Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 88: Chapter 88

Elena’s POV:
I bit my lip and looked away, my gaze drifting to the edge of the window where the light was slipping out of the sky. The room had grown darker without me realizing it, shadows bleeding across the hardwood floor, swallowing the warmth that had once lived in this home.
Did Nikolai know this? Did he know Anaya—my biological mother—had overdosed? Did he know all of it? The picture, the timeline, the drugs? Or had he only known enough to break me with it?
No. No, if he did… then would Dmitri know too?
And if he knew—why the hell would he say it was suicide?
My thoughts were spinning, jagged and frantic. They crashed into each other like angry waves, each more disorienting than the last. The words refused to leave me alone. Suicide. Overdose. Miscarriage. Addiction. It was too much.
“Who told you she committed suicide?” Sergei’s voice cut through the haze, sharper now. His tone was clipped, demanding, and I flinched at the question. My gaze snapped back to him as I stiffened.
“I…” I shook my head. “Nobody.”
His eyes narrowed just slightly. I could see him analyzing me like a chessboard, tracking every microexpression. “Was it Nikolai?”
The name on his tongue sparked a fresh flame in me. My shoulders squared as I glared at him. “No. It wasn’t. He didn’t say anything about her.”
“Then who was it?” he pressed, agitation coloring his words now. His previously smooth composure cracked, revealing something beneath it—something impatient. Unstable.
And I don’t know why, but my gut screamed at me to lie. To protect someone who didn’t deserve it.
Because if I told him it was Dmitri—if I said that name—I knew it would mean consequences. I could see it already. Dmitri, found somewhere in a warehouse, bruised and bloodied. Or worse. Much worse. And no matter how twisted that man was… I didn’t want more violence. Not right now. Not over this.
“It’s none of your business,” I said flatly, letting the sneer curl across my lips like armor. “Why can’t you just let it go?”
Sergei chuckled. But it wasn’t amused. It was low. Dark. Something twisted and sharp beneath the surface.
“You keep saying that, but Evelina—”
“My name is Elena,” I snapped, louder than I meant to. The force of it cracked across the room like a whip.
He paused. Then gave a tight nod, like he was humoring me.
“Elena,” he repeated. “I am your father. And someone spreading rumors about my wife? That is my business.”
His tone was laced with restraint, like he was walking the razor’s edge of patience. But I didn’t care. I was so far past caring, I felt hollow inside.
“Rumors are going to spread whether you like it or not,” I muttered, rising to my feet. “That’s what happens when you live your life neck-deep in dangerous people and dangerous deals. You want to control everything? Then maybe you shouldn’t be in a business like yours.”
I turned to the door and nodded toward it with my chin. “If that’s all, you can leave.”
“Elena.” My mother’s voice cut in, soft but firm—like a warning bell chiming low in the distance. My head whipped around to face her.
Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Her lips pressed together like she was holding back everything she wanted to scream. I pleaded with her silently. Please, Mom. Don’t make me endure this anymore.
But then Sergei opened his mouth and said the one thing—the only thing—that shattered everything I had left to hold on to.
“Your reaction to me,” he said slowly, carefully, “is this because of your family’s debt? Because if that’s the case... then I’ve already cleared it.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?” I breathed.
Mom froze beside me.
Sergei turned to her, utterly unapologetic. “You asked me last night about Omertà. It’s one of my companies.”
A silence more deafening than screams filled the room.
Mom’s face went blank for a second, then shifted. Slowly, so slowly. Her brows furrowed. Her jaw tightened.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, standing up, taking a step towards him. “Morozov. You’re the Morozov that runs the loan shark company?!”
Her voice rose, louder than I’d heard it in years. The sound of her horror echoed through the walls.
The bodyguard shifted at the door. One step forward. Like a reflex. A threat.
But I was faster.
I stood abruptly, my feet scraping across the floor.
“No.” My voice was steel. “Don’t you fucking move.”
The guard paused, glancing toward Sergei for instruction.
Sergei held up a hand. “Back down,” he said simply.
The guard stepped back into place like a machine reprogrammed.
“Loan shark is a bit of a stretch,” Sergei added casually, turning back toward us. “My company is a completely legal loan institution. However…” He smoothed his lapel again. “I admit, I hadn’t been monitoring it closely the past few years. It seems some of my employees got... overly ambitious with the interest rates. I’ve handled it. Taught them a lesson. So you needn’t worry.”
Mom laughed then.
But it was dry. Hollow. A painful sound.
“Needn’t worry?” she repeated, disbelief bleeding into every syllable. “You ruined us. You bled us dry for years. You took everything. My savings. Elena’s security. My husband’s dignity—he died overworking himself, and you’re standing there acting like this was just some minor accounting error?”
Her hands were trembling now. Clenched tightly at her sides.
And me?
My arms were shaking. My whole body vibrating with suppressed emotion.
This was why I hadn’t wanted him here. Why I wanted it all to stay buried. Now she knew. And I could see the hate starting to form behind her eyes—not just for Sergei, but for me.
“You...” she started, and the crack in her voice shattered me. “You didn’t even tell me? Elena… I’m so… disappointed in you.”
My chest seized. The ground felt like it tilted beneath me.
“Mom—” My voice broke. “I didn’t know how to tell you—”
Tears welled in her eyes. She shook her head hard. “Don’t.”
“Please,” I begged. “I swear I didn’t mean to hide this. I was trying to—”
“I said don’t!” she snapped.
And then she turned.
“Get out,” she said coldly. “All of you.”
I froze.
“Mom, wait—”
She raised her voice this time, fire returning to her limbs like they had a will of their own. “Get out of my house!”
Sergei’s expression didn’t shift much. He frowned, like she was an inconvenience. Something he could deal with later.
“I’m not leaving without my daughter,” he said.
My heart stopped.
My entire body locked up.
I turned toward her, my eyes wide, heart slamming painfully against my ribs.
Would she hate me now?
“She is not your daughter anymore,” Beatrix snarled. “She’s my daughter. I raised her. I held her every time she cried. I gave up everything for her. I’m registered as her guardian. Now get out before I call the police.”
Sergei stood slowly, deliberately, and that’s when I realized just how massive he was. Towering. Broad. Built like a mountain in an Armani suit.
And I understood—instantly—where I got my height from. My limbs. This man was my father. No one would deny it if they saw us side by side.
He was even taller than Nikolai.
“You dare to threaten me?” he said, voice quiet, but thick with menace. He took a step forward.
And something in me snapped.
“I’m not going to go with you!” I shouted, my voice reverberating off the walls. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—leave. You aren’t my father. Not where it matters.”
I rushed toward my mother and pulled her behind me instinctively. My hands were trembling. My heart pounded against my chest like a drum in a war zone. I could barely breathe.
I was fast—but not fast enough to fight.
Not against three grown men.
And certainly not against one with a gun.