Chapter Fourteen
Isaak
I immediately knew that something was wrong the moment I received that message.
It was an attachment; a video of the poor Italian princess.
Alessandro Santoro, the Don of the Italian mafia, had forwarded it to me.
He told me that as a father, I would understand, and as a ruler, I would take action.
I understood exactly what he meant.
I had seen countless videos like that, and recorded many of my own.
But after watching it, and understanding the history between us, I understood why.
My chest tightened.
My stomach dropped.
As Pakhan, it was a feeling I often wouldn’t allow myself to feel, but this…this was unacceptable.
It was unforgivable.
Something had happened, directly under my rule.
I had been curious for days—perhaps even weeks—wondering about my sons, their silence, their actions. But until I had solid proof, there was nothing that could be done.
Now, the truth is right here in front of me.
And I can’t help but wince at the sharp feel of betrayal piercing through my heart.
I have always prided myself on the loyalty of my men, and on the honour of my sons.
Always.
Not only are they my heirs; but they are my blood, my legacy, my pride.
I can’t help but question how they grew up to be like this, and how things had been kept under wraps for so long.
I can’t believe that they think this is acceptable; to do something like this to an Italian princess of all women.
To take her.
I grit my teeth, anger welling up inside me like a slow burn.
This isn't just some woman.
This isn’t just some faceless pawn in a game.
No.
She is the daughter of a man who was once an underboss, a woman whose bloodline stretches deep into the fabric of their mafia.
She isn’t someone to be treated lightly.
And there are years of history binding us Russians and Italians together.
But my sons, my own flesh and blood, have made her their prisoner, a captive in our home.
And for what?
I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
A misplaced sense of ownership?
A twisted form of control?
The idea of them treating her so badly makes something inside of me snap.
If they can be so cruel to this girl, so delicate and so caught up in a situation beyond her control, then what is stopping others from doing the same to my daughter? To the little sister of my two sons?
I force myself to release a heavy breath, trying my best to remain calm.
If I get angry now…that won’t be good.
This girl—Chiara—doesn’t belong here.
She shouldn't have been caught in the crossfire.
She shouldn't have been brought under my roof.
But now that she’s here, I’ll protect her with everything that I have.
I waste no time as I step into the small room.
Immediately spotting her, I find her curled into herself on the bed.
When she notices me standing by her doorway, her eyes widen, and she gasps, almost crying out. Fear flashes in her eyes, and she tugs the duvet cover closer to her chin.
She’s panicked, scared, and I can't help but feel like I am partially to blame for this too.
I should have realised it right from the very beginning.
Not moving into the room any further, I try to make myself smaller, so she’s not as afraid.
“Chiara.” I say softly. “How are you?”
I don’t ask the question just for the sake of asking—I need to know.
There’s something paternal in the way that I address her, something fatherly that takes root although she’s not mine.
If anything like this was to happen to my daughter…
No.
I won’t let my mind go there.
Chiara hesitates to say anything, and even after I press her for an answer, she remains silent.
It’s only after that I take a step forward that she speaks, her voice small and quiet, as she becomes desperate for me to leave.
“I-I’m fine.” She barely manages to whisper. “Please, leave me alone here.”
I shake my head, knowing that’s not possible.
“You are safe now, Chiara. I will make sure of it.”
My gaze is soft as I look down at her, but she still flinches.
I would be surprised if she didn’t.
But there’s no need for her to fear anything under my roof—not while I’m here.
As my jaw tightens, and I force myself to continue breathing, I can’t help but think about my sons.
In what world did they ever think this is acceptable?
How could they have taken her, and lied to my face about it too?
The realisation hits me like a punch to the gut.
My sons, my two precious boys, have crossed a line, and it’s one I can’t ignore.
This relationship with the Italians, this alliance I’ve spent years maintaining, is now at risk, and it’s all because of the reckless actions of my two sons.
Fuck, I’ve never been so disappointed in them like this before.
“I want Nikolai and Mikhail.” Chiara whimpers, catching my attention. “Where are they? When will they be back?”
