"What about her?" Angela hesitantly asked. Since yesterday, she had been curious about the woman and how Gael knew her. How she got involved with the Russian mafia. How she even ended up here in the first place.

But then today, she got into thinking more about her mother—perks of being all alone the whole day while Gael was out as usual. However, she started to believe that maybe she didn't want to know. That maybe knowing more about the woman who abandoned her would just cause more unnecessary drama. That maybe knowing wouldn't answer her life-long questions but instead only create more.

"Hold on." Gael disappeared into his office for a minute, and when he came back, he had a paper with something printed on it. He gave it to her, and she gingerly received it.

"What's this?" She furrowed her brows as she studied the file. It was some sort of biodata of a person named Evgenia Volkov. It had other names listed under it—most were Russian. And the only other name she recognized was "Ivanovich Volkov".

"That's your mother," said Gael. "Her real name is Evgenia."

Angela felt like her heart sank to her stomach. "It's not…Cynthia?" She didn't even know her mother's real name? Betrayal and pain seized her again, and she was slowly creeping back into the darkness, gloomy clouds hovering above her. Just how many more times did she have to feel this way when it came to that woman?

A warm hand rested on top of hers, giving her a gentle squeeze, and she looked up to Gael. It was pretty apparent that he didn't want to have this conversation more than she did, but just like what he said, they needed to talk about her.

"Yeah. There's not much we know about her, though. Usually, we'd have at least one photo of the person we keep on file, but your mother's identity isn't exactly accessible. Apart from the common knowledge that's available for the public, the rest is sealed."

She looked down at the photo again, then her brows knitted together at a particular section. "Matvey… That's her father? Why is there no mother listed here? I knew my mom was an orphan."

"I'm sorry, babe. She isn't. At least… I know that No—" He cleared his throat. "Matvey is her father. He got one of his mistresses pregnant—Cynthia's mother. I don't know who's her mother, and although Matvey doesn't admit it, it's obvious that Cynthia's mother isn't Matvey's wife. There's just no resemblance at all, and Cynthia was born before Matvey married his wife. But Cynthia grew up in his care."

"This is crazy. I have a grandfather…possibly a grandmother I don't know where. And a whole buttload of family members I don't know about." Angela softly scoffed as she tried to wrap her head around it. "All this time… I thought she had no parents. Now that I think about it, my dad's parents weren't very close to my mom. They gave her stares like she…like she didn't belong there or something."

"I think she lied about who she was to them because of her background. Though… I'm curious if your father knew anything."

Her eyes snapped at him. "He couldn't…could he?"

"I have a feeling he did." Gael pointed at Ivan's name on the paper and continued, "The man you saw back then. Ivanovich Volkov. He's one of the high-ranking members, but he's not based in New York. The bratva's organization isn't like ours. The Italians move as a family—not everyone is blood-related, but we're a family and follow a hierarchy. The bratva, however, is a brotherhood with an amorphous structure."

He shook his head, not wanting to confuse her, and then he added, "Anyway. I've met Volkov a few times before, but Cynthia…only once before the other night. They live in Boston—whereas your grandfather lives in Brooklyn—which is why we don't see the Volkovs often."

"So… How do you know my mother? You called her Mrs. Volkov that night."

"I didn't realize who she was until then. We weren't really introduced to each other, but there was one event about ten years ago. It was a Russian wedding, and she was there with her husband. We knew Volkov before that, but that was the only time I saw your mother. He doesn't bring her to events unless it's an important family occasion."

"She knows you."

"I resemble my father. Maybe that's how she knew who I was. I don't know. We didn't have reasons to dig deep into her and Volkov since we didn't do business with them. And we stayed away from each other unless necessary."

Angela began to look like she had enough of the subject, sighing as she leaned back. "I still don't get how she was with my father and had Oliver and me."

Pulling her to his chest, Gael tried to soothe her by gently massaging her head with his fingers. "I don't know how your father came into the picture, but we heard rumors."

"What rumors?"

"About three decades ago, Matvey's daughter escaped, and he searched for her for a very long time. Eventually, she came back and got married to Volkov as originally planned. She seemed to have escaped her fate, only to fall back into it later. We thought it must be why Volkov is keeping a tight leash on her now."

Angela didn't respond. She tried to understand her mother's situation, and she didn't know if she should feel sorry for her. But there was this dull ache inside that throbbed just a little as if coaxing her to feel something.

When she remained quiet, Gael told her, "She was there last night… Your mother."

She straightened and looked up at him, her eyes laced with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"At the…party. The event I went to before I joined you at the club. It was a social gathering of people we had business with."

"You saw my mother?" Her brows drew together, her voice turning slightly accusatory.

He nodded and told her about their short exchange at the bar where Cynthia practically begged him to keep Angela out.

Angela was exasperated at everything she learned tonight. "I have a sister." She scoffed. "And my mother is adamant in me being as far away as possible. How lovely."

Gael paused as he contemplated his next words. He didn't want to give her a rise. "I can understand her, you know… She doesn't want you to have the same fate as hers."

The crease between her brows deepened as though she couldn't believe that he was taking her mother's side. "It's my choice who I want to be with."

Couldn't he see it? She wanted to be with him.

"That's not what I mean, baby. You're not getting it."

"What am I not getting?" She grew annoyed.

He pointed at someone's name on the paper again. "Matvey Novikov… Your grandfather is a ruthless man. He uses people as he pleases. Your mother's marriage happened to strengthen ties between the Novikovs and the Volkovs with whom they do business. It's highly likely that your half-sister will get married soon into another Russian family like we've heard from the grapevine recently. If he knows he has another granddaughter… If he finds out about you…"

Gael didn't finish his words, but it was evident where he was getting at. And she was pissed. Not at him but at the situation. "But I didn't even grow up with them. I don't know them!"

"It doesn't matter. Objectively speaking, you're a member of the Novikov family. And your grandfather will get whatever he wants one way or the other."

Angela's face grew red. "This is ridiculous! I'm a Su. I'm my father's daughter—not Cynthia's. I stopped being her daughter or that man's granddaughter a long time ago when she abandoned us. I'm not even from this state."

"True." He sighed, rubbing his forehead before he looked at her again. He didn't want to have this conversation, but Angela needed to know her real identity. Knowing that he couldn't keep this part of the truth from her, Gael decided to tell her. "But you're also the Pakhan's granddaughter—just like your half-sister."

"What does that even mean? What the hell is a Pakhan?"

"It's the bratva's leader. Matvey Novikov is the Pakhan—their boss. And the Pakhan's family is royalty. You have Novikov's blood in your veins, Angel. You're… You're a bratva princess."