s records specifically?”

“Because the moron asked for them by name. ‘Patient file for Rowan Akopov.’ The docs alerted security immediately.”

“Where is the mudak now?”

“Being held at the warehouse on Canal. Thought you’d want to handle this personally.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Make sure he’s comfortable.”

I don’t bother explaining. Arkady understands exactly what kind of comfort I mean.

I end the call and take a deep breath, composing myself before returning to the bedroom.

“Everything okay?” Rowan asks, looking up. She’s burping Sofiya, but her brow is furrowed as she glances at me.

“Business matter,” I say smoothly. “I need to step out for a few hours.”

“Anything serious?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” I lean down to kiss her forehead, then Sofiya’s. “I won’t be long.”

“Be careful,” she orders.

“Always am.” I force a smile I don’t feel. “Get some rest. You look tired.”

She nods, already turning her attention back to Sofiya. The sight of them together—my entire world condensed into two beings—fuels the cold fury building inside me.

My father has broken our arrangement. Again.

This time, there will be consequences.

The warehouse on Canal Street has served as our interrogation site for three generations of Akopovs. The basement level is soundproofed, the drains built into the concrete floor designed for easy cleaning.

Yuri sits tied to a metal chair in the center of the room, his wrists secured to the armrests with zip ties. His eyes widen when he sees me.

“Vincent,” he begins, “this is a misunderstanding⁠—”

I strike him across the face before he can finish. The crack of my knuckles against his cheekbone echoes in the sparse room.

“Let’s skip the part where you lie to me,” I suggest, shrugging off my suit jacket and handing it to Arkady. I roll up my sleeves methodically. “We both know why you’re here.”

“Your father only wanted information about her recovery,” Yuri sputters as blood trickles from his split lip. “For the family’s well-being⁠—”

Another blow silences him. This one loosens a tooth. I shake out my hand, the sting across my knuckles barely registering.

“My wife’s medical records are not within my father’s purview.” I circle behind him, letting him feel my presence without seeing me. “Our arrangement was clear. He maintains his symbolic position while I handle operations. He doesn’t get to monitor my family.”

“He worries about the heir,” Yuri gasps. “About the bloodline.”

I grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back until he’s staring up at me. “My daughter is none of his concern.”

“Vincent, please⁠—”

“What else?” I release him abruptly. “What other ways has my father been ‘worrying’ about my family?”

Yuri doesn’t answer right away. His eyes dart to the tools laid out on a metal table nearby. Pliers. A car battery with jumper cables. A hammer.

We did not invent these methods, but I’ll be damned if we haven’t perfected them.

“I can do this all day, Yurochka.” I select the pliers and test their grip. The tiny plink of the two metal heads clicking together might as well be a scream. “But I doubt you can.”

Four hours later, I have my answers. And they’re worse than I imagined.

My father hasn’t just been seeking information about Rowan and Sofiya. He’s been systematically undermining my authority since our arrangement. Contacting my captains behind my back. Issuing contradictory orders. Suggesting to our associates that my judgment is compromised by my “American wife.”

Worst of all, he’s been in contact with elements within the Solovyov organization. Not to align with them—even my father isn’t that foolish—but to leverage their threat against me. To create chaos he can step in and “solve” when I inevitably fail.

By the time I’m finished, Yuri is barely conscious. His face is unrecognizable. Two fingers broken. Electrical burns mark his torso where the jumper cables kissed his skin.

I haven’t enjoyed it. That’s the thing about this kind of work—it’s not about pleasure. It’s about necessity. About extracting information efficiently.

But I can’t deny the satisfaction of finally understanding the full scope of my father’s betrayal.

“Call the council,” I command Arkady as I wash blood from my hands in a rusty sink. “Emergency meeting. Tonight.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one.” I dry my hands on a rough towel. “And make sure my father attends.”

“What about him?” Arkady nods toward Yuri.

I study the broken man. Which weighs more: his usefulness or his crimes? “Clean him up. Enough that he can kneel. I want the council to see him.”

“And after?”

I meet Arkady’s eyes. He already knows the answer. “After, he’ll serve as a message.”

The council chamber falls silent as I enter. Fourteen men rise from their seats around the long oak table—captains, lieutenants, the power brokers of the Akopov Bratva. My father sits at the far end, his silver eyebrows drawn together in displeasure.

“What is the meaning of this emergency session?” he demands.

