Chapter 7 - The Uncle’s Ultimatum
Dmitri Volkov was Damian’s father’s older brother—a ruthless warlord who had been exiled to Eastern Europe five years ago after attempting a bloody coup within the Volkov Syndicate. His return to New York meant only one thing: war.
"You don't belong in this city, Dmitri," Damian said, keeping his weapon raised, his body completely shielding me. "The council stripped your titles."
"The council is dead, nephew," Dmitri sneered, taking a step forward with his cane. "Or did you forget that I control the shipping routes through Europe? You thought you were clever, exposing the Vales today. But while you were playing PR games with the media, I bought out your board members."
Elena emerged from her room in her wheelchair, escorted by Viktor, who held a shotgun trained on Dmitri.
"Dmitri," Elena said, her voice shaking with righteous fury. "You murdered my husband. You have no shame coming back into this house!"
Dmitri looked at Elena with cold disdain. "Ah, sister-in-law. Still breathing? How tragic." He shifted his gaze back to Damian. "I didn't come here to kill you tonight, Damian. That would be too messy. I came to deliver an ultimatum."
He tossed a thick black envelope onto the coffee table.
"The annual Syndicate Summit takes place in three days," Dmitri said smoothly. "If you do not step down as Don and hand over control of the Volkov financial network to me, I will release the evidence showing that your father’s death wasn't an assassination by rival families..."
Dmitri smiled maliciously, looking directly at Damian. "...but an execution ordered by your mother."
Elena gasped, clutching her chest as her face drained of all color. "That’s a lie! A monstrous lie!"
"Is it?" Dmitri chuckled softly. "The council won't care if it's true or false, sister-in-law. Once the allegation is raised, Damian will be forced to execute his own mother according to Syndicate law—or be executed alongside her."
Damian’s knuckles turned white around the grip of his gun. "Get out of my house before I break my rule about shedding blood in front of my family."
Dmitri chuckled, adjusting his coat. "Three days, Damian. Choose between your empire... or your mother."
With a flick of his wrist, Dmitri turned and walked out of the penthouse, surrounded by four heavily armed mercenaries who had disabled the building's elevator security.
The moment the doors closed, Elena began gasping violently for air, her lungs seizing up under the immense stress.
"Mother!" Damian dropped his gun, rushing to his mother's side.
"Sofia! Help me!" Marco yelled, bringing the oxygen machine from the medical room.
I knelt beside Elena, holding her trembling hands, guiding her through deep, rhythmic breathing exercises just as I had done for my own mother a hundred times at St. Agnes Hospital.
"In... and out, Elena. Focus on my voice," I urged gently, rubbing her back. "Don't listen to him. Focus on us."
After several agonizing minutes, Elena’s breathing stabilized. She looked up at Damian with tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
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"Damian," she sobbed softly. "He’s trying to tear us apart... he wants to destroy everything your father built."
Damian gently kissed his mother's forehead, then turned to look at me. In his eyes, I saw something I had never seen before: a terrifying, absolute vow of retribution.
