Chapter 517 – The Novikovs (4)

Several minutes ago at The Bunk…

“We should’ve handled that old fart a long time ago,” Giovanni bit out as he strapped on a bulletproof vest just like the rest of the De Luca soldiers, including Alessandro.

“You know as well as I do that we don’t just kill people—especially not if that someone is high profile. If you killed Matvey then, you wouldn’t have been a hero. You would be a murderer. You wouldn’t have been defending the family because Matvey hasn’t done any harm. And that’s not you. That’s not us.”

“We’ve just lost men not too long ago. Not long enough for me to forget how they look. I can still see their faces when I come here, San. And now this!”

Alessandro straightened up and walked over to Giovanni, staring him straight in the eyes. “When are you going to stop blaming yourself for what happened? We knew Filippo was coming and we prepared for that. But no matter how much preparation we could’ve done, if a thief is so determined to rob a house just like a killer is to end someone’s life, they would find a way until they get what they want. Things happened. But this is not on you. This is on me for not being better.”

Not knowing what to say, Giovanni could only stare back at his brother.

Alessandro placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “You’ve had your revenge on the Ukrainians. The others will hear about it and that will take care of business. But this with Novikov… This is personal because of Angela. She’s family and we’re going to bring them back. Both of them.”

Giovanni grabbed two handguns and handed them over to Alessandro. “After this shit, I’m cleaning out the streets. I’m bringing Sebastian in and you’re not stopping us.”

A small smile lifted at the corner of Alessandro’s lips. “Father would’ve been proud of you. He always wanted to give you his seat, you know?” Giovanni’s brows furrowed in confusion but before he could ask further, Alessandro called out his men. “Let’s move out!”

***

Angela’s thoughts ran a thousand miles a minute as she stared wide-eyed at her mother and Matvey Novikov. Did she hear that correctly? Her mother poisoned the tea? But Angela swore that Cynthia also drank the same tea! How was that possible? She wouldn’t poison herself too, would she?

There were only two guards inside the dining room while the others were outside, blocking the gates for the De Lucas. One of the guards standing by the door rushed towards Matvey in a panic, speaking fast in Russian. He seemed to be the Pakhan’s closest guard. Angela recognized the other guard. He was the same one who met them outside the restaurant the first time Cynthia asked to see Angela.

Cynthia’s guard strode towards the table in a flash and the next second, he trained a gun at the other guard helping their Pakhan. He squeezed the trigger, shooting the other on the side of the head, blood splattered and Matvey’s guard fell on the floor in a loud thud.

Anika shrieked and Aleksander immediately covered her head protectively. Gael and Angela shot up from their seats and he instinctively placed his body in front of Angela.

Gunshots began firing outside. Angela and Gael glanced at the screen just when Alessandro pulled the trigger in succession, killing two Bratva soldiers at the gate. Then Giovanni and their soldiers shoot their way inside.

Matvey Novikov wheezed, clawing at the table desperately. “Ty neblagodarnaya suchka!” (You ungrateful bitch!) he snapped at his daughter.

“No, father,” Cynthia wiped her lips with the table napkin ever so casually. “This is my thanks to you. How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine? Now at least you know how my mother felt when you killed her just like this.”

Angela gasped. All of the revelations got her head spinning. Her mind reeled, witnessing the scene before her.

Matvey Novikov’s eyes went wide as he clutched his chest tightly. His mouth opened as if he wanted to yell something but then he groaned, the sound seemed too painful to hear. And then the old man slumped forward, his face falling on his plate, the chinaware clanging, making the girls jump.

Oh god. Angela never expected this would happen at all. Her mother just killed her father!

Just this morning, Angela planned to go back to Mayne—both she and Gael thinking she needed the break after everything they experienced. But here she was, at the Bratva’s estate, witnessing yet another death—deaths. And by her mother! What the hell?!

“Mom!!!” Anika gasped, her face filled with horror as she stared at the head of the table. “What… What did you do… Dedushka… Oh my god…”

Cynthia let out a sigh. “He had it coming.”

“H-How could… He’s… He was your father…” Angela muttered. She knew now what kind of person her grandfather was. But to actually kill one’s father?

“He was never a father to me. He was only ever interested in himself. His wealth. His possessions. His business. His power. He’s a classic Russian dictator. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s actually related to Stalin at all.”

“So you killed him?”

Cynthia shifted her stare to Angela, her eyes softening as she said, “It was him or you, Sweetheart.”

Angela drew her brows together, her eyes bouncing between the old man and her mother.

Cynthia got to her feet, neatly pushing her chair under the table as if by habit. “The moment you entered those gates, Kylie, you were never coming out of here.” She glanced at Gael and then at Angela’s finger. “Your fiancé might, but you heard my father. He wants Gael to run his drug operations here in Queens. First, he’ll ask him to triple his profits. Next, he’ll ask for more. And then it will be an expansion.” She looked at Gael again. “You and I both know it will never end.”

Just like Gael thought, agreeing to Novikov would’ve meant selling his soul to the Bratva.

“Kylie…” Cynthia let out a sigh. “I did not walk away from you, your brother, and your father that day just to have you imprisoned here by him. I’ve sacrificed too many. I don’t want this life for you… All of you.” She looked at every one of her children. “For twenty years, I’ve pictured this day. But I didn’t wish for you to see it.

“When I found out he’d sent his men to you, I knew it had to be today. I didn’t expect them to get you here early. Your grandfather could’ve had his tea first and you wouldn’t have had the displeasure of meeting him. We could’ve avoided all of this.”

Angela swallowed. “But… I saw you drink your tea. How… Are you?”

“No.” Cynthia picked up the teapot. “For many years, I’ve always served his tea whenever I’m around. I always think to myself… Is it today?” She softly scoffed. “No one would ever suspect that one day, it would kill him. I only ever got to use this today, though. This is an assassin’s teapot. It has two chambers to hold liquid. One with regular tea while the other…for my dear old father.”

Gael had seen this kind of teapot before. Though the one he saw had a different design, surely, they functioned the same. The teapots had holes strategically placed around the handle that when covered, a certain chamber would open and then close another. That was how a poisoned drink would be served.

A loud bang pulled everyone’s attention to the double doors and then Alessandro and Giovanni strode inside, their guns trained at Cynthia and his guard.

Cynthia’s guard swiftly placed himself in front of her, his gun pointed at the De Luca brothers.

Alessandro scanned the room, taking in Gael and Angela by the wall, Cynthia’s kids at the table, pale and sweating. And then his eyes landed on Matvey Novikov slumped over the table. He narrowed his eyes. “Is he…”

“Yes. The Pakhan is dead,” Cynthia answered.

“Who?”

Who killed him?

Cynthia didn’t respond to that question. Instead, she lifted her chin and told her guard, “Igor, lower your weapon. We don’t point our guns to our guests.”

Igor hesitated but followed instructions. Alessandro and Giovanni also put their guns down.

Addressing the De Luca men, Cynthia said, “Shall we move to the study?” Then she turned towards Anika and Aleksander.. “Why don’t you go upstairs? And Anika, can you show your sister, Kylie, your room? I need to talk to these gentlemen.”