Instead of answering, I nod to Arkady, who opens the door. Two men drag Yuri into the room, forcing him to his knees in the center of the chamber. Folders containing evidence of my father’s betrayal are scattered around him.

My father’s face betrays nothing, but I see the minute tensing of his shoulders.

“Gentlemen,” I address the room, ignoring him entirely. “I’ve called you here to witness a lesson in loyalty.” I circle Yuri slowly. “This man—a trusted captain within our organization—was caught attempting to access my wife’s medical records on my father’s orders.” I gesture to the folders. “Further investigation revealed a pattern of betrayal that threatens not just my family, but the stability of our entire operation.”

Murmurs ripple through the room. Several council members pick up folders and scan the contents with grim expressions.

“My father and I had an arrangement,” I continue. “He would maintain his symbolic position while I assumed operational control. This arrangement was meant to preserve our strength during a vulnerable transition.” I lock eyes with Andrei. “Unfortunately, my father mistook my love for weakness.”

“These are baseless accusations,” my father interjects smoothly. “Yuri acted on his own initiative. I had no knowledge⁠—”

“Shut the fuck up.” My voice carves right through his lies. “You’ve lost the privilege of speaking in this chamber.”

The room goes deadly quiet. No one has ever spoken to Andrei Akopov this way before. Not in front of the council. Not even me.

I draw my gun from its holster. Without hesitation, without ceremony, I press it to the back of Yuri’s head and pull the trigger.

The gunshot is deafening in the confined space. Yuri crumples forward, blood and matter splattering across the polished floor. Several council members flinch. Others remain stone-faced.

They know the necessity of what’s happening.

I holster my weapon and face the council, Yuri’s blood still warm on my hands. “I’ve shown mercy once,” I announce. “There won’t be a second time.”

My father’s expression is glacial as I outline the new security protocols. From this moment forward, all communications will flow through me. My father will be removed from all operational decisions. His security detail will be replaced with men loyal to me. His movements will be monitored. His contacts restricted.

He will become a prisoner in his own kingdom.

“Anyone found violating these protocols will face the same fate as Yuri,” I conclude. “Any questions?”

Silence answers me. One by one, the council members nod their understanding.

“This meeting is adjourned,” I declare. “Arkady will provide each of you with detailed instructions regarding the new protocols.”

As the men file out, I remain standing, Yuri’s body at my feet. My father is the last to leave, pausing at the door to look back at me.

“You’ve made your choice,” he says quietly.

“No, Father.” I meet his gaze. “You made it for me.”

I spend thirty minutes in the shower when I get home, scrubbing away every trace of blood, every molecule of gunpowder residue. The water runs scalding hot, turning my skin red, but I welcome the pain. It helps me compartmentalize, helps me transition from the monster who executed a man in cold blood to the husband and father waiting for me in the other room.

But some stains don’t wash away so easily.

Rowan is in the nursery when I find her, rocking Sofiya to sleep. The scene is so serene, so pure, it makes my chest ache. How can I deserve this after what I’ve done tonight?

“There you are,” she whispers, looking up with a smile that falters when she sees my face. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Just a long meeting.”

She studies me with those green eyes that see too much, that have always seen too much.

“Vince,” she says softly, “what happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” I cross the room and kiss the top of her head, careful not to disturb Sofiya. “Business matters. Boring stuff.”

But Rowan isn’t fooled. She never is. Her hand reaches up to touch my face, fingers tracing the hard set of my jaw.

“I know that look,” she murmurs. “I haven’t seen it in a while, but I know it.”

I turn away, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”

“Vince.” Her voice stops me at the doorway. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. We promised no more secrets, remember?”

I look back at my wife.

And I lie to her.

“There’s nothing to tell. Really.” I force a smile. “Get some sleep. I’ll be in shortly.”

In the unlit living room, I stand by the window, staring out at the wild darkness beyond the security lights. Tonight, I became the man I swore to Rowan I was leaving behind.

I had no choice. My father’s betrayal left me no alternative.

But how can I look Rowan in the eye and tell her what I’ve done? How can I admit that the monster still lives inside me? That he always will?

She worked so hard to soften me, to believe in the better man I could become. The man worthy of her. Worthy of Sofiya.

Tonight, I failed them both.

And the worst part is, I’d do it again. Without hesitation. The need to protect them burns too fiercely, consumes too completely. If eliminating threats means reverting to the man I was—cold, calculated, merciless—then that’s the price I’ll pay.

Even if it means hiding the truth from the woman I love.

Even if it means becoming, once more, the very thing she fears.