28. Roman
ROMAN
The council chamber at Konstantin’s estate hasn’t changed since I was a boy. The same heavy oak table dominates the center of the room, its surface scarred by decades of deals and betrayals.
I stand at the head of the table. Vera is beside me, her spine straight and her chin lifted. She’s wearing a dark dress that makes her look like she’s attending a funeral, which feels appropriate.
Konstantin sits at the opposite end, his expression unreadable.
The elders file in one by one. Pavel Sorokin takes his usual seat, his eyes flicking between me and the empty chair where Anton should be.
Lev positions himself by the door, his hand resting near his jacket in a gesture that’s become habit.
The door opens again, and Anton strides in like he owns the room. Two of his men flank him, their faces carefully blank. He takes his seat without looking at me, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.
“Let’s begin,” I say.
The screen at the far end of the room flickers to life. I’ve spent the last several hours preparing this presentation, gathering every piece of evidence I could find. The first image that appears is security footage from the penthouse, timestamped and clear.
“This was taken during the first attack on my penthouse,” I say. “Konstantin entered my home through a service entrance. His men incapacitated my security detail and abducted my wife.”
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.”
“Convenient?” Vera speaks up for the first time.
Her voice is clear and steady. “I was abducted from my home and forced to stand at an altar next to a man I didn’t choose.
Roman saved me, because he gave me a choice when no one else would.
He was forced to marry me to keep me safe. It’s what Dmitri would have wanted.”
Smart woman. I don’t give a shit what Dmitri would have wanted, of course, but she’s playing them right into her hands. Using the Bratva poster child to sway their judgment. I expect nothing less from a woman as incredible as Vera.
She turns to face the council, her gaze sweeping across each of them.
“I know how this world works. I know that women are often treated as commodities to be traded and bargained for, but I also know that Roman sees me as more than that. He sees me as a partner. Regardless of how we got here, that’s something worth fighting for.”
The room is silent. Even Anton seems momentarily taken aback by her words.
I let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again.
“The council has a choice,” I say. “You can continue to support a man who attacks his own people, or you can support me. Someone who has proven his loyalty and his capability. Someone who will lead this family into the future instead of dragging it back to the past.”
Pavel exchanges glances with the other elders. I can see the calculations happening behind their eyes.
“There is one more matter to consider,” Pavel says finally. “Dmitri’s ledger. It contains information that could damage all of us if it falls into the wrong hands.”
“I’m aware of the ledger,” I say. “I’m working on recovering it. It has information that I’d like to see, too.”
Information that will prove what a snake Konstantin really is.
“Working on it?” Anton sneers. “You don’t even know where it is.”
“I know more than you think.” I let the implication hang. “When I find it, I’ll use it to strengthen this family, not tear it apart.”
Anton opens his mouth to respond, but Konstantin raises a hand. The room falls silent.
“My son has made his case,” Konstantin says. His voice is measured, careful. “As has Anton.”
One of the elders leans forward, fingers steepled. “Ordinarily, we would take time to review the evidence and decide how to proceed. However, Anton, you know that attacking one of our own is a most serious offense.”
Anton winces, but he meets the elder’s gaze. “This so-called evidence is?—”
“Enough. The council will now vote on whether Anton Grishin is considered guilty, and whether he will be allowed to remain successor to Dmitri Volkonsky.”
The voting is quick. One by one, the elders raise their hands. Some look apologetic as they cast their lot with me. Others look resigned. In the end, the count is clear.
Anton has lost.
He stands slowly, his face pale with fury. “This isn’t over,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.
“I’m counting on it,” I reply.
He turns and strides toward the door, his men trailing behind him. At the threshold, he pauses and looks back. His eyes meet mine, and I see the promise of violence in them.
Whatever comes next, he intends to make me bleed for this.
The door closes behind him, and the room exhales.
Pavel rises from his seat. “The council recognizes Roman Volkonsky as the rightful successor to Dmitri Volkonsky’s territory and holdings. May he lead with wisdom and strength.”
The words are a formality, but they carry weight. I’ve won this battle, but the war is far from over.
I turn to Vera. Her eyes are bright, her expression a mixture of relief and exhaustion.
“Let’s go home,” I say.
She nods.
We walk out of the council chamber together, leaving the elders to their deliberations and Konstantin to his schemes.