“Trofim didn’t even know they existed. I had them installed without his knowledge.” He lifts his chin. “You may have tossed your brother to the wolves, but I wanted to keep an eye on him.”
“Then where were you six f*****g years ago? If you had these tapes, then you knew Trofim was dead. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know he was dead,” he argues. “I thought he fell off the map, which was understandable after you embarrassed him so publicly. I didn’t remember the cameras and dig up the tapes until I heard he was gone.”
“Who told you?” I ask.
“Not you,” he says through gritted teeth. “I may not be pakhan, but I’m still your father. I’m Trofim’s father. I deserved to know he died, and you kept it from me.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t have time for his sob story. Especially when I’m
