Chapter 143
Elena’s POV:
My heart pounded against my ribs. “Is… Mom with you, Flona? Please tell me she’s not there.” I was dreading her next words.
But then Fiona’s voice came through. “Aunty? No, Elena. She isn’t. I just took her car in a hurry. I saw the location you sent, and it looked like
you were way out in the middle of nowhere, so I just… I panicked, okay?!”
Then she demanded, “Elenal At least tell me you’re okay! These guards here are like brick walls, and they won’t let me through! What is this place?!” I heard the distinct sound of a man shouting in rapid Russian in the background, followed by Fiona’s indignant squawk, and a cold chill ran up my spine, remembering Sergei’s earlier words about his security.
“I’m alright, Fiona. I’m perfectly fine. Just… don’t fight the guards, okay? I’m coming down right now.” I said, trying to inject as much calm into my voice as possible, hoping to soothe her agitated state. She was obviously beyond furious, but damn… I hadn’t expected her to actually come all the way here for me.
To be honest, despite the terrifying circumstances, I felt a strange, unexpected warmth spread through me.
“You better hurry, Elena! I am about to take my boot off and smack this guy’s head otherwise!” Fiona threatened, her voice filled with a desperate, almost comical bravado, and I snapped myself out of my reverie.
“No! No, Fiona. Don’t you dare! I’m coming, okay? Just calm down!”
I quickly turned around, not cutting the call, but muting it to ensure she didn’t do anything truly stupid that would escalate the situation further, I then ran back into Sergei’s office, my gaze immediately finding him.
“Tneed to leave. Now,” I said, my voice urgent, grabbing my bag from the table. He frowned, getting up from his chair and walking towards the large windows, his gaze sweeping over the sprawling grounds. He could probably see the cherry–red car, and Fiona’s agitated figure pacing beside it.
Then he looked back at me. “Should I go ahead then, Elena? Submit the documents? Or would you like to do it yourself?” He asked.
I pursed my lips, a flicker of hesitation. My ultimate goal wasn’t fame or public reverence; it was simply justice for Mielle and getting Dmitri behind bars. The anonymous route was the safest.
I pulled the strap of my bag over my shoulder, then paused, my fingers tightening around the fabric. My heart skipped a beat as I looked at Sergei, who was now tilting his lips up slightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible quirk that was probably meant to be a smile.
And I couldn’t help but let out a breathy, almost disbelieving laugh. “You… you really should learn how to smile properly, Mr. Morozov,” I said, the words escaping before I could stop them. His expression froze, the subtle quirk of his lips vanishing instantly.
I turned around then, my neck heating up with a sudden flush of embarrassment, “Thank you for all of this, Mr. Morozov. For the information.
For the… car. For everything.”
“You’re welcome back any time… Dochenka.” He said, his voice softer now, a hint of genuine affection in his tone. And this time… I didn’t refute the endearment. I simply nodded as I opened the office door and pulled it closed behind me with a soft click.
My chest felt a little full, a strange mix of emotions swirling within me. The anxiety of everything I had learned through the documents, the bank statements, the chilling video and audio files, hadn’t left me entirely. It had just been pushed softly to the back of my mind, overshadowed by the immediate urgency of Fiona’s unexpected arrival. ^
Sergei Morozov. Was becoming too soft? Too easily swayed by acts of kindness, however self–serving they might ultimately be?
I was undeniably grateful for everything he had done. He had no obligation to help me. And I had already made it abundantly clear that I,
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12:56 Tue, 5 Aug
Chapter 143
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wasn’t going to give him jack shit in return, no familial connection, no easy forgiveness. But he had still done all this… was it truly just to get close to me? To bond with his long–lost daughter, to atone for some past sin?
What if it wasn’t? What if he also harbored a deep–seated agenda against the Vetrovs? What if he was simply using me as a convenient excuse, basically killing two birds with one stone? The thought was unsettling, but entirely plausible.
I shook my head, sighing softly as I stepped out of the elevator and into the grand Foyer,
But then I froze, my heart dropping instantly, and my expression changed to a scowl as my eyes landed on the man standing directly in front
of me.
“What do you want, Lazar?” I asked, my voice laced with a disgust I made no attempt to hide. He was standing with his back leaning casually against the wall, his hands tucked into his pockets, his posture radiating arrogance.
Pushing off the wall, he stepped forward, his green eyes fixed on me, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. “Is this how far your morals have fallen, Elena?” He asked, his voice low.
“What are you talking about, Lazar?” I questioned, though a terrible premonition had already begun to form in my mind.
“Your morals, Elena… Have you forgotten them already? So quickly?” He questioned, his gaze piercing, and I stiffened, my jaw clenching.
Of course, I hadn’t forgotten them. He was taunting me, wasn’t he?
I quirked my lips, a bitter, humorless smile. “My morals are still perfectly intact, Lazar. It’s yours that I now clearly see. Oh, wait… I don’t. Because you don’t have any.” I said, my voice dripping with contempt. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be standing in front of me so shamelessly after everything that you did to Mielle.” I gritted out, my anger flaring anew.
His fake smile dropped instantly, replaced by a cold, hard glare that sent a chill running up my spine. He took a step closer, until we were standing face to face, his presence looming over me. He slowly moved his hand forward, intending to push a stray bang of hair behind my ear. But I reacted instantly, slapping his hand away with a sharp, resounding crack that echoed in the grand foyer.
“What are you going to do about it then, Elena? Go complain to daddy?” He scoffed, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement, clearly referring to Sergei. “You were so high and mighty back then, weren’t you? Remember what you’d said? ‘I’m supposed to sell myself to Sergei Morozov now? Let him use me to redeem his sins?“” He quoted my words exactly, the memory of my own angry outburst twisting in my gut. I
clenched my fists.
“What?” I retorted, my voice sharp. “Are you jealous? Is that it? Jealous that our father is willing to go so far for me, someone he hasn’t seen in twenty–five years, someone he barely knows, while he isn’t even willing to claim you as his son? Is that what this is about?” I taunted.
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