Bound by lies Trapped by Desire novel Chapter 132

Chapter 132

Chapter 132

Elena’s POV:

Sergei Morozov seemed to go completely silent for a long, drawn–out moment, the only sound on the other end of the line

the faint crackle of static.

Then, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement, finally broke the stillness. “Well, well, Elena. I honestly didn’t think you’d call so fast. I guess I underestimated you, dochenka. But then again, you are my daughter, aren’t you?”

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, resisting the urge to snap back at his tone. The man was infuriatingly arrogant, even in this brief phone call.

“Please, just get straight to the point, Mr. Morozov. What exactly did you mean by what you wrote in that note you sent? My voice was sharp, demanding answers.

He chuckled softly. “Well, exactly what it meant, Elena. The Vetrovs are nothing but a pack of opportunistic hyenas, always circling for scraps of power and wealth and when something gets in the way, threatens to destroy or harm that, it gets obliterated. You shouldn’t be so quick to trust them, my dear.”

“I don’t trust them, and I certainly don’t trust you, Mr. Morozov. But you’re the one who contacted me. Why do you think what happened to Mielle wasn’t just an accident?” I pressed, needing concrete reasons, not just vague accusations.

He sighed, a long, theatrical sound. “Well, it’s rather obvious to anyone with a modicum of intelligence, Elena. The so- called driver, Frankie Hudson, was just a newly turned adult, barely out of his teens. Using someone that green, that easily manipulated, for something like this was frankly stupid on their part. The young ones are always so… easily broken, aren’t they? Especially when a little pressure is applied.”

A cold bead of sweat trickled down my spine at his chilling words. “What… what are you saying? Did you… did you somehow threaten or coerce him? Did you kidnap him?“/

He said, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant, “Oh, I don’t stoop to such messy levels, Elena. Kidnapping him wasn’t strictly necessary to… open his mouth, shall we say.”

I pursed my lips, my mind reeling. How could I possibly believe anything this man said? He was a known manipulator, a powerful figure with ties to organized crime. “How do I know what you’re saying is even remotely true?” I asked in return, my voice filled with suspicion. The line went silent for a moment, and then he spoke, his tone shifting, becoming more

direct.

“You don’t, Elena. Not right now. But… you will soon enough. Trust me. Want to know what will happen next?” He asked, hint of a sinister amusement in his voice. I scoffed. “You’re going to predict the future now too?”

He chuckled again. “Call it a well–honed business skill, dochenka. Tell me, do you honestly think Mielle’s family will be pressing charges? Will there be a drawn–out civil case, or perhaps even a criminal case against the driver? And the mother… will she hire a high–powered lawyer, determined to bring the person responsible for her daughter’s death to justice?”

I frowned at his questions. “Of course they will! Her daughter just died because of him!”

He chuckled again, a sound that lacked any genuine humor. “You’re far too naive for this world, Elena. Let me tell you

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Chapter 132

exactly what will happen. There won’t be a messy, public criminal case. There might be a brief civil case, for apoke sake, but it will be over in a matter of months, if not weeks, because her grieving mother will give a wonderful, tearful speech regarding forgiveness and the importance of finding hope in the face of tragedy, after which she will gracefully drop all charges against the driver.” He said it with such a casual, matter–of–fact tone that it made my blood run cold.

My heart felt like it had been plunged into an icy vat for a moment, the sheer cynicism of his prediction taking my breath away. I clenched my jaw, refusing to believe such a thing was possible. Why? No.

My mind flashed back to the image of Mielle’s mother at the funeral, her face contorted in grief, clutching her chest as she knelt down beside her daughter’s coffin, her body wracked with sobs. How could she possibly do such a thing?

Forgiveness? That was a concept for a different realm, for a higher power. Frankie Hudson had driven under the influence, his recklessness directly leading to Mielle’s death. It had been his fault. Wouldn’t it be a cruel betrayal of Mielle’s memory if her mother simply forgave and forgot?

1 shook my head slowly.

“I know you don’t believe me right now, Elena. And that’s perfectly alright. Time will tell, won’t it? So, let’s not dwell on this unpleasantness any further. How is your internship at Legacy going, by the way?” He asked, the abrupt shift in topic making my frown deepen.

How could he so easily transition from discussing such a dark and disturbing topic to something as mundane as my work? I ignored his insincere attempt at small talk and pressed on, my voice firm. “Don’t change the subject, Mr. Morozov. Why did you say that Mielle’s death wasn’t an accident? I need proof, not just your vague insinuations.”

Sergei sighed. “Proof, dochenka… isn’t always that easy to attain, especially when powerful people want things to remain hidden. But tell me, would you actually like me to help you find that proof?” He asked, and I clenched my jaw, my

suspicion warring with a desperate desire for answers.

“If you weren’t willing to help, then why the hell did you tell me to call you in the first place?” I retorted, my patience wearing thin. Sergei chuckled again. “I never said I wasn’t willing to help you, Elena. I will give you all the proof you need. You can come to my house, and I’ll personally show it to you.” He said, his voice smooth and enticing, and I listened, completely baffled by his sudden offer.

I carefully considered his words, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – distrust, curiosity, a desperate yearning for the truth – swirling within me. “What’s the catch? Nothing in this world, especially coming from someone like you, is ever truly free.”

“You’re a smart girl, Elena. You’re absolutely right. How about this, then? You call me ‘Dad. Just once. That’s a fair transaction, wouldn’t you agree? Then you don’t even need to come to my home, and I’ll send you all the proof you need directly to your doorstep. A simple exchange for such valuable information.”

I scoffed, the absurdity of his demand making me want to hang up immediately. “Dream on, Mr. Morozov. If you weren’t genuinely willing to help without your ridiculous conditions, then don’t even bother.” I said, my voice filled with disdain, and without waiting for his reply, I pulled the phone away from my ear and abruptly ended the call.

He actually thought that just because he was a monster, everyone else operated on the same transactional, emotionally bankrupt level?

My phone pinged almost immediately, a notification for a new message. I clicked it open to see

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