Chapter 144 Chapter 144

Chapter 144 Chapter 144
Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Four

Dimitri

Three weeks had passed since that night at the factory. For the first time in what felt like years, there was peace. My shoulder had healed. The stitches were out and the pain was mostly gone. Nikolai was thriving, growing stronger every day. And Alexei was changing.

I noticed it in small ways. The way he looked at Nikolai with pure love instead of possession. The way he talked to Irina with respect instead of resentment. The way he spoke to me like a brother instead of an enemy.

We were in my office going over business reports, something we had not done together in months.

"The shipment from Italy arrived," Alexei said. "Everything checked out."

"Good," I replied. "And the deal with the Petrov family?"

"Finalized this morning," Alexei said. "They agreed to our terms."

I looked at him. He seemed lighter somehow, less burdened.

"You are different," I said.

Alexei set down his pen. "Almost losing Nikolai changed me. Watching him nearly die because of my mistakes made me realize what truly matters. Just family."

I nodded. "I feel the same way."

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, something we had not shared in a long time.

Then Alexei spoke again. "I am sorry. For everything. For taking Irina. For betraying you. For nearly destroying us."

"I know," I replied.

"Do you forgive me?"

I thought about it. "I am trying to. Every day, I try a little more. It is not easy, but I want to forgive you."

"That is enough," Alexei said. "That is more than I deserve."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I called.

Viktor entered. His face was serious. "Boss, we have a situation."

My stomach dropped. "What kind of situation?"

"Someone left a package at the gate," Viktor said. "No return address. Just addressed to you."

"Did you scan it?"

"Yes. No explosives. But there is something inside you need to see."

He handed me the box. I opened it carefully. Inside was a file folder and a photograph.

I pulled out the photograph first, and my blood ran cold. It was a picture of my parents, standing together and smiling. But that was not what made my blood run cold. It was what was written on the back.

"They did not die in an accident."

I flipped the photo over and showed it to Alexei. His face went pale.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

I opened the file folder. Inside were police reports, autopsy results, witness statements. All dated from the night our parents died.

I read through them quickly, my hands shaking. "Our parents were murdered."

The word hung in the air. Murdered. Not an accident.

"That is impossible," Alexei said. "We saw the car. It went off a cliff."

"According to this," I said, holding up a police report, "the brakes were tampered with. Someone cut the brake lines before they left that night."

"Who?"

I kept reading. Then I found it. A witness statement from a mechanic who worked on our father's cars. He claimed he was paid to sabotage the brakes, paid by someone who wanted our parents dead.

"Who paid him?" Alexei demanded.

I read the name and felt like I had been punched. "Mikhail."

"What?"

"Mikhail paid him," I said. "Our uncle Mikhail ordered the hit on our parents."

Alexei grabbed the document. "No. Mikhail raised us. He loved us."

"Did he?" I asked. "Or did he just want control of the family business?"

I thought about how quickly Mikhail had taken over after our parents died, how he had managed everything, how he had always been there, always controlling.

"We need to confront him," Alexei said.

"No," I replied. "Not yet. We need more proof. This could be fake, someone trying to turn us against him like Katerina did with Lucia."

"Exactly," Alexei agreed.

Viktor cleared his throat. "There is more. The mechanic who gave that statement is still alive. Living in a small town three hours from here."

"We need to talk to him," I said.

"I will arrange it," Viktor replied.

After Viktor left, Alexei and I sat in silence, processing what we had learned.

"If this is true," Alexei said quietly, "if Mikhail really killed our parents, what do we do?"

"We make him pay," I said. "But we do it carefully. We do not act until we know for certain."

Alexei nodded. "Together?"

"Together," I confirmed.

We spent the rest of the day planning, going through every detail of our parents' death. By evening, we had a timeline. Our parents had been at a business dinner. They left around midnight. Their car went off a cliff twenty minutes later. Mikhail was the first one notified, the first one at the scene. He had identified the bodies, arranged the funeral, taken custody of us.

"He planned it perfectly," Alexei said. "No one suspected anything."

"Until now," I replied.

There was a knock on the door. Irina entered. "Dinner is ready." Then she saw our faces. "What is wrong?"

I explained everything. Irina's face went pale. "Mikhail? But he has been so good to us."

"I know," I said. "That is what makes this so hard to believe."

"What are you going to do?"

"Find the truth," I said. "Whatever it is."

Irina sat down. "This is too much. First Lucia, then Katerina, now this. When does it end?"

"I do not know," I admitted. I pulled her close. "But we will face it together."

Alexei stood up. "I should check on Nikolai."

"Wait," I called. He stopped. "Thank you for being here, for standing with me."

Alexei smiled. "Where else would I be? You are my brother."

That night, I could not sleep. I kept thinking about Mikhail, about the man who had raised us. Could he really be a murderer? Could he have killed our parents and then pretended to love us for twenty years?

I got up and went to my office. I pulled out an old photo album and looked through pictures of my childhood. My parents, Mikhail, all of us together, smiling. I studied Mikhail's face, looking for signs of guilt. But I saw nothing. Just a man who looked like family.

"Could not sleep either?"

I turned. Alexei stood in the doorway.

"No," I said.

He walked in and sat beside me. "I remember this day," he said, pointing to a photo. "We went to the lake. Father taught us how to fish."

"And Mikhail caught the biggest fish," I added.

We both smiled at the memory, but the smiles faded quickly.

"How do we reconcile this?" Alexei asked. "The man in these photos with the man who might have killed our parents?"

"I do not know," I admitted.

Alexei was quiet. "What if we are wrong? What if someone is setting him up?"

"Then we find out who," I said. "And we
make them pay."

"And if we are right?"

I looked at him. "Then we make him pay."

Alexei nodded. "Whatever happens, we face it together."

"Together," I agreed.

We sat there for hours, looking through old photos, remembering better times, and preparing for what was coming. Because one way or another, the truth would come out. And when it did, nothing would ever be the same.