A lesson will be taught.
He’ll pay for this mistake.
I cracked my knuckles, resolved not to dismiss anything logical.
Everything was on the table. One way or another, Morovov would pay. And the rest of the world could watch as I executed this decision without flinching.
4
ELENA
Ientered my father’s office and closed the door quietly behind me. Even like this, giving him my back for another second, was an action of avoiding attention, of buying myself a few more seconds of not having to face him.
Once I turned, though, nervous and confused, I lifted my gaze and fought not to show how scared I was.
As expected, he looked furious. His ruddy cheeks were redder than usual, showing how he really probably should care more about his blood pressure. His eyes were slitted as he narrowed them at me, seething. Pressed thin in an angry, pursed expression, his lips remained unmoving as he seemed to size me up. A scathing once-over from him was nothing new. I was used to him viewing me as a waste of space, an inferior bother to deal with.
Even though I worked my ass off for him. Even though I never asked for anything and did as I was told, too ingrained in this mentality of having to please him and anyone else who tasked me with an assignment or expectation.
I had no clue what to say. I didn’t know what to do or ask.
Standing here and feeling like a trapped animal, I endured a horrendous wait for him to explain why he’d yelled for me like that. Maybe he’d explain why those spreadsheets were off, too. If he were to ask me why that account showed insufficient funds, I’d only be able to offer him the truth—that I didn’t know. They’d been right when I left last night.
“I have a situation with a client,” he stated in his raspy baritone.
“A client?” I blinked. “The one whose account was changed overnight?”
It didn’t seem possible, but he narrowed his eyes more. “You’re aware, huh?”
“I’m not sure what, exactly, I’m supposed to be aware of, but I noticed that the files I checked last night are showing something different this morning.”
“Hmm.” He huffed, but I couldn’t tell if it was grunt, a laugh, or a kind of murmur of agreement.
It was dismissive. And it worried me.
What is going on?I wanted to scream it, almost trembling with the urgency of too many questions swirling in my mind.
“Have you forgotten to inform me about a change in a transaction?” I asked.
He smirked now. That was even worse than him dismissing me. He’d dismissed me my whole life. While he’d never cared for me to speak up or question him, probably seeing that as an act of disobedience, I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t acting out of line to ask him that. If there was a new condition or policy orrequest that I needed to adjust to, then all he had to do was let me know and I’d smooth it out.
How could he expect me to read his mind or guess what was going on?
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry as I stood stock still and stared at him.
“I haven’t ‘forgotten’ anything,” he replied tersely, sitting upright. Without him leaning back in his chair, his posture was suddenly that much more threatening even though he remained seated. The idea that I could stand over him was laughable. There was no trick or power play in here. He was in charge, and I’d never have autonomy over my life.
“However, I did call you in here to inform you about a change.”
I almost exhaled in relief. If he wanted to always lord over me and remind me that he called the shots, whatever. He could enjoy his power trip so long as I knew what my expectations were.
Now we’re getting somewhere.Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding.
“A change for those accounts? And that transaction?” I stupidly jerked my thumb over my shoulder to indicate the direction of my office. “I’ll get right on it now.”
“A change in your role.”
I blinked.
