Chapter 39: Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Give me the file, Gen,” Frankie demanded, holding his hand out.

Geneveive’s mouth fell open and she looked first to Gloria and then over Frankie’s shoulder. “I…”

“Dammit, Weakness,” Matteo growled behind Frankie.

Geneveive immediately became defensive. She placed her hands on her hips and straightened her spine. She was clearly less afraid of her husband, the mafia man known for killing her exes, than his second, who continued to glare at her from the open doorway.

“You said we could give it to her. It’s her contract, Matteo,” Gen argued.

“I did say we could give it to her… after our trip,” he responded, exacerbated, as if they’d had this conversation thirty times over.

Frankie continued to hold his hand out. “Give me the file, Gloria,” he said, taking a different tactic. Gloria looked to Gen. “Don’t look at her. Look at me. Do as I say.”

Before she could, Gen snatched the file and took a few steps back. Frankie growled and stalked forward. His advance was stalled when Matteo caught him by the arm and slung him back against the wall. He kept pressure on Frankie’s wrist and shoulder, making it difficult for him to move… Difficult, not impossible. Frankie brought back his left elbow. He heard a large exhale of air but his little stunt did little to move the man he was forced to hold back on. Frankie pushed against the wall and managed to land a few blows with his elbow and at least get himself turned around before a knife pressed against the soft skin of his throat, drawing blood. Frankie sneered at his boss.

“Let go of me,” he hissed.

Matteo shook his head. “I can’t let you read it, Frank.”

“I have a right to…”

“Enough!” Gloria shrieked, drawing everyone’s attention. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Enough of this.” She walked to Gen and gestured for the file. Gen reluctantly handed it over. “This is my file. My life,” she hissed. She walked over to the two men still grappling for dominance against the wall. She looked up at Matteo, her eyes narrowed. “Let him go.” The command was sharp, uncompromising. It made him rock hard. Matteo looked at Frankie and released him with a final shove. Frankie took the file and looked down at it with a furrowed brow as he tested the weight of it in his hand.

Frankie reached up and cupped her cheek. “Thank you, Vixen.”

“Just…” She took a deep breath as Matteo moved to his wife across the room. “Just remember when you read it that I’m here. I’m fine now. I’m safe. Okay? I can’t have you running off in a vigilante-style killing spree leaving me vulnerable.”

Frankie traced his thumb across her cheek. “I only want to read it so…”

“I know,” she interrupted.

Frankie looked up at Matteo who stood behind Gen with his hands on her shoulders. “I’d like to read it without you hovering over me.”

“I’ll send for Leo,” Matteo said, guiding Gen out of the room.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” Frankie growled.

Matteo ignored him and continued out of the room.

Gloria sighed. “I’ll go out with them, I guess. Just… just remember I need you to not go running off.”

Frankie lifted her chin so she would be forced to meet his gaze. “Is it as bad as Accardi is making it seem or does everyone think I’m a bit oversensitive?”

She smiled, stood on her toes and kissed him softly once. “Maybe both. I’ll be outside.”

Gloria turned and walked out. Frankie took a deep breath and looked down at the folder he now held in both hands. He strode to Matteo’s desk and let the folder fall to the surface. Frankie shoved the other case files out of the way as he took a seat.

‘Gloria Rubanov Contracted to Sergei Vasiliev’

Frankie sighed and started reading. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first. The contract detailed how the Vaseliev heir would marry the only Rubanov heir once she turned eighteen. With her marriage she would bring the entirety of the Rubanov crime family from men, contacts, stocks, properties, and inventory to more personal items such as family jewels, art, vehicles… The works. It was clear Ivan Rubanov was preparing to get out of the crime world and throw it all on Gloria’s shoulders… so her husband could reap all the benefits.

The next ten pages detailed the process of the wedding and the transferring of all assets. Ivan would have six months to transition his entire life over to Vasiliev. Everything was negotiated to the last cent. While he read this section he heard the door open and the soft rustling of clothes. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Leo. He knew the man would station himself by the door in case Frankie went nuclear and he needed to stand between the radioactive fallout and the couple out in the living room.

Frankie, not seeing anything particularly vigilante killing spree inducing in the first section, moved on to the next. He felt his stomach turn as the twelve-page section detailed how Gloria was expected to act as a wife. He skipped ahead, noting there was no section indicating how Sergei should act as a husband. He shook his head as he went back and skimmed through her requirements. Each item ticked his frustration higher and higher, edging him closer to anger.

