“It’s all ready,” Dima said. “One click, and there’s no going back. An official investigation will begin. Frozen accounts, searches—it’s the end for them. Andrei Nikolaevich, Kira, are you ready?”
I nodded firmly, but my father was silent. He stared at the screen, a complex range of emotions on his face. “Dima,” he began hesitantly, “maybe this is enough? They’re already scared, the press is tearing them apart. Maybe we just take back what’s ours and let them be? If we send this, we’ll be putting them in prison. For a long time!”
I looked at him in surprise. “Dad, are you serious? After everything they’ve done? They wanted to destroy you, ruin you, drag you through the mud!” “I know, sweetheart,” he sighed heavily, “but I… I’m not like him. I’ve never wanted to put anyone in prison. We’ll get the business back, we’ve already won. Why finish them off?”
In that moment, I understood the difference between my father and Igor Belozerov. My father, even after being betrayed, had held onto his humanity. But it was precisely that humanity that could ruin everything now. “Dad,” I took his hand, my voice firm, “listen to me. They wouldn’t have spared you, not for a second. If their plan had succeeded, you’d be sitting here with millions in debt, without a business, without a reputation. They would have trampled us and moved on to find a new victim. People like them don’t stop. They don’t understand magnanimity; they see it as weakness. If we let them go now, they’ll lie low, and then they’ll strike again, even harder and more viciously. Do you want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next blow?”
I looked him in the eyes without blinking. “This isn’t revenge. This is justice and safety. Our safety. They have to answer for what they’ve done. According to the law.”
My father looked at me for a long time, then at Dmitry, then back at the screen. The last of his doubts faded from his eyes. He slowly nodded. “You’re right, sweetheart. You’re completely right.” I turned to Dmitry. “Dima, send it.” He said nothing, just silently moved the mouse cursor to the ‘Send’ button and clicked it. The click of the mouse sounded deafeningly loud in the quiet office. “That’s it,” he said, closing the laptop. “It’s out of our hands now…”
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