Author's P. O. V
"You have some nerve Sidorov, threatening me like this." The head of the Russian Mafia, Volkov spat out, with annoyance in his eyes. His expression was a sharp contrast to the grin planted on Sidorov's face.
"I wouldn't have resorted to doing this had you just forced your grandson into the wedding. It almost sounds like you want to cut me off completely from Bratva." He said, playing with the wine in his glass.
The old man hissed, "I didn't expect him to bring back a man. What the hell was he thinking?! Who is he trying to dishonour?"
Sidorov narrowed his eyes, "Can you really say you didn't expect that?" He asked, hitting a delicate nerve.
"I told you to never bring up the past, especially with that bitch daughter of mine. We swore to keep it hidden, but it seems our oath means nothing to you." He got up from his wheelchair and walked about his room, showing off how well he was.
