Page 81 of Forced to Marry the Russian Pakhan
Akim’s face has gone rigid. “I don’t believe this!” he hisses in rage.
“I don’t particularly care what you believe,” I say. “The facts remain the facts. Yulia is carrying my child. Your grandchild,” I add, watching Akim’s jaw tighten. “And I thought you deserved to hear it from me directly.”
“Why?” Damien snaps. “Since when does Trifon Yuri extend professional courtesies?”
This is the moment. The real reason I called them here. I lean forward, meeting Akim’s gaze.
“Because I owe Yulia this,” I say plainly. “I used her as a pawn at the gala, and I won’t do that again to her, or our child.”
Arman barks out a harsh laugh. “You expect us to believe you’ve suddenly developed a conscience?”
“Careful, Arman,” I growl. “From this point forward, Yulia and our child are not leverage. They’re my family. And I protect what’s mine.”
The words come out before I’ve fully processed them, but as soon as they’re spoken, I know they’re true. Yulia is now under my protection, a piece of my family.
“Family?” Akim’s voice drips with contempt. “You forced my daughter into marriage. Isolated her from her real family. And now you’ve what—raped her too?”
My vision narrows, rage boiling up so fast I have to grip the edge of my desk to keep from lunging across it.
“Choose your next words very carefully,” I say, each syllable razor-edged.
“Why? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Arman chimes in.
“You don’t know anything about Yulia and me,” I growl.
“We know our sister,” Ilya roars. “She would never willingly—”
“What?” I cut in. “Sleep with someone like me? Create a life with someone like me?” I lean forward, keeping my voice dangerously low. “Maybe you don’t know her as well asyouthink.”
Akim’s face contorts with disgust. “My daughter is a good girl. Innocent and naive. She’s never been strong enough to stand up to men like you.”
And there it is. The truth they’ve been dancing around.
“Not strong enough?” I repeat, a cold laugh escaping me. “Is that what you think of her? That she’s weak?”
“She’s soft,” Damien says, as if explaining something obvious. “She can be taken for a ride by anyone. It’s why we’ve always protected her.”
“Protected her?” The rage in my chest builds, expanding until it threatens to choke me. “By keeping her in the dark about your business? By being ready to marry her off to the Zakharovs, the second it became politically convenient? You call that protection?”
Their silence confirms what I’ve suspected all along. They never valued her as anything more than a bride to be sold off.
“Yulia is stronger than any of you realize,” I say, rising slowly from my chair. “She performed emergency surgery on my sister with nothing but basic supplies and her bare hands. She runs a clinic that treats the most dangerous men in this city, and they respect her enough to follow her orders without question. She’s saved more lives in the past month than you four have in your entire existence.”
I’m circling the desk now, moving closer to them with each word.
“She stood up to me—to me when I first brought her here. She’s rebuilt her entire life after you all betrayed her, and she’s done it with more grace and courage than you could comprehend.”
Akim’s face hardens. “You don’t know my daughter.”
“I know her better than you ever have,” I counter. “I’ve seen her at her weakest and her strongest. I’ve watched her save lives and build something of her own from nothing. Can you say the same?”
The four men exchange glances, wariness etched on their faces.
“This changes nothing,” Akim says finally. “Except for the urgency of the situation. If my daughter is pregnant, she needs to come home where she belongs. Where she’ll be taken care of properly.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” I slam a hand on my desk.
“You can’t keep her prisoner forever,” Damien growls.
