It's all there in black and white. Everything Valentin said was true.
My company was just a vehicle for washing dirty money.
Fuck. I've been unknowingly working for monsters all along. And now they want me dead because I refused to play along.
I gather the papers and shove them back in the manila envelope before rushing out of my room. I need to speak with Valentin and get more answers.
I find Valentin in the kitchen, sipping some tea with a distant look on his face, but when he sees me enter, he immediately snaps to attention.
“How are you feeling?” He rises.
“I…” I take a seat opposite him, and he sits back down, pouring me a cup of tea and sliding it over.
I try to calm my racing thoughts just enough to form a sentence that makes sense. “I’m sorry, I didn’t believe you when you told me the truth.”
“I understand.” He gives me a small smile. “It is quite shocking, isn’t it?”
“And those men at my office were sent by the Zakharov Bratva? And the guys who own my building and my investors are the same?”
“That’s right,” he sighs and rubs his temple.
I swallow hard, my throat dry. Something still isn’t adding up. Valentin, despite having saved me, can’t just be a businessman.
“How do you know all these things?” I ask with a shaking voice. “It’s not normal for regular people to know how to clean up crime spots, or catch bad guys for answers, or have access to internal financial documents for the Bratva, is it?”
His eyes freeze on mine, and in that moment, I know there’s more to the picture. “Imports/Exports can get you rich, but not this powerful. Who are you, Valentin? And this time, please don’t lie to me.”
There’s a certainty in my voice that screams volumes, and I think he feels it too, because he gives me one spectacular nod like he’s gaining the courage to say something.
“Just tell me,” I ask again, my spine now straight as steel.
“I'm Bratva too. My family, the Yuris, controls the north side of the city. The Zakharovs control the south.”
The room tilts slightly, and suddenly, everything falls into place. Of course, the mansion, the guards, the obscene wealth and power didn’t come from business alone. I knew that the whole time in my heart, but simply didn’t know which direction to point a finger at.
“Fuck,” I hiss, the confusion and anger making my fists clench. “I married into the Bratva? What the hell were you thinking, Valentin? Bringing me into this mess?”
“I was trying to keep you alive,” he snaps. “The only reason the Zakharovs haven't stormed this place looking for you is that you're under Yuri's protection now. We’ve been warring a long time now, and they’d think twice before launching a personal attack on us. With you as my wife, if they lay a finger on a single strand of hair on your head, it’s as good as them declaring war.”
I want to scream, to throw something, to run until my lungs burn. But where would I go? Back to my place where killers wait? To the police, who, according to Valentin, are half-owned by the Zakharovs? I remember bragging about them at networking events, parading their logo across my pitch decks. And all this time, I was just someone else for them to exploit.
I'm trapped because the life I had built for myself no longer exists.
“So what now?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.
“Now you stay here, where it's safe. I'll have a workspace set up for you tomorrow. You can still run your business remotely, as we discussed.”
I close my eyes, exhausted. Part of me wants to keep fighting, to rail against this insane situation. However, the practical, survival-oriented part of me knows I need to think long-term.
“Fine,” I say finally. “Set up the workspace. I'll keep working.”
“You will?” He looks surprised.
“What choice do I have? I can't go back to my office. I can't go home. I might as well do something productive while I figure out how to get my life back.”
Or how to escape this nightmare entirely, I think, but don't say.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “For listening and believing me.”
