Page 7 of Slipping into the Dark Side

One month after his father’s funeral, they were all finally sitting down to read the will. Yakov thought it would be a family affair, but for some reason Yaroslav’s lawyer brought in every captain of their organization. From the most paid to the lowest level. Thirty five heads with their sons. They had to orchestrate this gathering in the grand hall instead of their father’s study to fit all the guests. The sun came in through the windows, blasting rays and unbelievable heat that even the air conditioner in the corner of the room couldn’t combat. He was sweating in his suit and he pulled at his collar.

It’s been forty days without Yaroslav and Yakov still waited for the man to come back to life. His ghost floated in the hallways, watching, never giving up his control on his family.Yakov would do anything to stomp his ghost into hell. Which was why drinking and drugs would have been very beneficial these last few weeks, but Tatianna’s words kept him from such weaknesses. If Yefim came for him in the middle of the night, he needed to be ready. Living in a constant state of fear had done damage to his pride. Never before had he been scared to sleep. Today would end all of that.

The five sons of Yaroslav sat in the front row with their sisters in the back. Thankfully no children today which was a blessing. As much as they were entertaining, the quiet was preferable. They were waiting for the last of the guests to arrive when Yakov’s aggravation broke through. “Why were so many invited to this thing?”

“Don’t worry, brother.” Yefim’s legs bounced even as he chastised Yakov for being impatient. “You’ll get your inheritance soon enough.”

Yakov clenched his teeth, twisting his notepad in a pole, willing himself to smack his brother in the face with it.

A hand landed on his shoulder from behind. Boris Stephanov was his best friend and confident and the man whispered in his ear, “Whatever happens today, I’m on your side.”

Yakov nodded once, but it was a needed assurance. There was a dread in his gut about today. So many things could change. He was hoping his father would treat him with the respect he deserved but one thing about Yaroslav was you never knew where you stood with him. He liked you one minute, but would shoot your dog the next. Yaroslav loved how he made people afraid of him.

“Why would Nevsky bring his daughter?”

Yakov spun his head faster than intended and found Tatianna just behind her father’s right shoulder. She skipped over him in her assessment of the room and scooted ahead when Nevsky directed her to a chair. She was dressed in a white pencil skirtand tight white long sleeve shirt. She held out her hand to Fedor and he kissed her knuckles in greeting. She acted like she adored it, but she was so far above him, she was like a hundred thousand dollar painting, and he was a drawing by Yakov’s five year old niece.

Women were something he never would understand. Nor would he take the time to try.

Yakov had tried to forget about her. Whores were plenty in the Morozov household, and they were talented at their job. But too many times he found himself fantasizing what it would be like to get between Tatianna’s legs. He bet there was a venus-fly trap down there waiting to devour him. And he didn’t think he’d mind the pain.

Boris cackled in his ear, “The one that got away.”

“Shut up,” Yakov hissed.

“So touchy. Is this why you’ve been in a terrible mood?”

“Yes, my father was ripped apart by a pack of wolves, but a witless woman is why I’m miserable.”

Yakov exaggerated about the wolves. His father was already dead when the wolves fed on his carcass, but it hit with the right dramatic flare.

Boris snickered. “You lovesick fool.”

Yakov spun around and smacked him with the paper, but Boris only laughed as he covered himself, profusely apologizing. Yakov huffed, found Tatianna’s gaze on him, and spun around to fix his composure. He ignored the side eye roll from Yefim and the hushed‘children’he chastised under his breath.

Yaroslav’s lawyer came to the front of the room, standing in front of Yaroslav’s massive self portrait. Funny enough, Yaroslav was wearing wolf skin over his shoulders.

The speech went on for an hour. Most of it was bullshit. Yakov barely held on to the topics as the lawyer divided up small portions of his father’s empire. It was all normal stuff, lands thatpeople already controlled being kept in their positions. It was tedious, but necessary incase anyone got ideas about expansion or taking what wasn’t theirs.

Yakov didn’t start to listen till the lawyer got to Yaroslav’s sons and he sat up straight, ready to take the disappointment like a man.

“To my sons, Yaroslav Jr., Dasha, and Slavik. A yearly inheritance of three hundred thousand will be divided between you. And a hundred thousand will be given for every child you conceive, (Legitimate or bastard). I ask you to follow your brother in leading the company, but if you chose to venture out, you will be excommunicated from the family and all inheritance will be lost.”

Just like that, Yaroslav controlled his siblings from the grave. It wasn’t surprising, but it was disappointing to hear. Yakov didn’t feel badly for them however. He worried more now for himself. What had his father planned for him? Why not include him with his other brothers?

“Yefim and Yakov.”

Yakov rested his elbows on his knees so he didn’t have to see his brother’s bouncing leg. He twisted the roll of paper in his hands, having completely forgotten to take any notes, but what did he need to remember all this tedious information for anyway? He was going to be cast out. He was going to be exiled. He’d become a beggar on the streets.

No, even if he lost everything, there was no living like a peasant. He’d get it all again. It would take him years perhaps, but he’d come back swinging.

“This decision was the hardest to make, but I made it without hesitation. Yefim will be sent to America–”

“What?” All of Yefim’s movements stalled and Yakov forgot to breathe.

“To join forces with the Rostovas in their business venture. Yakov will take over as my replacement for the family.”

Yakov stared ahead, watching as the lawyer tucked the paper back into the manila envelope. Even as his brother got to his feet and rushed out of the room with his pregnant wife in tow, or how the crowd behind him outraged, nothing made much sense. The lawyer stood in front of him and handed him the envelope, “Mr. Morozov.”

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