Page 37 of Filthy Lies

“Your father only wanted information about her recovery,” Yuri sputters as blood trickles from his split lip. “For the family’s well-being?—”

Another blow silences him. This one loosens a tooth. I shake out my hand, the sting across my knuckles barely registering.

“My wife’s medical records are not within my father’s purview.” I circle behind him, letting him feel my presence without seeing me. “Our arrangement was clear. He maintains his symbolic position while I handle operations. He doesn’t get to monitor my family.”

“He worries about the heir,” Yuri gasps. “About the bloodline.”

I grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back until he’s staring up at me. “My daughter is none of his concern.”

“Vincent, please?—”

“What else?” I release him abruptly. “What other ways has my father been ‘worrying’ about my family?”

Yuri doesn’t answer right away. His eyes dart to the tools laid out on a metal table nearby. Pliers. A car battery with jumper cables. A hammer.

We did not invent these methods, but I’ll be damned if we haven’t perfected them.

“I can do this all day, Yurochka.” I select the pliers and test their grip. The tinyplinkof the two metal heads clicking together might as well be a scream. “But I doubt you can.”

Four hours later, I have my answers. And they’re worse than I imagined.

My father hasn’t just been seeking information about Rowan and Sofiya. He’s been systematically undermining my authority since our arrangement. Contacting my captains behind my back. Issuing contradictory orders. Suggesting to our associates that my judgment is compromised by my “American wife.”

Worst of all, he’s been in contact with elements within the Solovyov organization. Not to align with them—even my father isn’t that foolish—but to leverage their threat against me. To create chaos he can step in and “solve” when I inevitably fail.

By the time I’m finished, Yuri is barely conscious. His face is unrecognizable. Two fingers broken. Electrical burns mark his torso where the jumper cables kissed his skin.

I haven’t enjoyed it. That’s the thing about this kind of work—it’s not about pleasure. It’s about necessity. About extracting information efficiently.

But I can’t deny the satisfaction of finally understanding the full scope of my father’s betrayal.

“Call the council,” I command Arkady as I wash blood from my hands in a rusty sink. “Emergency meeting. Tonight.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one.” I dry my hands on a rough towel. “And make sure my father attends.”

“What about him?” Arkady nods toward Yuri.

I study the broken man. Which weighs more: his usefulness or his crimes? “Clean him up. Enough that he can kneel. I want the council to see him.”

“And after?”

I meet Arkady’s eyes. He already knows the answer. “After, he’ll serve as a message.”

The council chamber falls silent as I enter. Fourteen men rise from their seats around the long oak table—captains, lieutenants, the power brokers of the Akopov Bratva. My father sits at the far end, his silver eyebrows drawn together in displeasure.

“What is the meaning of this emergency session?” he demands.

Instead of answering, I nod to Arkady, who opens the door. Two men drag Yuri into the room, forcing him to his knees in the center of the chamber. Folders containing evidence of my father’s betrayal are scattered around him.

My father’s face betrays nothing, but I see the minute tensing of his shoulders.

“Gentlemen,” I address the room, ignoring him entirely. “I’ve called you here to witness a lesson in loyalty.” I circle Yuri slowly. “This man—a trusted captain within our organization—was caught attempting to access my wife’s medical records on my father’s orders.” I gesture to the folders. “Further investigation revealed a pattern of betrayal that threatens not just my family, but the stability of our entire operation.”

Murmurs ripple through the room. Several council members pick up folders and scan the contents with grim expressions.

“My father and I had an arrangement,” I continue. “He would maintain his symbolic position while I assumed operational control. This arrangement was meant to preserve our strength during a vulnerable transition.” I lock eyes with Andrei. “Unfortunately, my father mistook my love for weakness.”

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