The old fool trusted me to continue the Morozov legacy.
In going through his assets, files, and everything in between, I come across a nice tidbit.
There’s a little black book in which my dear papa transcribed every shady transaction he did with higher-ups here, in Russia, in South America, and all over the world.
He did it in detail, too, highlighting people he’d already received a favor from and putting stars by others he hadn’t.
The heinous crimes and great lengths he went to in order to achieve power are spelled out one by one in this little gem.
Something I’ll certainly make use of in my future endeavors.
On the side of my desk, I’m slowly building a large house of cards. The geometrical shape and the amount of effort I put into this task helps in opening up my vision for all sorts of scenarios.
My phone vibrates on the desk, threatening to destroy my creation. I carefully grab it and lean back in my office chair to check it.
Viktor:Operation phase one is completed.
Kirill:Remain on standby until further instructions.
Viktor:Copy that.
I’m about to place my phone in my pocket when the door barges open, and Sasha appears on the threshold. Her shirt is disheveled, and her face is sweaty.
“Don’t you know how to knock?”
She breathes heavily before she blurts, “Your…your mother was kidnapped.”
“Is that why you decided to stop avoiding me?”
She strides inside, her brow furrowed. “How can you be so calm? Your mom…she was taken in the middle of the road.”
“Were you following my mother, Sasha?”
She swallows. “Is that important right now?”
“Maybe.”
A dark shadow falls over her eyes, making them appear somber. When she stops in front of my desk, her lips roll forward in a strangely adorable pout. “I know your mother isn’t the best person out there, but I’m telling you right now that her life is in danger. I saw it with my own eyes when the masked men hit her car, eliminated her bodyguards, and kidnapped her. So you have to do something.Now.”
I slowly place two cards at the top of my house. “Why should I? She wouldn’t have done anything if the roles were reversed.”
“Then how are you any different from her?”
“Who says I am? She’s my mother, after all.”
Her expression doesn’t change, neither in surprise nor in shock. Instead, she announces in a calm tone, “I don’t believe that.”
I stand up, and she flinches back slightly. It wouldn’t have been noticeable to an outsider, but I know the exact reason behind the gesture.
She prefers to avoid me.
Interesting.
“I might take action if you tell me why you were following my mother.”
“I was…trying to figure out who she was going to meet.”
“Have I given you the order to do that?”