Chapter 4 - The Threat at the Door
By Thursday morning, the atmosphere in Zorenko’s House had fundamentally shifted. Without Veronika Pavlivna’s suffocating, tyrannical presence hovering over the waitstaff, the restaurant felt lighter, almost breathable. The other waitresses—who had previously walked on eggshells, terrified of being fined for the smallest infractions—smiled and greeted me warmly in the breakroom.
I had spent the night in the third-floor guest suite. Milana slept soundly through the night in her new crib, waking up only once for a feeding before drifting back into a sweet slumber. When morning came, I dressed in my crisp white blouse and black skirt, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
I was no longer just surviving; I was fighting back.
At 10:00 a.m., before the lunch service preparations began, I was summoned to the manager’s office on the second floor—Veronika’s former office, now temporarily occupied by a senior administrative director sent by corporate.
When I knocked and entered, I expected to discuss my new schedule or perhaps sign some paperwork regarding the change in management. Instead, I found Sebastian Zorenko standing by the large window, looking out over the sunlit street.
He turned as the door closed behind me.
— Marina, — he said, his voice calm and steady. — How is the little one?
— She’s wonderful, Mr. Zorenko, — I answered respectfully, keeping my hands clasped in front of my apron. — Thank you again for the room. I don't know how I can ever repay your kindness.
— You don't need to repay me, — Sebastian said, walking over to his desk. He picked up a thick manila folder and slid it across the polished wood toward me. — You need to be prepared.
I stepped forward and opened the folder. Inside were printed copies of legal documents, bank statements, and a formal petition filed with the Kyiv Family Court.
My breath hitched.
— What is this? I whispered, my eyes scanning the terrifying words: Petition for Emergency Custody of a Minor.
— Your ex-husband, Artem Salohub, filed this petition less than an hour ago, — Sebastian explained, his tone completely devoid of emotion, though his eyes flashed with cold intensity. — Backed by a notarized statement from his mother claiming that you are an unstable, homeless vagrant who abandons her child in commercial restaurant storage rooms.
My hands began to shake so violently that the papers rattled against the desk. — But... but that’s a lie! She took Milana! The security footage—
— The security footage has been secured and backed up in three separate encrypted locations, including my personal legal counsel’s office, — Sebastian interrupted, reassuring me with a firm, steady look. — They cannot delete it. However, Artem is represented by a rather aggressive civil attorney who specializes in leveraging bureaucratic loopholes for wealthy clients.
— I don't have a lawyer, — I breathed out, the room suddenly feeling like it was spinning. — I can't afford a lawyer. If we go to court, they’ll take my baby. Artem’s family has connections; they know people in the municipal administration. I’m just a waitress...
— You are a mother, Marina, — Sebastian said, his voice cutting through my panic with absolute authority. — And in this restaurant, my employees are under my protection. You will not face them alone.
Before I could process his words, the office door burst open without a knock.
A young man strode into the room, dressed in an expensive, ill-fitting charcoal suit, his hair slicked back with cheap gel, his face flushed with righteous anger.
Artem Salohub.
— Marina! Artem shouted, pointing an accusing finger at me before he even noticed Sebastian standing by the desk. — You absolute idiot! Did you really think you could play games with my mother and get away with it? You’re a terrible mother, everyone knows it, and the court is going to strip your parental rights by the end of the week!
Artem finally stopped when Sebastian cleared his throat—a sound like a heavy iron gate locking shut.
Artem blinked, recognizing the owner of the restaurant, and his arrogant demeanor flickered for a split second before he tried to mask it with a forced, oily smile.
— Ah, Mr. Zorenko, — Artem said, straightening his tie. — I’m glad you’re here. As the legal father of the child this... this employee of yours is currently harboring on your premises, I demand to take my daughter home immediately. She has no business being raised in a restaurant worker’s squalor.
Sebastian did not move an inch. He slowly placed his hands flat on his desk and leaned forward.
— Mr. Salohub, — Sebastian said, each word dropping like a lead weight. — You are standing in a private corporate office without an invitation, shouting at one of my senior waitstaff, and demanding a child who hasn't seen you provide a single box of diapers in eight months.
— That’s private family business! Artem snapped, losing his cool. — My mother told me everything! Marina left the baby alone in a dirty storage room! She’s unfit!
— Your mother told you how she personally snuck into the linen room at 5:03 p.m. to kidnap the infant and frame her daughter-in-law? Sebastian asked smoothly, raising an eyebrow. — Because we have ultra-HD video footage of that exact event, complete with audio of your mother gloating about it.
Artem’s face turned the color of curdled milk. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. — That... that’s fabricated! You edited the video!
— Feel free to explain that to the investigative division of the National Police, — Sebastian replied, pulling a smartphone from his pocket and tapping the screen. — My legal team has already forwarded the complete archive to the district prosecutor’s office. Filing a false police report and orchestrating child abduction to manipulate a custody dispute carries a prison sentence of up to five years. Would you like me to hit send on the final confirmation, Artem? Or would you prefer to leave my restaurant right now before security throws you into the alley?
Artem looked at Sebastian, then looked at me, realizing with absolute horror that his mother’s petty plot had completely backfired and dragged him directly into a criminal trap.
— You... you haven't seen the last of us! Artem stammered, backing toward the door. — The court will hear about this! You’re bribing officials!
— Get out, — Sebastian whispered.
Artem didn't wait to be told twice. He turned on his heel and fled down the hallway, tripping over his own expensive shoes in his haste to escape.
The office fell silent once more.
I stood frozen, tears streaming down my face, but this time, they weren't tears of despair. They were tears of profound, overwhelming relief.
May you like
Sebastian walked around the desk, stopping just a few feet away from me. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a clean linen handkerchief, and handed it to me.
— Dry your eyes, Marina, — he said softly, a faint, rare smile touching the corners of his lips. — The real fight hasn't even started yet. But you won't be fighting it alone.
