Chapter 25: Forbidden Vows: Chapter 25

I’m numb.

I’ve been numb since my father’s wake.

I sit quiet and still while the chaplain talks about my father, sprinkling a few bible quotes in here and there before the family tosses their final roses and handfuls of dirt on top of his casket.

I shudder when it’s finally over and my father is laid to rest. I stare at the fresh flowers left on his grave—an abundance of white lilies—his and my mother’s favorites. My eyes are puffy from crying, and I have a headache, but Anton has been my rock, my comfort, my everything, through it all. He stands beside me, his hand resting on the small of my back.

“They had lilies at their wedding,” I tell him in a low voice.

“Your parents?”

I nod slowly. “I saw the photos in the family album when I was a kid. A sea of white lilies. My mother seemed lost among them in her white bridal dress.”

“Maria was a beautiful woman. I doubt the lilies outshone her that day.”

“You remember her?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Bits and pieces, really. But yeah, I remember her. Maria’s passing sent a shockwave through the Bratva families. I know Ivan loved her deeply. How’s your stepsister doing?” he asks after planting a kiss on my temple.

I look around and spot Ciara bidding a few people goodbye—members of the Fedorov family who came to pay their respects. My stomach churns as our gazes lock, and I can see the fear and anger in her eyes. “I’m not sure. Ever since Dad died, it’s like Sergei took over the Donovan family. We barely said two words to each other at the wake. Every call I’ve made to the house has been rejected. I was told to leave a message.”

“He’s hovering, even now,” Anton mutters.

We watch as he shakes hands and smiles at the dwindling guests. The leaders of the Russian dynasties, to be specific. He looks confident and downright perky, but whenever Ciara looks up at him, he puts on his grieving face. I can see right through the curtain, and it sickens me.

“I’m worried about her, Anton.”

“You have every right to be, but I’m not sure there’s much you can do at this point. The cards were dealt, and she made the engagement official. They’re keeping the wedding date for next month, despite having just buried your father,” he says.

Andrei and Laura join us.

“How are you holding up?” Laura asks me, gently giving my arm a squeeze.

“I’m doing okay. Better than I thought I’d be, but then again, I’ve got you all keeping me sane,” I reply with a timid smile.

“And your stepsister?” Andrei asks, his gaze set on Ciara and Sergei.

“I was just talking about her with Anton. You know what?” I pause, noticing how tight Sergei’s grip is on my sister’s upper arm. She winces from the pain as he pulls her away from an Irish couple, the McDowells, who stopped by to offer their condolences. “I don’t like this. I can’t just stand by.”

“Eileen, wait,” Anton tries to stop me, but it’s too late.

I dash across the clearing, cautiously stepping between the headstones as I make my way over to the area where they’re standing, near the section where the chaplain held our father’s service. Ronan’s portrait still sits there, surrounded by flowers with white ribbons.

“I need to talk to my sister,” I tell Sergei.

He gives me a cold smirk. “Whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of me.”

“It doesn’t concern you,” I hiss.

“Eileen, there are still people here,” Ciara whispers. “Now isn’t the time for a scene.”

“I’m not trying to make a scene, I’m just trying to talk to you,” I shoot back.

Sergei steps between us, but all that does is piss me off. “You’re out of line, Eileen. Ronan is gone, and you’re not the head of the Donovan family. Ciara is.”

“Good. In that case, I want Ciara to tell me whether we can talk or not.”

“Clearly, she doesn’t wish to be bothered right now.”

My blood boils and I look at my stepsister again. My heart breaks as I catch a flicker of fear in her eyes, but she shakes her head, trying to play it cool.

“It’s not a good time, Eileen. I’d like to be left alone so I can thank the remaining guests and then go home to grieve.”

“We need to talk about what’s going on here, Ciara.”

Sergei scoffs, firm and defiant in his position, determined to bring out the worst in me. “And what is going on here, Mrs. Karpova?”

“You are not yet married, therefore, you have zero say in my family’s affairs. I suggest you back the fuck off and let me talk to Ciara.”

“Eileen, shut up!” Ciara bursts into tears. “Just leave it alone!”

“No.”

“I’ll have you escorted off the grounds,” Sergei hisses.

“I would love to see you try,” Anton interjects.

I glance over my shoulder to see him approaching, Andrei and several of our bodyguards with him. As if summoned, other members of the Bratva begin to approach as well, along with plenty of the Donovan and related Irish families. They’re all curious, concerned, and ready to take this to the next level if needed.

“Anton, I don’t know what sort of agreement you thought you had with Mr. Donovan, but it is no longer in effect. The Donovans have pledged their full support for the Kuznetsov family, for me, specifically,” Sergei declares, loud enough for everyone to hear. “And your wife is being a nuisance to mine.”

“It’s my father’s funeral, you utterly disgusting prick, and Ciara isn’t your wife yet. So, take it down a notch. You don’t own the Donovans!” I hiss.

“Oh, but I do. And Ciara can confirm,” he says, widening his eyes, his inner psychopath shining through.

“What do you mean?” Andrei asks.

Ciara averts her gaze, her cheeks blushing red with shame.

My stomach drops and I’m damn near breathless. “Ciara, what did you do?”

Sergei’s smug smile speaks volumes. Paul Mattis, his business partner, snakes his way into the conversation, pulling out a document from his inner suit jacket pocket. I immediately notice what appears to be Ciara and Dad’s signatures on it. I can feel my knees caving in as I read the top line.

