Page 97 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

The footage plays in silence.

I feel Vera’s hand brush against mine under the table. I don’t look at her, but I let my fingers intertwine with hers.

“But this was never really about my wife,” I continue. “Konstantin broke our oldest law, taking a woman under Zabota, to clear the way for the man he wants standing in my place. And that man has secrets of his own.”

I advance to the next slide. This footage is grainier, taken from a camera I’d installed at Dmitri’s apartment. It shows Anton entering the property just after us.

“This footage was taken at one of Dmitri’s locations,” I say. “Anton Grishin arrived at a property he should have no knowledge of, looking for the same ledger I was trying to find.”

Anton shifts in his seat. “This is circumstantial.”

“Is it?” I pull out a stack of documents and slide them down the table. “You were Dmitri’s right-hand man, and now you’re Konstantin’s. That ledger is proof of every fucked up thing the two of you have ever done. Like human trafficking.”

A murmur rises up among the group. Even in a world like ours, there are lines you simply don’t cross.

“You also attacked my home; I have the gash across my ribs to prove it.”

Pavel reaches for the documents, his brow furrowed. He reads through them slowly, his expression growing darker with each page.

Anton’s composure cracks. “This is a setup. Roman, you’re manufacturing evidence to discredit me.”

“Manufacturing?” I lean forward, my hands flat on the table. “You attacked my home and abducted Vera while she was under my protection. Harming her would have been bad enough, but you didn’t even wait for her Zabota period to end. All of this to claim the succession, when I should be Dmitri’s successor anyway.”

“Your succession is questionable at best.” Anton’s voice rises. “You were exiled, so you have no claim here.”

“My claim is stronger than yours.” I let the words hang in the air. “I am Dmitri’s brother. I am Konstantin’s son. I’m the one who has been running operations in this city since I came back while you’ve been kidnapping women.”

Vera shifts beside me. She fixes Anton with a dark look, but says nothing. I’m sure there’s plenty she would love to say, but the darkness in her gaze says everything words couldn’t.

Anton scoffs, ignoring her. “Running operations? You’ve been hiding behind your brother’s widow, using her as a shield.”

Vera’s grip on my hand tightens. I can feel her anger, but she stays silent.

“I haven’t been hiding,” I say. “I’ve been rebuilding. Restoring what Dmitri nearly destroyed with his recklessness. The shipping routes he was draining? I’ve stabilized them. The partnerships he was neglecting? I’ve reinforced them. The men he was alienating? I’ve brought them back into the fold.”

I pause, letting the words sink in.

“Anton, on the other hand, has been busy consolidating power through threats and intimidation.”

Anton stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “You think you can stand there and lecture me about leadership? You, who spent a decade in Siberia?”

“I spent a decade learning what you never will.” I meet his glare without flinching. “Siberia taught me patience and strategy. It taught me how to survive when everything is stacked against you.”

“It taught you how to be a dog,” Anton spits. “Crawling back to your master, begging for scraps.”

The room goes quiet. I can feel every eye on me, waiting for my response. Even Vera has shifted to look at me now, lip caught between her teeth.

“Roman?” she asks.

I reply by offering a tight smile. “A dog would have stayed in Siberia,” I say. “A dog would have accepted his exile and died in the cold. I came back, and I took everything that was taken from me.”

Anton’s face twists with rage. “You took nothing. Your father gave you⁠—”

“My father gave me nothing.” I cut him off. “He exiled me based on a lie and turned his back on me when I needed him most. Everything I have, I earned. I earned it through blood and sweat and sacrifice.”

I turn to address the council as a whole. “I understand that some of you have doubts about my claim, and that my exile raises questions about my loyalty and my capability. I ask you to look at the evidence before you today. Look at what Anton has done versus what I’ve accomplished.”

Pavel sets down the documents. His expression is thoughtful. “You make a compelling argument,” he says slowly. “Except there is still the matter of your marriage to Dmitri’s widow. This is no longer honoring the ninety-day mourning period. Very convenient.”