Every detail mattered to the Vasilievs. From her weight, the makeup she used, the style of shoe she wore down to the minimum height of its heel, the length of her hair, how often she was to get waxed. There was even a stipulation detailing how her bust-size must meet a certain measurement by eighteen or she would be required to have enhancement surgery. Her clothes would be selected by Sergei, their vacations decided by him, their dinners, their…

Frankie growled at the first line that described how she was expected to perform in the bedroom, a minimum five times per week requirement. The fucker also wanted her to take a yearly class to stay up to date on positions and what she can do to please her man. There was also the fine print stipulation saying he could sleep with whoever he wanted… and he could dictate who she slept with. Even as a teen, Vasiliev was preparing to have his lover involved in his marriage. Frankie’s knee bounced under the table, knocking into it every few seconds or so.

“I suggest you move on,” Leo argued from his place in the room.

“I suggest you leave me the fuck alone,” Frankie snapped.

“Alrighty.”

Frankie did as the old-timer recommended… though it didn’t help his mood. He skimmed through the section describing future children and how they would be raised. How if Gloria couldn’t conceive, Sergei could find himself a mistress… or several, to help procreate. He flipped through the section of her income, career opportunities or lack thereof, education and what would happen to the contract if she were to die unexpectedly. All in all the contract was nearly seventy-five pages and he’d barely scratched the surface. Then the contract was finished: signed, dated. But there were still documents. Most prominent was a second blue folder with a worn label: Medical Documentation and Legal Authenticity.

This folder was thicker. Odd. Gloria seemed to be an incredibly healthy woman. He hadn’t noticed any chronic conditions. She’d received many cuts and bruises over the last week and she healed well. Had something happened to her that caused her to be hospitalized? Did she have a chronic illness she was good at hiding from him? He opened the folder and read the first page. It was dated early 2019. The report looked to be like any other physical. They recorded her height, weight, BMI, physical attributes, past injuries and vaccines she’d been given. They also performed endurance testing, cognitive testing and took blood to screen for drugs and STDs… STDs? When they thought she was twelve? Seriously? An unsettling feeling situated itself in the pits of his stomach. He flipped to the next page.

This page was from a Doctor Johnson, OBGYN. He skimmed the page, expecting there to be the usual pap smear, health check mumbo jumbo but halfway down the page a particular phrase caught his attention: Virginity Testing, Visual Hymen Check. Scrawled in the doctor’s note beside it read, “Patient’s hymen appears to be fully intact. Positive verification to continue with regularly specified appointments in accordance with contract.”

Frankie stared down at the page. Hymen check? Hymen check?! He started skimming pages faster, his eyes darting through each file, his breathing ratcheting up with each printed line:

Virginity Test: Positive.

Virginity Test: Positive.

Virginity Test: Positive.

Over and over the words appeared between pages of physicals, counseling sessions reports recounting what Gloria had divulged to her therapist, plastic surgeon consultations, dermatology reports, ER visits for broken bones or suspicious injuries congruent with abuse that were swept under the rug… and that damn obstetrician.

He flipped violently back through the contract, acutely aware that Leo had gotten to his feet. Then he finally found the stipulation, buried in the pages pertaining to her wedding and the days leading up to it. There, two pages stuck together. He ripped them apart and stood as his finger slid across the words until the part that read, “In order to maintain her value and the value calculated into this contract, Miss Rubanov will maintain her virginity until her wedding to Mr. Vasiliev. To ensure the authenticity of her virginal status, her family will institute a strict three-month check of her hymen once puberty begins. The Rubanov family retains the right to choose the OBGYN to perform said procedure so long as a representative of the Vasiliev family can be in attendance and, if necessary, visually confirm the OBGYN’s findings.”

Again Frankie flipped to the medical reports and found one from the OBGYN. This one took place nearly two years ago. His finger coasted down the page until he saw the name of the man Vasiliev had sent as his witness. One Oswald Benderhoff. Oswald. The man in his apartment. The man he’d let die due to lack of fucking water!

Frankie braced his hands against the desk. He shivered violently. The wood cut into his palms. Twenty-four times. Gloria had been violated twenty-four times for something that could have broken while riding a bike or using a fucking tampon. What would they have done to her if she’d failed? If she’d gone for a run, tripped and broken the most delicate layer of protection in her body? What about the allegations of abuse? Who the fuck hurt her enough to put her in the ER? Why was the police never called? Did that fucker ever touch her? Why wasn’t her contract thrown out? How fucking quickly could Frankie find an excuse to track the OBGYN down who touched what was his? His lungs burned. He was losing feeling in his arms. He stared down at the last page of her contract. The one with the validating signatures that set his little Vixen’s future into motion. Four signatures… and one of them belonged to Accardi.