<b>Chapter </b><b>139 </b>
<b>Chapter </b><b>139 </b>
Elena’s POV:
“I <b>thought </b>I told you beforehand not toe here unannounced, Svena.” Sergei’s voice, though not raised, sliced <b>through </b><b>the </b>silence of the dining room like a sharpened de.
The way he spoke, the sheer, unadulterated venom dripping from each syble, made me realize with a jolt how incredibly soft <b>and </b>almost gentle he had been when speaking to me earlier. He had been a different man entirely.
Because right now, his words, though not loud enough to carry beyond the immediate vicinity, wereced with an icy contempt that made the hair on my arms stand on end.
ter.. carry womal
My eyes, drawn by the sudden tension, wandered from Sergei to the woman seated next to Lazar. She was d in an emerald green silk dress that shimmered under the soft light of the chandelier, her dark hair pulled back in a severe, elegant low bun <b>that </b>highlighted her sharp cheekbones.
She was undeniably beautiful, with a striking, almost regal presence, don’t get me wrong, but the look in her eyes… her facial features, the way her lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, the subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her. expression that made it seem like she was constantly scheming something dark and unpleasant? Yes, that reminded me unsettlingly of Lazar.
Which immediately made me question the true nature of the rtionship between these three individuals.
The woman, Svena, finally broke the silence, her voice a silken purr. She smiled, a slow, deliberate movement, and then rose gracefully from her chair, her emerald silk rustling
softly. “That’s quite rude, honey. And here I thought you’d be weing your wife with a smile after all this time. It’s been months since west saw each other, hasn’t it, Sergei?” She said, her voice dripping with a sweetness that made my stomach churn. Shock rippled through me, so profound that my head snapped to Sergei.
A strange, unexpected spark of betrayal shot through me then, a ridiculous<b>, </b>irrational feeling, as he deliberately avoided my stare. It was stupid, I knew. Utterly naive of me to expect a man of his status, a man who had clearly lived a life of immense power and influence, not to remarry after twenty–five years of his first wife’s death.
But… still. The way he had spoken of my birth mother, Anaya, had made it sound like he would never even think of another woman again, that her memory was sacred. I couldn’t help the soft, disbelieving scoff that escaped my lips. How utterly naive I had been. He was a man, after all. What had I expected? A lifetime of solitary mourning?
“Svena. Don’t test my patience. I assure you, you will not like the oue.” Sergei spoke, his voice low and dangerous, a clear warning. I frowned, my confusion deepening. Why was he so openly hostile towards her? Was it not a rtionship of mutual respect? He looked at her like he hated her.
“Ah… so this must be her, then? The lost princess… Elena Vetrov, isn’t it?” She asked, her gaze sweeping over me with an unnerving intensity. She began to move forward, her steps slow. “My name is Elena Kovalyova. Not Vetrov.” I corrected her..
She put her hand to her lips, and tilted her head, her eyes still fixed on me. She was walking closer now, and I realized then that one of her legs was making a soft, almost imperceptible clicking sound as she moved across the polished marble floor. Did she have a prosthetic limb? The thought was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by her presence.
“Oh… but aren’t you Niki Vetrov’s wife, dear? I heard you recently tied the knot….” She was cut off abruptly when Sergei spoke again, his voice like thunder, his patience clearly at an end. “That’s enough, Svena. I apologize <i>for </i>her rudeness, Elena. Let’s leave here<i>.</i>” He said, as he turned around. I frowned, a flicker of something akin to pity for Svena, despite her <b>unsettling </b>demeanor, crossing my mind.
<b>1/3 </b>
401
<b>Chapter </b><b>139 </b>
<b>I </b><b>wanted </b><b>to </b><b>question </b>him, <b>to </b>ask <b>him </b><b>why </b><b>he </b>was being <b>so </b><b>rude </b><b>to </b>her, <b>why </b><b>he </b>was <b>so </b><b>openly </b>dismissive of <b>his </b><b>own </b>wife but quite <b>frankly</b><b>, </b><b>the </b>way she was <b>looking </b>at me…
I <b>didn’t </b><b>want </b><b>to </b>talk to her for long either. So I just nodded in silent agreement, and followed him towards the <b>elevator</b><b>. </b>As the door. of the elevator silently closed, my eyes flitted past Svena’s still figure andnded on Lazar.
He was looking at me. I felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to look away, to break the connection, but something held <b>my </b>gaze.
His words, the ones he’d spoken to me in anger in the cafeteria, echoed in my mind. ‘Let’s see how far your morals <b>get </b><b>you</b><b>. </b><b>The </b>memory sent a fresh wave of disgust through me.
It was ridiculous to think now, how strangely the world had tilted on its axis for me in such a short span of time. A year <b>ago</b><b>, </b><b>Dmitri </b>had been my everything, the center of my universe. Then I learned the horrifying truth about his character and married his <b>fucking </b>step–brother.
A year ago, I hated Lazar for eyeing me like I was a piece of meat, even though I was his best friend’s girlfriend. And now, here I <b>was</b>, learning that he was my rtive.
There was a soft ding sound, and the elevator opened again, revealing a new, starkly different environment. I could tell Sergei wasn’t in a good mood; his jaw was clenched, and his shoulders were rigid as he stepped forward, his pace brisk, and began walking down the corridor.
This corridor, thankfully, was well lit. And the atmosphere was entirely different from the artsy, almost whimsical theme of the rest of the house.
This corridor was decorated with minimalistic ck and white marble, sleek, modern furniture, and abstract art pieces, creating <b>an </b>almost sterile environment that felt more like a corporate office building than a home.
“So, you remarried?” I finally asked, the question bubbling up, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer. The words felt a little usatory<i>, </i>even to me.
Sergei didn’t stop. He kept walking, his back ramrod straight, I followed behind him, my annoyance growing with each unanswered step. All of a sudden, the restlessness that had gued me since arriving was gone, reced by a slight annoyance and a growing anger at his evasiveness.
I sighed. “Did you also treat my birth mother this way, Mr. Morozov? The way you treated her?” I asked, the words leaving my mouth before I could truly filter them. Fuck. I had a feeling that I shouldn’t have said that. But now that I had, I wasn’t going to act afraid or back down.
He froze mid–stride, then slowly turned around, his eyes zing with an intensity that made me instinctively take a small step back. I could see his fingers clench and unclench at his sides. “SHE, Elena, is not a recement for your mother. What Anaya and I had was a true rtionship. That woman… Svena… is only my wife by name. Nothing else. She refuses to leave this house, despite my wishes.<i>” </i>He said, his voice raw with a bitterness I hadn’t heard before.
I frowned, my confusion mounting. “She refuses to leave?” I questioned, my gaze sweeping around the corridor. “You said anyone not wanted on the premises would get shot, didn’t you? If she’s truly not wee here, then she shouldn’t be able to even <b>step </b>a foot inside this wing, let alone sit at your dining table.” Who was he trying to fool here? This didn’t make any sense.
Sergei looked at the imposing ck wooden double doors directly in front of us, then back at me, his expression softening <b>slightly</b>, a hint of weariness in his eyes. “It’s not child’s y to rule an empire like this, Elena. Believe it or not, even I have my own restrictions, my own… political obligations. And Svena is also Lazar’s mother, I can not-<b>” </b>
“She’s what?!” I asked.