The blood drains from my face. I've heard of the Bratva, of course. Everyone in Boston has. They’re underground Russian mobsters who run everything from drugs to weapons to human trafficking. They're the boogeyman parents warn their teenagers about so they don’t get mixed up with the wrong crowd, the shadow organization whispered about on conspiracy theory forums on the internet.
But my business is being funded by them? No. That doesn’t seem to be right.
“Why would the Bratva fund my business?” I shake my head in confusion. “You’re absolutely nuts to believe that’s true. Z Ventures is a legitimate investment firm. They've given funding to dozens of startups.”
“Look, that’s what I’ve learned, Gela,” Valentin says patiently. “I’m not lying about this.”
“No.” I back away further. “No, no, no. My business is real, and I built it from nothing. I don’t know what you’re trying to convince me of here, but it won’t work.”
“I’m not convincing you of anything!” His voice rises.
“You’re trying to justify torturing that man so I don’t look at you like a monster, and you’re willing to throw fire on all my hard work just to get what you want!”
“I'm not saying you didn't work hard,” he says, his voice softening. “I’m just saying the Bratva used it, Gela. I wouldn’t stoop so low as to lie about something like this.”
My head spins with this new information. If what he's saying is true, then everything I've worked for, everything I'm proud of, is tainted and built on blood money.
“I need—I need to be alone,” I stammer, turning and rushing up the stairs toward my room.
“Gela, wait!”
I don't stop. I run into my bedroom, slam the door behind me, and choose to lock it for good measure. Then I slide down against it, hugging my knees to my chest. Soon enough, the pain rises like a tornado I can’t hold back, rising and rising and swirling until I break out into sobs.
Could it be true? I try to remember everything about Z Ventures. I've never met anyone from the company in person, and all our interactions have been conducted via email, phone calls, or their representatives.
The money appeared in my account without any delay right after I signed the paperwork, and at the time, I thought I was just lucky to have found investors who believed in me.
What a fool I've been.
I get up and move to my bed before dropping into it and curling up, my mind still racing.
Even if what Valentin says about Z Ventures is true, it doesn't excuse what he did to that man. The torture. The blood. No one deserves that, even criminals.
But then I remember the gun aimed right at me. They would have killed me without hesitation.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I don't know how long I lie there spiraling, when I hear something slide under my door. I look over to see a manila folder on the floor. I don’t move for a long time, just staring at it like it’s poison.
I don’t want to see a thing Valentin sends. After how he tortured that man, Valentin’s not to be trusted. I lie curled up in bed, my mind replaying tonight on a loop. The whole time, I keep staring at that envelope.
Eventually, I feel like I need to do anything to shut the horrors replaying in my brain, and the envelope’s the only thing that promises some form of distraction. I feel like a Zombie when I climb out of bed to get it, unable to even think straight.
There’s an envelope, and for some reason, I feel compelled to open it.
I don’t give myself time to even analyze what the contents might be, and whether it might be another one of Valentin’s tricks, before I rip it open.
I pull out some printouts, notarized financial records, and company registrations. I spread them across the bed and need to read them a few times before my brain stops spiraling long enough to understand what’s right in front of me.
At last, I’m able to form the whole picture. Z Ventures was established five years ago as a subsidiary of Zakharov Holdings. The principal owner is none other than Anton Zakharov, a notorious mobster boss, as evidenced by multiple newspaper clippings attached.
Zakharov Holdings? I feel my heart begin to race. After securing the investment, Z Ventures provided me with the subsidized office space I badly needed in the Zakharov building.
I didn’t think much of it at the time, except that my funders were obviously well-connected. I was ecstatic, thrilled, and on top of the world.
But after what Valentin said and with all this evidence in my hand, it’s all starting to make sense.
I shift to the next document, one showing Z Ventures accounts being flagged for suspicious activities, after which their money started flowing into startups like mine.
