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The Russian Billionaire Shamed the Waitress in Russian — Then She Used the Name Only His Father Was Allowed to Call Him

Chapter 3

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He looked suddenly older.“No.”“She did.”Viktor turned his head, staring at nothing.Nia continued.“She kept a photograph in a blue envelope. Three boys beside a river. One was her brother. One was your father. The youngest was you.”Viktor looked at her again.“My father knew Elena?”Nia almost laughed.“Knew her?”Her eyes hardened.“Your father saved her life.”Leonid had followed Viktor into the corridor.At those words, he stopped.Nia noticed him.And the color draining from his face.That frightened her more than Viktor’s anger had.Because Leonid Baranov knew the name.She could see it.Viktor turned.“Leonid?”The older man recovered quickly.“Anton knew hundreds of people.”Nia shook her head.“Not like this.”She reached into the pocket of her apron and removed a small brass key on a faded red thread.Viktor stared at it.Stamped into the key were two characters.A.M.“My mother told me if a Morozov ever asked about Vitya, I should show him this.”Viktor reached for it.Nia closed her fist.“She also told me never to give it to Leonid Baranov.”Silence filled the corridor.Leonid’s face became expressionless.Viktor slowly turned toward him.“What did you just say?”Leonid gave a thin smile.“A grieving woman fills a daughter’s head with stories, and suddenly we are conducting an interrogation beside a kitchen.”Nia looked at Viktor.“Your father left something in New York.”Leonid interrupted.“That is enough.”Nia’s eyes stayed on Viktor.“He left it for you.”For the first time all evening, Viktor Morozov looked uncertain.Not irritated.Not insulted.Uncertain.“What?”Nia closed her hand around the key.“I don’t know.”“That makes no sense.”“My mother never opened it.”“Where is it?”Nia hesitated.Leonid took one step forward.Viktor’s security men immediately moved between them.Leonid stopped.Viktor noticed.So did Nia.“Where?” Viktor repeated.Nia met his eyes.“Grand Central Terminal.”At 11:42 that night, Viktor stood beneath the vaulted ceiling of Grand Central with no entourage except one security officer named Pavel and the waitress he had humiliated three hours earlier.Nia had changed out of her uniform.Jeans. Black coat. Hair tied back.She carried no purse.Only the brass key.“You could have mailed whatever this is,” Viktor said.“My mother didn’t trust your office.”“Why?”“She said your father didn’t either.”
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The Russian Billionaire Shamed the Waitress in Russian — Then She Used the Name Only His Father Was Allowed to Call Him

7 Part