Chapter 141
Chapter 141
Elena’s POV:
“What?” I blurted out, my voice thin, almost disbelieving.
Then, despite the tightening knot in my stomach, I shook my head, my jaw setting stubbornly. “No… I am not.” It felt like a flimsy lie even as the words left my mouth. Why was I so bad at lying? Especially in a circumstance as critical as this?
My mind raced, searching for a plausible explanation, a convincing denial, but my thoughts were a chaotic jumble.
Sergei just looked at me. His gaze was unwavering, as if he could see straight through my transparent facade.
After what felt like an eternity, he slowly turned away. He picked up the cup of coffee that had just finished filling, its rich aroma filling the entire office.
I heard the faint clinking of a spoon against ceramic as he stirred something into the mugs, perhaps sugar or cream, but the sound was slowly getting farther away from me, fading as my anxiety mounted.
I tried to stop my knee from bouncing up and down. My hands clenched in my lap, digging my nails into my palms.
Then, there was a light thunk as he set a cup down on the table directly in front of me. The aroma of fresh coffee now enveloped me, but I felt no desire to drink it.
My gaze remained fixed on him as he turned and began walking towards the massive desk that dominated one side of the office. He pulled out a manila folder from one of its drawers and made his way back to the sofa, sitting opposite to me.
“What’s in that?” I asked, my voice a little hoarser than I intended, my eyes flickering from his face to the folder he’d set on
the table.
He grabbed his cup of coffee, took a slow sip. Then, he spoke. “Proof.”
“Of what?” I questioned, even though a cold certainty was already forming in the pit of my stomach. I just wanted him to
confirm it.
He set his coffee cup down with a soft click, his gaze unwavering. “Do you plan to abort it?” He questioned, completely ignoring my question.
I paused, the unexpected directness of the question momentarily stunning me. Then, as his words registered, a wave of cold fury washed over me, pushing aside the anxiety. I took a deep breath.
“Is it proof of Dmitri’s involvement in Mielle’s death?” I countered, my voice tight with thinly veiled anger. Since he was going to ignore my questions, I decided I would give him a taste of his own medicine. My gaze hardened, challenging him to deflect again.
He sighed. “It does contain that… and more.” He said, his eyes still fixed on mine, watching for my reaction. My curiosity got the better of me, overriding my anger. I leaned forward, my hand reaching for the file, eager to open it.
Only for it to be pulled back, a fraction of an inch, just out of my reach. My hand hovered in the air, frustrated, and I looked at him, my brow furrowed in a deep frown.
“Answer my question, Elena.” He said, his voice flat, insistent.
1 bit back a sharp retort. “I’m not pregnant,” I lied, the words feeling even more hollow and unconvincing than the last time.
He scoffed, a short, dismissive sound that was almost a snort. “I have been married twice, Elena. I know what a nauseous, pregnant woman looks like. Believe me when I tell you, your condition is quite obvious.”
I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white. Alright then. “What was the second condition I gave you before coming here, Mr. Morozov?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet, though a tremor ran through my core. I needed to remind him of the boundaries.
He clenched his jaw, a muscle twitching in his cheek. I could feel the anger radiating off him in palpable waves. But! couldn’t let him get a hold of me now. If I allowed him to control the narrative here, then I wouldn’t be able to do anything in the future.
“That. Was before I realized you were carrying the child of a Vetrov.” He said, his voice hard, unyielding. I wanted to scowl, to lash out at his audacity, his judgmental tone. My child was not a weapon, not a bargaining chip, and certainly not a symbol of a family I barely tolerated.
“This child is not anyone else’s. It’s mine,” I said, my voice rising, my hand slamming down on the table. “No. I will not be aborting it. Nikolai does not know about the pregnancy. And if you insist on going against the rule I set, the rule we agreed upon, then I am leaving this instant.” I said, pushing myself up from the sofa.
I didn’t wait for his response. I wasn’t going to beg him for the folder, for the information I knew he possessed. Did he think I was desperate? Did he really believe that I couldn’t do this without him, that his power was my only path? Yes, it would be difficult without him but….
I had lived twenty–five years without him. I had been through hell. I would be perfectly fine, living the rest of my life without him as well, without his grand influence or his conditional assistance. My hand reached the door handle, and I clicked it open.
“Sit down, Elena.” He said, his voice low. It was not a request, but an order.
I clenched my jaw and pulled the door open, only then did he speak again, “I won’t mention it again.” He said, his voice softer now, almost weary.
I paused. “This is truly the last time, Mr. Morozov,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Then I closed the door again. I slowly turned around and walked back to the sofa, sinking onto its plush cushions.
“How do you know that Mielle’s death was premeditated murder and not just an accident?” I asked, finally, steering the conversation back to the only reason I was willing to endure all this.
He grabbed the manila folder from the table, and pulled out three sheets of paper. He handed the first one to me.
It was a faded, slightly creased ID copy. I instantly recognized the person in the grainy picture: a young, gangly boy with nervous eyes, looking much younger than the man I remembered. Right beside his image, his full name was printed in stark black letters: Frankie Hudson/My brow furrowed. It was a student ID, the kind given to high schoolers.
“Velhaven Academy for Boys. Does that sound familiar?” He questioned, his voice calm, watching for my reaction. I
My heart slams against my ribs.
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