“Fiduciary powers,” I mutter.

“That’s right. Ronan decided to hand the reins over to me with his dying breath, and Ciara agreed,” Sergei replies.

Paul nods, a disgusting grin on his face. “I bore witness, and it was notarized accordingly.”

“Dad would never do that. Ciara, what the hell did you do?”

My knees give out, but Anton holds me close and snatches the paper from Paul’s hand. “This doesn’t look like Ronan’s signature,” he says.

“Challenge it in court, if you have the balls,” Paul sneers.

“Until then, I’m in charge of the Donovan businesses as a trusted fiduciary. And I’m also Ciara’s fiancé, which fully legitimizes me to tell you all to fuck off, so she can grieve in peace. These past few days have been hard on her,” Sergei says.

Andrei shakes his head. “Seriously, Sergei? This is what you’ve resorted to? Fraud? Manipulation? What do you have on the poor girl to have subdued her like this?”

“She loves me.”

“Bullshit,” I reply and look at Ciara. “Tell me you didn’t agree to this.”

“I did,” she hesitantly replies. “And you need to accept it. Dad’s gone. Somebody needed to take over.”

“Yeah, you! That was the plan! That’s always been the plan. It’s the only reason I backed away, because I trusted you to take over!”

“I’m going to be a Kuznetsov wife. My children will lead the Donovan family when they come of age. Until then, Sergei is in charge.”

“Spoken like a true puppet,” Andrei says.

Sergei takes a step forward. “Mind your tongue, Andrei. Soon enough, you’ll be answering to me.”

“Eileen can still contest this garbage,” Anton cuts in. “Technically speaking, she’s very much at the top of Ronan’s last will and testament.”

“Not anymore. I had the old man add an addendum there, as well,” Sergei says. “Again, good luck fighting us in court.”

“We’ll see you in the streets,” Andrei growls.

Anton firmly pushes him back. “Don’t. Not here, not now.”

“What is the meaning of this?” the chaplain intervenes, red-faced and furious. “A man was just laid to rest less than twenty feet away! Show some respect!”

I know Chaplain Carter. He’s buried his share of Donovans, Fedorovs, and Kuznetsovs, as well as others from Chicago’s most dangerous and powerful families. He knows where this discussion will lead if he doesn’t put a lid on it. He’s got his sacred collar to shield him, though. Nobody’s going to touch him.

“He’s right,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I can’t take my eyes off Ciara, though. That’s not my sister anymore. Something happened between the day we reconnected and the morning I got the news about Dad’s passing from Paddy. I know Sergei is at the center of all of it. “We can’t do this here.”

“We’ll do it another time, don’t worry,” Sasha Popov cuts in. He’s Oleg’s son, and he’s a fierce supporter of the Karpovs. “Sergei just declared war.”

“I didn’t declare anything; I merely stated my intentions,” Kuznetsov bluntly replies. “And you’d do well to think twice before you pick the losing side. There is more support behind me than there is behind your precious Karpovs.”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” I warn him.

He gives me a hard look. “A woman in your condition should be careful of her words.”

“Keep threatening my wife, Sergei, and I might have to apologize to the good chaplain here for what’s going to happen next,” Anton growls.

“Gentlemen, please,” Chaplain Carter insists. “This is holy ground.”

Sergei nods curtly, motioning for Paul and Ciara to follow him. “Come on, we’ve got a funeral dinner to attend.” He pauses to point at me. “You’re uninvited. All of the Karpovs, too.”

Ciara tries to change his mind. “Sergei, darling, she’s still his daughter.”

“Did I stutter?”

She stills, her face pale, then nods once and follows him down the stone path leading back to the eastern gate. I watch as my stepsister walks away, helpless and quiet. The life I knew was falling apart, crumbling around me in the clutches of Sergei’s evil hand.

Murmurs erupt behind us. Concerns about Kuznetsov and the threats that were made. I can’t really focus on any of it, though. I just buried my father and lost my stepsister in the span of an hour, and I don’t know how to deal with any of it.

“Ciara fucked up,” Anton tells me, keeping his voice low while Andrei speaks to the others. They’re understandably startled and worried. I am, too. “But I don’t think your father signed that document. Or at least, he wasn’t of sound mind when he signed it. He may have been ill, but he wasn’t stupid.”

“I know.”

“He never would’ve handed the Donovan businesses over to Sergei.”

“He still wanted me to be involved. That was part of the reason why he insisted that we get married, aside from the obvious,” I rub at my baby bump. “He trusted you to help steer the businesses in a better direction. Dad didn’t trust Sergei. Not very much, anyway. Then again, that could’ve changed in the months that we didn’t see each other. I’m just not sure anymore, Anton. I can’t believe any of this is happening.”

He takes me in his arms. I find comfort in his embrace, as always, but this time, I don’t think it’s enough to keep my head above water.

“We’ll figure it out, Eileen. Whatever Ciara did, we can fight it in court.”

“Paul Mattis all but begged you to do exactly that. They must have some ace up their sleeve. I’m guessing it’s that addendum to my father’s will.”

He thinks about it for a moment. “Let’s go home, baby. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it, but you need to get some rest first.”

It sounds encouraging enough, but judging by the look of concern on Andrei’s face, I worry that trouble is just getting started. My dad always used to say that it gets worse before it gets better.

Oh, Ciara, you proud and foolish girl, how could you do this?