I glance over at Chiara again, her eyes meeting mine.
This girl—this innocent girl—doesn’t deserve any of this. And until she is returned to her family, I will be treating her like one of my own. I will protect Chiara in the way that I would want someone to protect my own daughter; my Alexis.
I just hope that my sons will understand the gravity of this situation, and the positions they’ve put themselves—and me—in.
Because the Italians?
They won’t be so forgiving.
Especially not after everything we have already put them through.
And if I have to play this game, I’ll play it my way.
I will keep me, and mine, safe.
I walk back into my office, my mind racing, the weight of my thoughts bearing down on me like an iron vice.
How have my sons gotten to this point?
My mind swims with all sorts of questions.
How have they been able to keep something like this from me?
How has Chiara been kept captive under my own roof?
I should have known.
I should have sensed it.
But somehow, I let it slip under my radar.
And that’s. Just. Not. Good. Enough.
Closing my office door behind me, I take a seat at my desk.
My sons…my Nikolai…my Mikhail…
So strong.
So capable.
And always so confident.
But now, after all of this?
I can’t help but wonder how much I really know.
How have my sons managed to involve this Italian princess, bring her here, and force her to become part of this?
How have they convinced themselves that this is acceptable, to play with the Italian princess like she’s some sort of property?
It goes against everything I have ever taught them.
They learnt the art of subtlety, and mastered the art of discipline that kept our family standing all these years.
And yet, here they are, keeping secrets from me.
I lean back into my chair, a deep sigh escaping my lips.
How?
How did my sons do it?
Were they blinded by their own desires, so intoxicated by their own power, that they didn’t think they needed to answer to me any more?
I have always been their leader; their Pakhan.
Always.
I’m the one who’s guided this family through the darkest of times, the one who’s protected our legacy.
And now, I’ve found myself at a crossroads.
Gripping the edge of my desk, I watch my knuckles turning white.
I can’t afford to lose control.
I can’t afford to show weakness.
But the more I think of it, the clearer it becomes.
I can’t ignore this. Not when my sons are involved, and not with Chiara thrown in the mix too.
And as I think of Francesco—Chiara’s father—a mix of emotions rush through me.
I only focus on the pain he must be feeling, not knowing where his daughter is, not knowing whether she’s dead or alive.
It’s a suffering I understand too well; not knowing where my Alexis is, not knowing if she is safe or not.
That ache never leaves.
I release a heavy breath, shaking my head to clear it, but it doesn’t help.
My mind is still trained on my daughter, the one I had lost so many years ago. The little girl who had been taken from me, stolen before I even had a chance to truly protect her, and to shield her from the world. The memory of that day haunts me in ways that I can’t even describe, even to this day.
A father is to protect his children.
That is our role. That is our responsibility.
Yet because of some foolish actions, I failed my little girl.
I force the thoughts away, not allowing myself to think too deeply about that.
Not now.
Not when the burden of the present is so heavy.
I have to focus on what I need to do.
I have to protect my sons from their own decisions, and in turn, I have to protect the family legacy.
I won’t let this destroy us.
Not again.
Another tragedy won’t unfold on my watch.
Not when I’ve already lost so much.
Sighing heavily, I pick up my phone.
My finger hovers over the screen for a second, thinking.
I haven’t seen my daughter in years, not physically, though I always have eyes on her. The information I receive about her, about her wellbeing, and the people she interacts with has always been a constant. I know everything, and yet, I know nothing.
Maybe this is one step closer to bringing my daughter back to me.
I exhale slowly, dialling the number. The phone rings, and I wait until I hear the voice on the other end.
“Isaak.”
The voice answers, his tone polite, but businesslike.
I take a seat in my chair, letting the words slip through my lips.
“Alessandro.” I say. “I have some news regarding Chiara Giovanni. Will you be able to come here?”
There’s a slight tightening in my chest as the words leave me, but it doesn’t matter.
I trust Alessandro, and I know he will help me fix this.