<b>Chapter </b><b>140 </b>


    Elena’s POV:


    Sergei froze. His brows quirked, a flicker of surprise, quickly followed by something else – a deep, almost pained <b>expression </b>crossing his face.


    “She’s… Lazar’s mother?” He repeated. I stepped back a little, my body instinctively recoiling.


    “You mean… he’s your son?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, dread coiling in my stomach. I hoped. I prayed with every fiber <b>of </b>my being that wasn’t the case. The thought of Lazar, that arrogant, predatory man who had looked at me with such lecherous intent, being my half–brother, was utterly repugnant.


    Sergei’s eyes narrowed, the brief vulnerability vanishing, reced by a visible, simmering anger.


    “He isn’t.” Sergei said, his voice clipped, gritting his jaw, the word a definitive, almost violent rejection.


    I frowned, a sudden tightness gripping my chest, a different kind of dread settling in. “He’s not… blood rted to you?” I asked, needing absolute rity.


    Sergei turned to me fully, his gaze intense, unwavering. “Even if he is, Elena… I don’t im him as my son. You have nothing to be worried about on that front.”


    WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS OLD MAN TALKING ABOUT?! It didn’t matter what the hell he thought or imed if he was actually his biological father. My mind screamed.


    I covered my mouth with my hand, a wave of nausea, both physical and emotional, washing over me. I walked blindly towards the nearest wall, leaning heavily against its cool, smooth surface, and closed my eyes, trying to steady my churning stomach.


    I didn’t know why… but all of a sudden, the full, horrifying realization of it was dawning on me. Even if Lazar had merely been my ‘uncle‘ as I’d suspected before, it would have been bad enough. But that had felt so far away, so abstract. I wasn’t standing in front of Sergei then, wasn’t thinking of him, even slightly imagining him as my father, the biological source of my very being.


    But now… the person involved in the process of giving birth to me. The same person… who was involved in the process of giving birth to Lazar. The same Lazar who had tried to corner me one day and kiss me.


    And, most horrifyingly, the same Lazar who was directly involved in Mielle’s brutal assault. The disgust churned in my gut, a bitter, metallic taste rising in my throat. Only when I felt a warm, firm touch on my shoulder did I flinch violently, snapping out of my


    head.


    “What’s wrong with you? Is it because of Lazar? I told you, I don’t think of him as hi-” Sergei began, his voiceced with <b>concern</b>, but I cut him off, my eyes zing with a furious indignation.


    “Mr. Morozov, It doesn’t matter what you think. You’re still his biological father. Lazar’s biological father.” I clenched <b>my </b><b>fis</b>. pushing myself away from the wall, standing straighter, my body rigid.


    I needed to make my stance unequivocally clear, regardless of his denials. “Do you not know that Dmitri and Lazar <b>were </b><b>both </b>directly involved in Mielle’s assault?! Her rape?!” I asked, my voice rising, watching his reaction closely.


    Sergei stood straighter, his earlier frowning expression vanishing, reced by a cold, impassive mask<b>. </b><b>He </b><b>took </b><b>a </b><b>deliberate </b><b>step </b>back, his gaze sweeping over the corridor, as if checking for unseen listeners. “Let’s <b>not </b>discuss this <b>here</b><b>, </b><b>Elena</b><b>.</b><b>” </b><b>His </b><b>voice </b><b>was </b><b>low </b><b>a </b>clear warning.


    <b><i>1/3 </i></b>


    13:00 Sat, 2 Aug G


    He moved towards the imposing ck wooden double doors that stood at the end of the corridor, but I stayed rooted <b>to </b>my <b>ce</b>, refusing to budge. “No, I need to make this absolutely clear, right here, right now. I don’t care who Lazar is to you, or <b>what </b><b>your </b>convoluted family ties are. But he harmed Mielle. He was directly involved in her rape. If you n on protecting him, if you <b>intend </b>to hide any evidence of his involvement, then I am leaving this instant. Our deal is off.” I said, making sure my voice <b>didn’t </b><b>waver</b>,


    There was a long, tense silence in the vast corridor, broken only by the faint hum of the mansion’s unseen systems. Then<b>, </b>Sergei sighed. “I told you, Elena. He is not my son. Not in any way that matters to me. Whether he lives or dies, whether he gets arrested, or disappears off the face of the earth… has absolutely nothing to do with me. He is not my responsibility.” He said, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, and my clenched fists, which had been tight with anticipation, slowly began to rx.


    It felt cruel, almost sickening, that his cold, brutal words brought me such a profound sense of ease andfort. A father disowning his son with such chilling detachment was horrible, monstrous even. But then again, I wasn’t some saint, and Lazar was certainly not an innocent man.


    I nodded, and finally walked forward, following him towards the double doors. He pushed them open, revealing a vast, meticulously organized office, and I stepped inside.


    He pulled off his coat and draped it over a coat stand near the entrance before walking over to me and gesturing towards my own


    overcoat.


    I pursed my lips, then shook my head. “I’ll be leaving soon anyway,” I said, my voice t. He didn’t press the issue, simply turning <b>to </b>walk towards a series of built–in cabs that lined one wall of the expansive room.


    I noticed then that his office was not just a workspace, but a self–contained unit. It actually had a state–of–the–art coffee machine and a microwave, as well as a built–in mini–fridge, all seamlessly integrated into the dark wood cabry.


    I turned to look at the tworge, plush sofas arranged around a low, ss coffee table in the center of the room, and took my seat slowly, cing my bag next to me.


    He moved about the room, pulling out two mugs, and the machine whirred to life, the silence finally broken by the gentle gurgle of brewing coffee. He then spoke, his voice surprisingly calm.


    “Elena… I hope you realize that if you n on doing this the legal way, if you intend to pursue a criminal case against Dmitri, then your personal knowledge of the truth won’t be enough. You need to get officially involved with the police, provide them with irrefutable proof, which is a lengthy and often frustrating process.”


    I frowned, nodding slowly. “I know that. But I need you to first tell me what you know, what evidence you have. How else am l supposed to get that proof?”


    He looked at me then, his gaze piercing, our eyes meeting across the vast expanse of the room as he said, his voice low and serious, “That’s not entirely what I mean, Elena. Getting proof isn’t the issue. With this criminal case… you will also be making a very powerful enemy out of the entire Vetrov family. Which Niki, despite your current estrangement, is still very much a part of.”


    I tensed, my fingers instinctively curling around the fabric of my jacket. “I know that as well.”


    “Does he know, though?” Sergei asked, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone. My mind immediately shed to Niki’s words, his promise to do anything I asked, as long as it didn’t risk my safety or involve the divorce papers. “He does. <b>He </b>won’t get in the way.” Well. He hadn’t said that specifically, but he’d said he’d do anything I told him to. And I’d told <b>him </b><b>to </b><b>not </b><b>get </b>in my way. So, it was essentially the same thing, right?


    “And you’re okay with making an enemy out of his family… even though you’re carrying his child?” He said, <b>his </b><b>voice </b><b>calm</b>,