Chapter 5 —Ravyn
I stood outside the giant oak door at the entrance to my father’s mansion, my hand hovering over the doorbell. My heart was racing in my chest as I wondered what bad news awaited me behind the closed door.
Each time I stopped by to check on Dad, things just kept getting worse and worse. I was tired of this endless suffering and wished that for once, I’d see a glimmer of hope—a way out of this situation.
I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath, and then rang the bell. A moment later, the housekeeper answered the door wearing her signature polite smile.
“Hi, Penelope,” I greeted her, my lips curling into a genuine grin.
“Ravyn,” she called softly, a little shocked to see me. “I wasn’t expecting you today.” She stepped out of the way, clearing my path.
I walked inside, heels clicking against the fine marble floor. “Well, I was bored at home, so I decided to stop by.”
Penelope closed the door behind us. “That’s quite thoughtful of you, Ravyn.”
I turned around and faced her, watching the mild sympathy playing in her gaze.
“Your father sees your efforts,” she added. “He might not say it, but he appreciates it.”
I flashed her a faint smile.
Penelope was the only member of the domestic staff who stayed behind, determined to help the family through these difficult times. She had always been like a mother to me since I was little. Penelope played a major role in shaping the woman I’d become.
If loyalty were a person, it would be her. She had my love and respect—my father’s as well.
She drew closer and took my hand, her green eyes boring into mine. “How are you holding up, child?” she asked, her voice soft and tender.
I paused, feeling the weight of my heavy heart. “I’m fine,” came my response. “It’s Dad that I’m worried about.”
She squeezed against my fingers. “He’s worried about you, too.”
“Then why doesn’t he tell me anything, Penelope?” I asked her, a glint of frustration lacing my tone. “He’s always avoiding my questions, and all I wanna do is help.”
“I know.” She beamed at me. “He knows that, too. It’s just—you know your father. He’s a tough nut to crack.”
“He’s too proud to let me help.”
“And you’re too stubborn to back down,” she teased, her smile still in place.
“I wonder who I got that from.” My eyes crinkled at the corners as a smile crept onto my lips.
“You’re right. He’s as stubborn as a mule.”
I laughed softly, and she did the same, the sound easing the heaviness from my chest.
“Where is he anyway?” I asked.
“In his study,” she answered, nodding in that direction. “He’s been in there all morning.”
“God, I hope things haven’t spiraled out of control,” I murmured under my breath, fingers rubbing my eyes. “I’m gonna go check on him now.”
She gave me a final nod and a smile, and I walked away, praying that the situation hadn’t moved from bad to worse.
Each step toward the study sharpened the muffled voice seeping through the door. His tone was low but laced with urgency. And although I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, two words stood out. Liquidation. Bankruptcy.
My heart skipped a beat, and after a moment of hesitation, I finally knocked on the door. His voice fell silent immediately. What followed was a whisper.
I knocked again.
“One minute, Penelope!” he barked.
“Dad, it’s me!”
Silence.
A few seconds later, the door opened slightly, revealing the dimly lit study. He walked back to his desk, his fingers combing through his dirty blond hair.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The curtains were drawn, and the air was thick with the scent of brandy and old paper.
“Dad, what’s going on?” I asked, my tone dripping with curiosity and anxiety.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said dismissively, reaching for the half-empty glass of brandy on his table.
“Don’t gimme that,” I snapped, my brows furrowing to form deep creases on my forehead. “I’m not a child anymore, you know—I can help.”
He gulped the drink all at once and set the glass down softly on the table. The man looked worried, dare I say... scared. He was spooked by something, and that scared the hell out of me because I’d never seen my father look so scared before.
I drew closer, my heart racing in my chest. “Dad, talk to me…please.”
He paused, holding my gaze for a second. “What do you wanna know?”
“The truth,” I answered. “I wanna know the truth. I wanna know what’s really going on.”
He wiped a palm across his face, then gestured at the visitor’s chair. “Sit down.”
My heart sank into my stomach because now I knew he was finally letting me in. I’d asked for the truth, but was I strong enough to handle it? Was I ready for what he was about to disclose?
Only one way to find out.
I sat down, hands on my lap, eyes pinned on him.
He sank into his chair, placed his elbows on the table between us, and said, “The family business is drowning in debt.”
Okay, I knew that. Tell me something I don’t know, I thought to myself.
He continued, “Every month, we sink deeper, but that’s not even the problem.”
