Page 76 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
If I didn’t already know the truth.
I lean back slightly in my chair, studying him.
For a moment, I say nothing.
Then I slide the laptop across the metal table toward him.
“Take a look,” I say quietly.
Sergei stares at the laptop for a moment, clearly unsure whether to humor me or continue pretending ignorance. “Boss, I don’t understand what this—”
“Look,” I repeat.
My voice is quiet.
He finally lowers his gaze.
At first, he scans the screen casually, the way a man does when he’s certain nothing there concerns him.
Then his eyes slow.
His shoulders stiffen as he scrolls.
The room becomes very still.
Sergei doesn’t breathe for several seconds.
I watch the moment the realization hits him.
The exact second the mask breaks.
His eyes flick up to mine.
For the first time since he entered the room, the confidence is gone.
“You…” he says slowly. “You’ve been watching me.”
“For a while,” I reply.
His jaw tightens. He looks back at the screen, as if hoping the evidence will somehow rearrange itself into something less damning.
But the proof is absolute.
Every file.
Every record.
Every betrayal laid out in cold detail.
“Boss…” he starts.
Then he stops.
The wordbosssounds strange coming from him now.
He looks at me again, and something shifts in his expression. The anger drains away, replaced by something far more desperate.
“Mike,” he says quietly.
