<b>Chapter </b><b>135 </b>


    Elena’s POV:


    I didn’t know he knew about all of this and I certainly wasn’t about to excuse Niki’s own actions. However, “The situation between <b>me </b>and Niki <b>is </b>our private matter. You don’t have any right to interfere in it. As for your offer…” I clenched my fists, my <b>nails </b>digging into my palms, a wave of conflicting emotions fear, anger, a dangerous curiosity <b>– </b>washing over me<b>. </b><b>It </b>was tempting.


    Really tempting.


    –


    Not because I craved some sort of petty revenge against Dmitri for the callous way he had treated me. I had already gotten over that and <b>over </b>him.


    But because, deep down, I felt disgusted at myself. A desperate part of me knew that if I only showed a little more courage, then maybe, I might finally end up getting Mielle justice for the horrific fate that had befallen <b>her</b>.


    I <b>was </b><b>a </b>coward. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the truth <b>was </b>a bitter pill on my tongue.


    “I will think about it.” Was all I could manage, the words feeling weak and nomittal even to my own ears. At first, I hadn’t wanted anything to do with Sergei Morozov. He had ruined my life, had directly caused so much suffering for me and my mother. Even when he had recounted the sad, tragic story of my birth mother, a woman I had never known, I hadn’t possessed the emotional capacity to truly think about anyone other than myself and my own immediate pain back then.


    But ever since our debt had been cleared, a weight lifted from our lives like a physical burden, my perspective had subtly begun to shift. My mother’s workload had eased up considerably, the constant <b>stress </b>lines around her eyes finally softening.


    Now that she also had her beloved old car back in the driveway, she seemed visibly brighter, less perpetually tired. Each time I visited her in Velhaven, the atmosphere around the house felt lighter, filled with a sense of peace we hadn’t experienced in years. With the money she was saving each month by not having to pay the exorbitant interest on our old loans, she had even started getting a few new things for the house, small touches that made it feel more like a home again.


    Not that she didn’t still mourn Dad. That deep, abiding grief was a constant presence, evident in her quiet rituals, like making his favorite pumpkin pie every Tuesday. Years ago, we hadn’t been able to afford such luxuries often, only indulging on special asions. But now, she baked it frequently.


    All of this unexpected ease, this gradual return to a semnce of normalcy, had started making me feel conflicted. Was it <i>so </i>terribly wrong… that I was feeling a flicker of curiosity, a hesitant desire to know more? That even though I instinctively suspected Sergei Morozov was not a good man, I still desperately wanted to know more about him, about the mother I had never met, about the circumstances of my birth?


    Not to mention the past. Why had Sergei done what he had done to Niki’s mother all those years ago? Right now, I only knew the story from Niki’s and his mother’s deeply biased point of view. There were always two sides to every story, weren’t there?


    <b>I </b>sighed.


    A sharp knock came on my bedroom door, startling me. “Don’t call me again. I’ll contact you myself when I’ve my voice firm despite the tremor in my hand, and then I abruptly cut the call.


    decision,” I said,


    Shinichiro opened the door a crack, his face looking a little suspicious, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Who were you just talking to?” He asked, his gaze probing. I shook my head, offering a weak smile. “Just a friend.”


    He hooked a skeptical brow, clearly not entirely convinced. “Didn’t exactly sound like it…”


    “Did you need something?” <b>I </b>asked, deliberately shifting the focus away from my phone con


    He shook his head slowly. “No<b>, </b>just telling you that I’m about to <b>leave</b>. My bus is here. Make sure to lock okay? I’m taking my key with me… you keep yours. Also<b>, </b>will you be back here tonight, or<b>….</b>?” he asked.


    I answered truthfully. “I n to return to Velhaven tomorrow morning, Shinichiro. Your here before then.”


    up


    properly when you go out,


    end on Monday, so I’ll be back


    He nodded once. “Alright, good. Since Haruki is <b>also </bing <b>back </b>from his <b>case </b>abroad – it just ended sooner than expected, apparently – he’ll probably be staying here at the condo for a while.” He said, and even though I already knew this because Haruki had let me know via text earlier, I simply said, “Thanks for letting me know.”


    With that said, he offered a brief<b>, </b>almost awkward goodbye and left. Soon after, I double–checked that the condo was securely locked and made my way to the metro station to begin the journey back to Velhaven.


    My phone pinged softly, and I nced down to <b>see </b>a notification from Fiona. A frown creased my forehead. Opening it up, I saw a <b>picture</b><b>. </b>It <b>was </b>a recent post, time–stamped from earlier this morning, on Dmitri’s public social media ount. A wave of disgust churned in the pit of my stomach as <b>I </b>read the apanying caption: “What’s life without a little alcohol?” It was apanied by a photo of him sprawled on a luxurious–looking sofa, a giggling girl draped on his right side and Lazar, looking equally inebriated, lounging on his left.


    This had been posted today. In the morning. Dmitri was partying? Did he not feel a single ounce of guilt or remorse for the role he had yed in Mielle’s death? For the pain he’d caused her? The sheer callousness of it made my blood run cold.


    1 got another notification almost immediately, this one from a local news ount on Instagram that I followed for updates on city events. My breath hitched as soon as I saw the name mentioned. Niki Vetrov.


    A new branch of Sirro, was opening in Abu Dhabi. The article included <b>a </b>photo of him, looking every bit the sessful billionaire, at what appeared to be a pre–opening event.


    Wait… Abu Dhabi? Didn’t that mean he wasn’t even in the country right now? A sudden wave of relief washed over me, quickly followed by a renewed sense of unease. I bit my lips and turned to look around the carriage. Even though I had, over the past few weeks, be ustomed to the unsettling feeling of constantly having eyes on me, I hadn’t stopped being aware of my surroundings.


    And right now, as the metro rattled along the tracks, I knew with a certainty that no one was following me. The familiar chill of being watched was absent.


    I softly rubbed my abdomen, and gazed out at the passingndscape.


    On one hand, the thought of actually seeking help from Sergei felt like a profound betrayal of my mother, of everything she had sacrificed for me, of the memory of my stepfather. On the other hand… I was an adult now, wasn’t I? Didn’t I have the right to make my own choices, however difficult or morally ambiguous, without constantly having to prioritize other people’s feelings above my own?


    Not to mention, I didn’t just want to go to Sergei out of some sudden desire to connect with my estranged biological father. I wanted to go to him because a desperate, nagging part of me believed he might actually be able to help shed some light on what had truly happened to Mielle. Because if it really was premeditated murder…


    If Sergei, despite his questionable character, actually possessed concrete proof, not just circumstantial evidence… then wouldn’t I, not just as her friend, but also as a fellow human being, have a moral obligation to bring her killers to justice?


    With that decision, however uneasy, finally made, a sense of grim resolve settled over me. I clenched my phone in my hand and typed out a short message.


    ‘I wille‘ ‘But I have two conditions‘


    His reply came almost instantly, the words shing across the screen, making my breath catch in my throat.


    ‘Anything for you, Dochenka.‘