I squinted my eyes, bracing myself for the bombshell.
“The problem is that those we owe debts to—the creditors—are not ordinary men. Not investors. Not bankers.”
Now he had me confused.
My eyes narrowed, head tilting slightly to the side. “What do you mean they’re not ordinary men?” I asked, my heart pounding like a drum.
He swallowed hard, and his single-word reply sent a shiver down my spine. Dad looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Mafia.”
My heart stopped for a moment, breath lodged in my throat as my eyes widened in despair. “Mafia?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that. This is why I never wanted to tell you.” His low voice had a rough edge as he kept his eyes downcast.
“Excuse my shock, Dad,” I shot back, my chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “But did you expect—how’d you think I was going to take this?”
“I don’t know. With a little less condemnation, maybe.”
My scowl deepened, voice wavering with fear and fury. “Are you kidding me? You crawled into bed with the Mafia, Dad. The fuckin’ Mafia!”
He rubbed his eyes. “Saying it out loud doesn’t change anything.”
I drew a deep, long breath, trying to calm my nerves.
“Listen, I thought I could manage them, alright?” he began. “I thought I could keep them at bay. But they never stop. Once they have their claws in you….” His voice trailed off, his gaze masking the fear simmering beneath the surface.
I exhaled sharply, pulse running a marathon. “Now, what?”
“The Bratva will get back to me,” he answered.
My brows arched in disbelief. “The Bratva?” My eyes widened in fear and disappointment. “Of all Mafia gangs, you chose the Bratva to deal with.”
“It’s useless crying over spilled milk, Ravyn,” he said quietly.
Before I could say another word, a vehicle pulled up outside, gravel crunching under the tires. Dad got out of his chair and parted the curtains on the window, revealing a black SUV parked beside the fountain.
The backseat door opened, and a tall man stepped out of the vehicle, fingers fastening the button of his suit jacket. I looked outside the window, wondering who the Bratva had sent over to the house. The second the man turned in our direction, my face flattened.
It was Lev Tarasov himself.
My jaw tightened, and my body stiffened in an attempt to mask my fear.
He looked around the compound, his pale eyes sweeping over the estate as if cataloging its worth. His diamond watch gleamed faintly around his wrist, his charcoal outfit catching the last of the sun.
I watched him walk with slow, confident steps toward the front door, flanked by two huge men. Dad turned around and faced me, fear dancing in his eyes.
“Ravyn, can you please excuse—”
He was still talking when I cut him off. “No, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.”
He wiped his face with a white handkerchief, a hint of frustration lacing his tone. “Now isn’t the time to be stubborn. This man is dangerous.”
“That’s exactly why I’m not going anywhere.” I folded my arms across my chest. “There’s no way in hell I’ll leave you and that lunatic alone in one room.”
He combed his fingers through his hair and shook his head, knowing I meant every word.
About a minute later, the door opened, and Lev barged in with two of his men. Dad rose to his feet almost reflexively, his chest heaving with slow breaths.
The housekeeper rushed in after the intruders. “I’m sorry, sir, I tried to stop them—”
“It’s okay, Penelope,” Dad said to her. “You can leave us now.”
She hesitated, as though she could sense the unease in the room. Her gaze left my father’s face and then settled on me. A second later, she glanced at Lev and his men, then exited the room without a word.
“You don’t knock in your culture?” Dad asked Lev, trying to sound confident.
“Not when I’ve to collect,” he replied, his voice cold and husky. “Robert Jensen.” He walked further into the study, his footsteps measured and deliberate. “You owe my organization 25.8 million dollars….”
What?
My eyebrows shot up in disbelief, my heart pounding like a galloping horse. Lev’s presence in the study was oppressive, draining the air from the room. And now this figure he mentioned hit me harder than a slap across the face.
He continued, “Interest compounding monthly. Late fees stacking by the week. Deadlines ignored, payments missed.” The words tumbled out of his mouth calmly, each syllable gentle yet menacing.
I glanced at my father, but he wouldn’t look in my direction.
“You signed the papers,” Lev said, his eyes pinned on my dad. “You know what happens when numbers like that are unaccounted for.”
“Listen, I intend to pay you your money. I just need more time.” Dad swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbling hard.
Lev reached for the Rubik’s Cube sitting on Dad’s table and picked it up. “Intentions don’t pay debts, Robert. Money does. Or blood.” His eyes flicked in my direction on the last statement.