Page 62 of Her Darkest Possession

Valentina gives a harsh, brittle laugh that reminds me of glass shattering.

"And warn me all you want,synok," she says, tossing her napkin onto the table. "We both know you won't do a damn thing about it. You couldn't even pull the trigger when you made me put a gun to my own head."

I feel a chill run through me at her words. I glance at Anatoly, whose face has gone completely still. Vassily stares at his plate, refusing to look at any of us.

"You're not wrong about that, mother." Anatoly takes a slow, measured breath. "I did not have the strength to sentence you the way that you deserved to be sentenced."

Valentina sits back in her chair, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She looks like a cat that's just cornered amouse, believing she's won this particular battle of wills. Her fingers tap a victorious rhythm against the tablecloth.

But then Anatoly adds: "That's why it's not up to me."

The tapping stops. Valentina's smile freezes on her face.

Anatoly turns to me, his blue eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "It's up to her."

The silence that follows is absolute. Even the staff in the corners of the room seem to have stopped breathing. Valentina's face drains of all color as she stares at me, truly seeing me for perhaps the first time.

I feel a strange calm settle over me as all eyes turn in my direction. The power to decide Valentina's fate rests in my hands now. This woman who threatened my unborn child, who called me a whore in my own home, who constantly undermines my position as Anatoly's wife.

Valentina recovers quickly from her shock, her face morphing into a sneer.

"Her?" she asks with a mocking laugh, gesturing at me dismissively. "What would this whore know of sentencing? What does she know about what it's like to be a pakhan's wife?"

Her voice drips with condescension, but I don't rise to the bait. Instead, I meet her gaze steadily, remembering every humiliation she's heaped upon me since I arrived.

"I sentenced Grisha to death," I say quietly, my voice carrying easily in the silent room. "I watched the life leave his eyes. You don't know what I'm capable of, Valentina Ivanovna."

The use of her patronymic seems to infuriate her. Her face flushes crimson as she leans forward, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me.

"I told you never to let my name pass your filthy lips," she hisses.

I remain perfectly still, drawing strength from Anatoly's presence beside me. When I speak again, my voice is measured, controlled.

"I am your pakhan's wife," I say simply. "You should address me with the respect I'm still giving you."

Valentina's lips curl into a cruel smile. "You don't have what it takes," she hisses, her voice dripping with venom. "To sentence me to death would mean depriving my sons of their mother. Would you really do that? Would you really take me away from Tolya, Vasya, and Romochka forever?"

Her voice grows softer, almost mocking in its gentleness. "Could you live with yourself, knowing you've turned my sons into orphans?"

I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the weight of her words. The room feels impossibly still as everyone waits for my response.

"You're right," I finally say. "I wouldn't take a mother from her sons."

Valentina's face brightens with triumph. Her shoulders relax as she sits back in her chair, satisfied that she's won this battle of wills.

"In fact," I continue, my voice growing stronger, "I don't intend to."

Valentina's smile falters slightly, confusion flickering across her features.

"There is strength in mercy, Valentina Ivanovna," I say carefully. "But not all mercy is alike."

Wariness creeps onto Valentina's face now, her eyes narrowing as she realizes this isn't over.

"My judgment is this: you are exiled, Valentina Ivanovna Barysheva," I pronounce, my voice steady and clear. "You are never to set foot in any place where the Baryshev bratva operates. Neither here nor abroad."

Valentina's face drains of color, her mouth opening in shock.

"You will be allowed to keep your money," I continue, "just enough so that you will not lack any creature comforts. But your words will never carry any weight again."