She stood, walking to her daughter's side, steadying Natasha's trembling shoulders.
"Natasha has known since she was sixteen that she would marry you. She turned down every suitor, studied at the finest Swiss schools—etiquette, arts, business management, everything needed to be a Don's wife." Her tone grew colder. "And now you're telling us this was all a joke?"
"Marriage alliances aren't necessary anymore." My voice stayed firm because I had a better choice now.
"Enough!" Father finally spoke. He sat in the armchair passed down through generations of Vorontsovs, his face dark as a storm, eyes burning with cold fury I'd never seen before. "Igor, do you know what you're saying? Do you understand what this marriage means?"
"It only serves your ambition." I turned to him, my tone unyielding. "You want this alliance to control the Ivanov drug network. But have you considered that the FBI already has them in their sights?"
"You ungrateful bastard!" Alexander pointed at me, roaring. "Our families have planned this marriage for years, and now you want to destroy it with a few words? What do you think we are?"
"Business partners," I said calmly. "Since we can't agree on business, we part ways."
"Good, very good!" He laughed coldly. "Since the Bratva doesn't want this marriage, we'll find more willing partners. Salvatore's eldest son has always been interested in Natasha. The Italians are far more sincere than you fake Russians!"
"Best of luck with that cooperation. Now get the hell out of here." I said, showing them to the door.
"You're a real piece of shit!" Natasha grabbed the crystal vase from the coffee table and hurled it at me.
I easily sidestepped. The vase shattered against the wall behind me, fragments and tulips scattering across the floor.
"You'll regret this, Igor Vorontsov!" Her lips trembled with rage. "I swear to God, you'll regret this!"
Natasha's mother took a deep breath, gently patting her daughter's hand to calm her. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with ice.
"The Vorontsov family will pay for today's decision." She elegantly adjusted her shawl, then looked at her husband Alexander.
Alexander finally addressed my father. "Vorontsov, I regret our cooperation must end this way. But believe me, the Ivanov family won't forget today's humiliation."
After delivering their threats, they left. Only Father and I remained in the living room. Neither of us spoke. I watched Father's straight figure, still maintaining perfect posture, as if the confrontation had been nothing more than an insignificant farce.
But I knew better. From his clenched fists, I could feel the rage he was suppressing.
After a long silence, Father finally spoke.
"Everyone out."
The butler and servants quickly exited the living room at Father's words, gently closing the door. Only Father and I remained.
"Do you know what you just did?" Father looked at me, his reproach hammering down like a sledgehammer. "You destroyed years of my planning. You made the Vorontsov family lose its most important ally. You pushed the Ivanovs toward Salvatore—our greatest enemy."
He walked toward me.
"You broke the engagement for a woman?" He finally lost his composure, roaring at me. "For a damn hotel waitress!"
I wasn't surprised he knew.
"She's my everything," I said.
"Everything?" Father sneered. "What do you think love is? Your mother was once my everything, too. And what happened? She died at our enemies' hands, and I could only watch helplessly! We Bratva should never make love our everything!"
"Don't mention my mother." I cut him off, my voicecarrying deadly intent. "You failed to protect her, so you have no right to mention her!"
"I have no right?" His laughter was full of mockery. "Igor, you think you can protect that girl Elena? You don't even fucking know where she is!"
The words hit like a knife, stabbing straight into my heart.
Three months. Since that damned Christmas night, Elena had vanished. I'd mobilized everyone, searched New York like a madman, but found nothing. She'd disappeared as if she'd never existed.
