Sophia's POV

"Dad, you sent for me," I said as soon as I walked into his big, spacious office, closing the door behind me.

He doesn't respond or acknowledge me though. He never does.

A moment passed and still, he didn't look up from his computer he seemed to be engrossed in.

It's nothing new, I'm used to it.

"Dad?" I probed.

His hands paused on his keyboard, "You couldn't wait until I'm done? Or you're too stupid to see that I was busy?" He bit out.

Why did you ask me to come then? I don't say that to him though, I wouldn't dare. "I'm sorry," I say instead.

He waved me off. "Book a flight to Moscow tomorrow, you'll be joining Mr Brown for the charity event. If possible, go tonight."

A loud gasp escaped me. "What? N-no you can't do that," I protested weakly.

Big mistake.

Dad's head snapped up, and his cold, fierce gaze met mine. "Are you telling me no, Sophia?" He snapped as he stood up from his seat, and walked up to me. "Have you forgotten your place?"

A hand squeezed around my heart and my throat felt tight as I struggled to control my emotions. "Dad, please you promised to let me take part in the upcoming project, the project starts tomorrow," I pleaded, hoping he'd finally see my pains and struggles for the first time in years.

He was standing directly in front of me now, his presence making me feel small and unworthy as he pinned me with a condescending look. "Leave the project matters to the experts, I need you to represent us in Moscow," he said with a tone of finality in his voice that caused an ache in my chest.

But I'm not backing down, I spent weeks preparing for this project, late nights of asking questions, reading files and researching.

Plus he'd promised to let me work as the Business Development Manager if the project was a success.

"I don't want to go to Moscow, please. I'm tired of these events where I have to act like a human trophy. Please let me prove myself to you this once, I graduated at the top of my-"

It all happened in one swift movement, his hands swung through the air, striking my cheek with a force that made my head spin and my vision blur.

I barely had time to process the slap when he shoved me hard. So hard, that my balance faltered and I fell to the ground, landing painfully on my side.

It's not the first time he's hit me but that had been several years ago.

"Dad…" I whispered, my voice trembling. I looked up at him, hoping to see remorse or guilt on his face, but as usual, his eyes held nothing but contempt.

"No woman has ever dared to question my authority, and no daughter of mine has the right to! You will go to Moscow as I have asked, or else I will throw you out on the street like I should have all those years ago when that whore abandoned you with me!" He barked.

And I flinched at his words, my heart ached with pain far deeper than the physical, I had hoped he'd finally acknowledge or give me a chance, I was a fool to think so. I probably shouldn't have argued with him, it was all my fault.

"Leave my office!" His words snapped me out of my head. "Make no mistake of going against my orders, understood?"

"Y-yes," I croaked out as I scrambled to my feet, adjusting my clothes and I left before he did something drastic. He'd once flogged me with his belt and I wasn't looking forward to that.

I should know better than to test him.

LATER AT NIGHT.

I tried forcing my hoodie into my travelling bag and when it still didn't fit, I tossed it to the door as anger clouded me.

"The poor hoodie did nothing to you, babes," Daisy, my best friend, said as she walked in with two cans of beer in her hand.

"I'm a failure. Nothing seems to be working for me," I groaned, taking a can of beer from her outstretched hand.

She plops down on the armchair, "Hey, don't say that. You could do anything you set your mind to, you just have an arsehole for a father," she pointed out.

My heart squeezed at her words, anger and pain enveloped me. "I don't want to talk about him right now." I lifted my beer and downed it in one go.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice filled with so much sympathy it made me feel even more pathetic.

I shook my head. "You have nothing to be sorry for, it's not your fault at all."

It's no one's fault my father didn't love me when all I've ever wanted was his love and support. It's no one's fault he wishes I was a son and not a daughter. I-

"What if I come with you to Moscow, hmm?" Daisy suggested. "Maybe after your little charity stuff, we could stay back for a few days, and explore the city and stuff. It would be like the old times."

"Really?" I asked. "But what about Ryan, would he let you come with me?"

She averted her gaze but I didn't miss the sadness in her eyes. "I broke up with him," she said, her voice was so small I almost missed it.

I felt like a shitty friend, while I was bombarding her with my troubles I hadn't even noticed she was in pain.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, moving towards her, I took her hands in mine. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. And I decided to respect that, after all, Ryan was a touchy subject to her.

"So you're coming with me to Moscow?" I asked.

She chuckled, her eyes lighting up. "Of course, I wouldn't miss out on an opportunity to travel."

MOSCOW, FRIDAY 4:35 PM.

I hailed a taxi to take us to the hotel I had carefully picked out before our arrival. I leaned into the window, addressing the driver in my best attempt at Russian. "Можете нас отвезти на Красную площадь?" [Can you please take us to the Red Square?]

The driver gave a nod and gestured for us to get in. "Да, садитесь." [Yes, get in.]

"Wait, you speak Russian? Why didn't I know that? I'm supposed to be your best friend"

I turned to a bewildered Daisy, flashing her a grin as we settled into the taxi. "I know a few words. Enough to get us around, hopefully."

Of course, I learned a little Russian, I had to be exceptional so dad could acknowledge me. I also learned German, French, and a little Spanish.

"You literally sound like a pro."

I chuckled, "Not exactly. I still have a lot to learn."

She looked at me with a mix of surprise and amusement. "I can't believe you're casually speaking Russian. What else are you hiding?"

I winked playfully, "Nothing, I promise."

It was late in the evening by the time we were ready to leave. We made it back to our hotel suite. Daisy ordered room service while I went to take a hot bath.

I stepped out of the bathroom, with a large, white towel draped casually around me, and another doing the job of taming my wild post-shower hair.

Ding!

My iPad chimed as I put on my silky nightgown. I picked it up and unlocked it. I realised it was an email sent to the business email, specifically addressed to Dad. I'd only recently gotten access to the business email account after pressuring Dad's PA.

Deciding against forwarding it to Dad's email, I opened it.

Tom,

I was informed that you've been ignoring texts and emails sent to you and all attempts to call you have been futile. I am a very busy man just like yourself, I am also not a very patient man. You don't want to test my patience. Smolenskaya Square, Sunday 8 p.m, White Rabbit. I am sure you don't want problems, neither do I. I expect you to be at said address and on time.

Ivan Kozlov.

Wow, this is… interesting? Intriguing? I don't know. It just fascinates me.

No one has ever spoken to Dad this way, in such a superior and intimidating way. I have never met anyone with such power and nerve to do that. Who is Ivan Kozlov? What business does he have with dad? And why is Dad avoiding him?

Dad wasn't one to be toyed with, everyone in Europe knew that. Probably even outside of Europe.

It was obvious Ivan Kozlov has an issue with Dad and I'm pretty good at bargaining. I could try to appease Ivan Kozlov, he would forgive dad and If I could sort out his problems, Dad would finally see my worth, he would see that I'm competent, right?

Typing on my iPad,

I replied to the email.

To Ivan Kozlov,

Good day to you Ivan. I'll meet you at the said address then.

Tom Smith.

Then I deleted the evidence after I sent my reply.

Here goes nothing…