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“I don’t see a big badass bratva boss like Roman having a broken heart.” James snorts. “The man is ruthless and cold as ice.”
“Well, maybe because he lost his heart!” I shrug. “Your cousin’s not much better, is he?”
“I think Konstantin has just been through so much that he has a hardened heart.” He looks at the journal. “I spoke to Sergei about what he knew about what happened to Konstantin. I was going to tell you at our next meeting, but then this happened.”
“What did you find out?” I glance at my wristwatch.
“Not much.” James sighs.
“You can tell me more on the road. We should head back to Boston and regroup. I want to find out where that fucking helicopter Konstantin had on the ranch was going because that’s where we’ll find Isabella.”
“I guess it won’t be any use to go check out the ranch now?” James suggests.
“I don’t suppose it will hurt. That’s if we can get back in.”
“No harm in trying.” James shrugs, closing the journal.
We go back to the ranch, but it’s shut up tight.
“Let’s head home, and you can tell me more about what happened twenty-eight years ago, according to Karina Zhukov Moretti.”
On our way back to Boston, James fills me in on the events from twenty-eight years ago involving Karina Zhukov Moretti and my mother. They had been in the city for a week when a Mafia boss received a container of contraband, prompting an FBI investigation. The container turned out to be filled with guns and drugs, accompanied by a recording incriminating the Irish Mob boss, Collin Cullen.
Collin Cullen was arrested, but his son Garth was given evidence incriminating my father’s older brother Grigory, Marco’s older brother Matteo, and Anatoli Andreev. The information linked the three of them to having sent out the containers to destabilize the crime families in order to take over their territories and products.
It was also leaked that the person who gave the information to Garth Cullen was my mother’s father. My grandfather claimed that Anatoli had kidnapped his wife and daughter, threatening to sell them if he didn’t pass or send the containers. As a result, Grigory, Matteo, and Anatoli were killed by the Irish Mob in retaliation.
Roman killed my grandfather as he believed he was lying and had gotten Anatoli killed. Anatoli was Karina and Roman’s younger brother. Karla Andreev was furious and, grieving the death of her youngest son, forced Roman to put my mother’s sister and their mother with a shipment of women that had been sold to a human trafficker.
Grace, my mother, was horrified by Roman’s actions and distanced herself from him. Ivan intervened and located Grace’s missing family members, but tragically, her mother died while protecting her youngest daughter, and Grace’s sister later took her own life.
Roman left America and vowed never to return. He threatened dire consequences if any Belov or Moretti dared to enter Russia.
Karla severed ties with Roman and her daughter, Karina, after Roman insisted she marry Marco Moretti. Karla retreated to Canada to oversee the Andreev Bratva until her grandson Lucien was old enough to take over.
The withdrawal of the Andreevs and Zhukovs from America, and the destabilization of a few other crime families, paved the way for Marco Moretti and Ivan Belov to solidify their positions as two of North America’s most powerful crime families.
James and I are quiet after he finishes reading the journal while we drive. Both of us absorb the chaos that unfolded six to eight months before my older brother was born.
A few weeks before Isabella turned twenty-one and our engagement was to be announced, the painted ladies started arriving at several prominent crime families. This time, the contraband was drugs and kidnapped women.
My father once told me that my grandfather’s vision was to unite the Bratva houses through bloodlines, forging alliances, and opening up trade routes, facilities, and product lines. He envisioned a future where our family’s influence would be unchallenged, and our power would extend across continents.
As we continue our journey back to Boston, I can’t shake the feeling that our family history is repeating itself in eerie ways and that my engagement with Isabella was supposed to be more than just a personal milestone—it was supposed to be a pivotal moment in our family’s legacy.
Isabella and I had played right into their hands. I glance at James, and a feeling of dread clutches my stomach. I hate to admit it, but James and Konstantin might just be right—Isabella and my child or children are a lot safer where they are—protected by the Zhukov.
“We can’t tell anyone that Isabella is pregnant!” I warn James. “While some may see it as a way of bridging alliances—there are a lot of others that wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“Agreed.” He nods. “Although you’ve already made it very clear to anyone who’ll listen that she might be.”
“I’d say Genevra owes us more than an explanation as to why Konstantin was holding out on her ranch,” I tell him. “She needs to tell everyone she made a mistake. Isabella couldn’t be pregnant.”
“Do you think that will work?” James looks skeptical, and anger flashes into his eyes. “I can’t believe my uncle and your father kept track of her monthly cycle like they were getting ready to breed a dog.”
“Don’t say it like that!” Anger and guilt spurt through me at his words. I also checked her monthly cycle to see if there was a possibility that Isabella could be pregnant.
“Why?” He glances at me. “It’s the truth, and now we know why. They created this whole perfect world around her and kept her from the shadows of our real world so she’d be pure. To breed the perfect legacy.”
