Chapter 357: On The Wings Of A Blue Butterfly

[FROLO]

"Mr. Moskowsky, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Mr. Romanov greeted the moment Sergei got into his home.

He’d been watching Sergei and Katya from the glass walls, and honestly, the old man was still conflicted about all this. If it wasn’t for the fact that he wanted his son happy, he would have agreed to whatever the fuck Katya and Sergei were doing at the moment.

Maybe it was a lesson that they needed to learn, but what was the point at the moment anyway?

"I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the investment I made in Romanov Steel five years ago," Sergei said, and Mr. Romanov stared at him, waiting for the man to continue.

"Sure, what about it?" Mr. Romanov asked as they walked to his study.

"I want to change the terms," Sergei said, and Mr. Romanov paused.

"The terms..."

"Yes, sir... when I first invested, it came from a point of pressure. Your son was hurting and refused to let anyone treat him. And your wife needed medical attention too," Sergei said carefully as Mr. Romanov opened the door for him.

Then they both walked on with the old Romanov locking the door behind them.

This was a conversation he wasn’t sure would end well, and he didn’t want his son and wife hearing about it.

Over the years, Mr. Romanov had been expecting a meeting with Sergei for the investment. He knew it was about time either way because at the end of the day they were businessmen.

Mr. Romanov knew better than to believe that Sergei Moskowsky offered charities just for the sake of it. The man had tripled the value of his empire, and maybe he was back to collect.

Especially now that Katya was back working in Romanov Steel.

"I have accumulated eighty percent of the investment you made, Mr. Moskowsky. It might take me a while to get the remaining twenty percent, but I assure you I will pay it back. And if I fail, you can have the company back.

"I won’t mind... Just no more contracts with my son. My Michka stays unaware of the terms, and he never gets to know regardless of what happens," Mr. Romanov said, making Sergei raise a brow at him.

"What?" a now-seated Sergei asked, as if he was not sure they were on the same page.

"I didn’t ask about the first contract you signed with my son. Because Katya wouldn’t let me interfere. But he did tell me a few months back that the contract was terminated already.

"I am just a father making sure my son doesn’t get to suffer for my mistakes again. He’s already suffered once, and I won’t let that happen anymore," Mr. Romanov said, pulling one of the files from the desk drawer and handing it to Sergei.

It was something that Sergei had not expected, but he didn’t say a word. Not even when he was told to open the envelope. He knew what to expect in there...

Happiness, Sergei had long realized, was the only goal the Romanovs had for Katya. Regardless of what happened to them. They wanted their son happy, unbothered.

And Sergei had picked up the change in atmosphere the moment Mr. Romanov locked them both in his study room.

"Ownership transfer papers," Sergei breathed like he was not expecting this at all.

Maybe a part of him that had done business with the Romanovs throughout the years had, but damn, he had not expected this today.

"Yes. Masha and I have signed them. All the Romanov properties, except the old manor west of the city. That is a home we leave for our son. If ever I’m unable to pay the remaining twenty percent, you can take the company and every asset we have;

"... except that one," old Romanov said, and Sergei listened, staring in understanding, as if this was not just born of a decision that was made yesterday or the day before yesterday.

This was a structured agreement, and the fact that he was handing it over to Sergei like that reminded Sergei that this family was not about to mess with their son’s safety and life. It was not that hard for him to understand, but damn.

"You’re giving me the original copy?" Sergei raised a brow.

This was dangerous for the Romanovs.

Surely, they had to have known that by now. Trusting someone like Sergei... hell, giving Sergei Moskowsky that much power over their property was not going to end well for them.

Sergei ate contracts for breakfast. He never cared about anything as long as everything was according to the terms of the agreement.

"Yes. You can sign it and file it, then send us a copy. You do have our company address if ever the day comes. Even if it is today. Masha and I aren’t opposed to it," Mr. Romanov said.

Sergei sighed, breathing through his mouth like he was trying to be very reasonable.

"Mr. Romanov..."

"My Michka is not a term for negotiation, Mr. Moskowsky," Mr. Romanov said, unfazed by the power in the room.

He knew this man before him could take whatever he wanted, but he was determined to make it obvious.

"I know," Sergei said quietly.

"It’s part of the agreement you’re holding. If you sign that agreement, you must never forget that," Mr. Romanov insisted, his son’s safety a primary concern for him.

"The investments are already in Katya’s name, Mr. Romanov," Sergei began, and the unimpressed old man stared at him flatly, as if to ask Sergei if that was supposed to make him jump for joy.

"I know you heard about the contract agreement I signed with your son on his hospital bed," Sergei continued, and Mr. Romanov still stared boredly.

"I brought you a copy of the first and second contract," Sergei said, reaching into his armor and pulling the envelopes.

"I sent copies to your email before I came here too," he added.

Still, old Romanov stared, unimpressed.

"Why are you giving me these? You think it will buy you favor with me and the business deal, or whatever you’re planning against my son?" Mr. Romanov asked coldly, his protectiveness showing at the mention of his son.

Sergei chuckled.

"Mr. Mosko—"

"Now I know where he gets his stubbornness from," Sergei said, getting up.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Mr. Romanov asked flatly.

"You’re a businessman, Mr. Romanov. You have your own system, and we both know that your son’s best friends would not have let me close if they didn’t know the terms of the agreements. Both the first and the second...

"...But you already knew that, didn’t you?" Sergei laughed lightly, like the stubborn old man was just another businessman he was trying to reason with.

"My son doesn’t want your money, Mr. Moskowsky," Mr. Romanov stated.

"I know. And I’m not here for pity or to make a business deal with you regarding your son," Sergei said, fidgeting as he put more distance between him and the old man.

Mr. Romanov noticed.

Sergei Moskowsky never fidgeted. Not in business rooms.

Not in public. Not in front of anyone ever.

Yet here he was.

And Mr. Romanov sighed.

"I still don’t like you for my son, Sergei," the old man said, reading right through Sergei.

"I—"

"For some reason you make him happy, which unfortunately makes it harder to cut off your head for what your son did to him," Mr. Romanov said as if he’d already done the math and didn’t like the odds at all.

Sergei stared, no longer a businessman who didn’t mind ruining people’s lives for contracts, but a man who was trying really, really hard to be presentable and not trigger a fight with the father of the man he loved.

"He defends you more than he defends Andre and Svetlana, which is more worrying for me as his father than whatever contract agreement you made with Romanov Steel," Mr. Romanov grumbled in disapproval.

He shook his head as if thinking for the hundredth time why his beautiful son had to fall in love with the devil of Frolo.

"I didn’t know that," Sergei said in earnest.

"Yeah, well, you’re not exactly omniscient even as the devil of Frolo now, are you?" the old man huffed.

"I can’t tell you to protect him or love him like he deserves... but... Sergei..." Mr. Romanov breathed firmly.

"If ever the day comes when you’re bored or tired of my Michka... please let him come home unhurt. Don’t... my son doesn’t like violence, and he’s been hurt enough times already," Mr. Romanov said, staring at the paper.

"You can always sign that agreement anytime, and we will respect it. Just... don’t break his heart... My dear child..." the old man sighed tiredly.