Chapter 2 - I Took the Job to Save My Diner—But Misha Was Hiding in His Bedroom, and Someone Inside the Volkov Mansion Wanted Him DeadI accepted the job.
Not because I trusted Viktor.
I didn't.
Not because I wanted to enter the world of Chicago's most feared crime family.
I definitely didn't.
I accepted because twelve thousand dollars a month was enough to save Magnolia Diner.
And because when I closed my eyes, I saw Misha sitting alone in that booth.
A child shouldn't know how to be that afraid.
The Volkov mansion stood on a private lakefront property outside downtown Chicago.
It was enormous.
Stone walls.
Iron gates.
Security cameras.
Guards.
More guards.
Cars coming and going.
I counted five cameras before I even reached the front door.
A man named Anton opened it.
“Ms. Hayes.”
“Amelia.”
He nodded.
“You're expected.”
I stepped inside.
The foyer was larger than my entire apartment.
Marble floors.
Massive staircase.
Paintings.
Crystal chandelier.
Everything looked expensive.
Everything looked cold.
“Where's Misha?”
“His room.”
“Is he okay?”
Anton hesitated.
“No.”
That answer bothered me.
I followed him upstairs.
The hallway was quiet.
We stopped at a blue door.
Anton knocked.
No answer.
He opened it.
Misha was sitting beneath his desk.
Still wearing pajamas.
Still holding the paper bag.
The same paper bag from my diner.
I smiled.
“Hey.”
His eyes lit up.
“Amelia.”
“It's good to see you.”
“You came.”
“I did.”
“I knew you would.”
That statement surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because you said children shouldn't be left alone.”
I remembered.
I had told him that during dinner.
Apparently, he listened.
I sat on the floor.
“Can I come under there?”
He nodded.
I crawled beneath the desk.
“This is a very fancy fort.”
He smiled.
“Papa doesn't know.”
“About the fort?”
He nodded.
“Good.”
He whispered,
“He thinks I'm asleep.”
“Why don't you want to sleep?”
“Because someone comes.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“What happens?”
“Sometimes I hear the door.”
“Which door?”
“My room.”
“Does your father know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Misha looked down.
“He'll be angry.”
“At the person?”
“At everyone.”
I sighed.
“Okay.”
I looked around.
His room was beautiful.
But something felt wrong.
There were cameras.
A locked balcony door.
An alarm system.
And three different security locks on the main door.
“You have a lot of security.”
Misha shrugged.
“Papa worries.”
I stood.
“Where's your mother?”
He went quiet.
“She died.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at the floor.
“Papa says she died in an accident.”
“But?”
Misha whispered,
“I don't think so.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“I saw her the night before.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before.”
I felt chills.
“What did she say?”
“She told me not to trust Uncle Stefan.”
I froze.
“Who is Uncle Stefan?”
“Papa's brother.”
A knock sounded.
Misha jumped.
The door opened.
Viktor stood there.
“Everything okay?”
Misha immediately smiled.
“Yes.”
Viktor looked at me.
“How is he?”
“Better.”
He nodded.
Then his gaze moved toward the desk.
“What were you doing?”
“Hiding.”
Misha laughed nervously.
Viktor frowned.
“Why?”
“Because it's my fort.”
Viktor looked at me.
“Of course.”
I smiled.
He shook his head.
“Dinner in thirty minutes.”
“Okay.”
He turned.
“Amelia.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for coming.”
I nodded.
He left.
Misha waited until the door closed.
Then whispered,
“See?”
“See what?”
“He likes you.”
I laughed.
“He barely knows me.”
“He doesn't let people stay.”
I looked toward the door.
“Why?”
“He says people leave.”
That hurt.
I knelt.
“Maybe some people do.”
“Are you going to?”
I looked at him.
“No.”
His smile was small.
But real.
That evening, dinner was quiet.
Viktor sat at the head of the table.
Misha beside me.
I prepared pasta.
Nothing fancy.
Garlic.
Tomatoes.
Parmesan.
Misha ate two plates.
Viktor watched.
“He hasn't eaten like that in months.”
“Maybe he's tired of being served food that tastes like money.”
Viktor almost smiled.
“You're not afraid of me.”
“I am.”
He looked surprised.
“But I'm also not impressed.”
That earned a genuine smile.
It was brief.
But real.
I had never seen him smile before.
The rest of dinner went surprisingly well.
Then Misha dropped his fork.
He stared toward the hallway.
“What?”
He whispered,
“Someone is there.”
I turned.
Nobody.
Viktor immediately stood.
“Who?”
Misha pointed.
“The door.”
Security searched the hallway.
Nothing.
Viktor crouched.
“You're safe.”
Misha nodded.
But his fingers gripped my sleeve.
That night, I slept in the guest room.
At 2:14 a.m., someone knocked.
I opened the door.
Nobody stood outside.
Then I heard footsteps.
I followed.
They stopped near Misha's room.
The door was open.
Misha was asleep.
A shadow disappeared around the corner.
I ran after it.
The hallway was empty.
I returned.
Misha was awake.
He looked terrified.
“Amelia.”
“I'm here.”
“Don't tell Papa.”
“Why?”
“He'll kill someone.”
I stared.
“What?”
Misha lowered his voice.
“That's what he does.”
I sat beside him.
“Your father doesn't kill people because you are scared.”
Misha looked at me.
“Sometimes he does.”
Before I could respond, Viktor entered.
“What happened?”
Misha shook his head.
“Nothing.”
Viktor looked at me.
I hesitated.
Then told him.
He became very still.
“Someone was outside the room.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
He turned to security.
“Lock down this wing.”
Men rushed inside.
Misha grabbed my hand.
Viktor noticed.
His eyes stayed on our joined hands.
Something in his expression softened.
Then hardened again.
“Amelia.”
“Yes?”
“From tonight, you don't leave this house alone.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because whoever was outside that room may know about you.”
“Why would they?”
“Because you matter to Misha.”
I looked at the little boy.
Then at Viktor.
“You hired me to take care of him.”
“Yes.”
“You knew this could happen?”
He didn't answer.
I understood.
“This wasn't just a job.”
“No.”
“What was it?”
“A test.”
“For what?”
“Whether you would run.”
I stared at him.
“Would you?”
I crossed my arms.
“No.”
His eyes held mine.
“Good.”
The next morning, I returned to Magnolia Diner with a security escort.
My refrigerator was gone.
A brand-new one stood in its place.
My supplier called.
All overdue invoices had been paid.
The electricity was restored.
My landlord said the back rent was settled.
I looked at the papers.
My name.
Every bill.
Paid.
I called Viktor.
“You did this.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't ask.”
“You needed it.”
“I can't accept this.”
“You already did.”
“That isn't the point.”
He was silent.
Then:
“Amelia.”
“What?”
“You saved my son.”
“He needed food.”
“You gave him yours.”
I said nothing.
“My wife used to do that.”
My heart tightened.
“Viktor…”
“She died three years ago.”
Misha's mother.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
He hung up.
I sat alone in the diner.
Then I noticed something.
On the security monitor, someone was standing outside.
A man.
Watching.
I zoomed in.
Gray coat.
Dark glasses.
He lifted his head.
Looked directly at the camera.
Then smiled.
I called Viktor.
His voice changed when I described him.
“Don't leave the diner.”
“Who is he?”
“I'll come.”
“Viktor.”
“Yes?”
“You know him.”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
May you like
His answer was quiet.
“My brother.”
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