Chapter One
Mikhail’s POV
Age 10
“Now baby, be gentle when stirring the batter,” mum murmurs into my ear. She comes up behind me and her hand wraps around mine on the wooden spoon stirring the batter in the bowl.
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay my baby,” she says. “What’s our next step?”
I beam up at her. “We lick the spoon?”
She laughs and kisses my forehead. “Before that.”
“The batter goes into the cake pan,” I answer proudly.
“My little chef,” Mum coos. She grabs the cake pan we prepared before, and we pour the batter from the bowl into it. Mum grabs a spatula and scrapes the remains out of the bowl, then taps them into the pan.
She passes me the spoon, and I eagerly grab it and begin licking off the excess cake batter.
If mum let me, I would say to hell with cooking the cake and eat the batter from the bowl.
She puts the cake into the oven and then wipes her hands on her apron. “I think Nikolai is going to love his cake.”
“Me too,” I mumble around the spoon.
The front door slams open and Mum and I both flinch. I hear his stomping feet come into the combined dining and kitchen area and him grumbling something. “What are you doing?” He growls at Mum.
“It’s Nikolai’s birthday,” she stammers. “Mikhail and I are baking him a cake.”
Dad scoffs. “Why is he baking a cake?” Dad questions pointing at me. “He isn’t some педик.”
“He likes to help me,” mum says. “He’s my son too and I think-” Mum gasps and stumbles when Dad backhands her.
“You don’t get an opinion,” Dad snaps. “They are my sons, my heirs to my company.”
“Sorry,” mum mumbles. Dad kicks her behind her legs, and she falls onto her back on the ground.
“Don’t mumble when you speak to me,” he growls. “I’m so sick of having to fucking repeat myself when I talk to you women.”
“Please don’t hurt her anymore,” I whimper.
I go to help mum off the ground, but dad pushes me away and I fall back against the counter. “There are rules here Mikhail,” he growls. “You will soon realise when you have a wife that you need to teach them a lesson,” Dad says. He smirks. “I’ll show you.”
Dad gets on top of Mum, and he ignores her begging. He backhands her again and rips her apron off her.
I pull my knees to my chest and put my head in between them, refusing to watch.
But I listened to my dad rape my mum.
Kylie’s POV
Present day...
I walk into the break room at exactly 8am and pick up my clock card. I put it into the scanner to check in for today and noticed the two office bitches Yvonne and Farrah looking my way and giggling.
I kept to myself around here. I don’t do social events, I don’t have any work friends, and I do a fucking great job.
But somehow these girls have something to bitch about.
As I was making my first of three coffees for the morning, my boss Mr Brennan walked in, and his eyes were focused on me. “My office, ten minutes, Kylie,” he barks.
“Yes sir,” I say.
He storms out of the break room, and I hear Farrah and Yvonne giggling again. Once I’ve made my coffee, I head down the hall to the end where Mr Brennan’s office is.
I knock on the door and walk in, Mr Brennan peering up from his desk and waving at me to take a seat.
I sit across from his chair and tap my fingers impatiently on the armrest.
“We got a formal complaint, Kylie,” he says.
“About me?” I question. “I’m the most professional parole officer here.”
“Yes, about you,” Mr Brennan huffs.
“Was it Alexei Ivanov?” I demand. “He has it out for me.”
Mr Brennan rolls his eyes. “From Mrs Jayla Swank.”
I scoff. “The prostitute who got caught three times and is now out on parole instead of prison?”
“She states you have an attitude problem and that you don’t treat her with respect,” Mr Brennan claims.
“She’s a criminal,” I say. “I do my job.”
“She may be a criminal Kylie, but she still has rights,” Mr Brennan says. “You get another complaint; there will be repercussions.”
“But! -”
“You’re dismissed,” Mr Brennan cuts me off.
I huff my annoyance and storm out of the office.
Just the way I wanted to start the day
