The Billionaire's Mafia Lover

He proudly called my name "Elena Igorovich" like he knows me so well. Turning around to see the owner of this familiar heavy male voice was Mr Ivan our neighbor and a long time family friend who works at the Odessa train station in Ukraine - he was walking just few feets behind me in a bit of a hurry to escape "the incoming winter breeze and rain." My father used to work with him at the train station before traveling to Chicago, USA when I was just eight years old. Good afternoon Mr Ivan with a smile on my face. He has been our very good neighbor for over sixteen years. Just like a father to me now. He lives with his wife, three daughters and one son who is two years older than myself, "namely Oksana, Irina, Natalia and Yuri. A beautiful and happy family I would say. Yuri and I love playing snow fights since we were kids.. but that is a story for another day. What I always wish I had...a united and happy family under one roof. It's December in "Odessa Mama", this is how typical Odessian locals hail this their beautiful city of the former Soviet Union. How are you little Princess? You should work faster than me. I heard it's already snowing in Lugansk Oblast. This cold is bad for an angel like you out here. He said as he was also giggling with a big smile on his face this time. I am fine Mr Ivan, "I replied while I began to run down to enter through our compound's gate and escape the rain which had started coming down to join forces with this unforgiving cold. It was just another typical winter evening in Odessa suburb. For years now "of which I have lost count," Mr Ivan made it his obligation to check on us regular, buys me candy and some provisions for us every now and then. My Mom trusts him. And he doesn't let any harm come to us. He tells me always that my father was his best friend in Odessa, and in life too. I arrived in our building's apartment corridor. A Soviet-style seven-storey building right close to the Odessa "bazaar" market. I was a little bit touched by the rain. So I pulled out of my coat and sprinkled it but that wasn't good enough, just in time Mr Ivan said "here let me help you with that", he took it from me and sprinkled it hard to get rid of the water." I said "cnacubo"- meaning thank you in the Russian language as we started climbing up to our different residential floors. My family stays on the sixth floor while Mr Ivan' stay on the fifth floor. Stay safe Elena and greet your Mother for me "he said before vanishing from the bending of his apartment stairway." I opened the door and got into the house, the sweet spice aroma welcomed me. Mom was in the kitchen rounding up a typical Russian potato and chicken soup for dinner. "Welcome my love", she said as she turned walking towards me and took me into her warm embrace. My mother is originally from Marrakech in Morocco. She is motherly, homely, and lovely. "I hope that you have not caught too much cold or flu my love?". I said "no Mom" before sitting down to wait for my dinner. I saw Mr Ivan on my way back Mama.. he sent his greetings. Oh okay "that's good of him". Like I told you my love, I've known Ivan for a long time now. I met him as your father's friend when I came here from Morocco to study at the University where I met your father. And he has always been very good to us. Yes Mama. Can I ask you something? Yes my child go on. Does my father hate us? Is he really my father? Why have I not heard from him for the past seven years? Has he abandoned us for sure? Eat my love..am sure everything will be okay one day. Your father loves you so much just like I do. And I am very sure that he has a good reason for his absence. Don't worry now. Eat your food please. My appetite was as shaky as my mood.. a bowel of porridge in front of me became a monument before my absent mind.. Elena! My mother shouted at me, then I snapped and came back to the reality in front of me "which is that mama's food needs to be finished up." My daughter..life gives us good memories to build good feelings. Remember all the good times we used to have as a family with your father before he left us, trust that they will come back to find us again. I love you my child. Why is my mother not being open or is there something she knows about my father's where-about that she is not telling me? Is he really in America? Could it be that he has really forgotten about us? Is he married to another woman? Or is he dead? I need answers. I will speak with Mr Ivan for more answers "so I thought to my self". Reluctantly eating up my bowel of soup under my mother's loving but also disturbed-lurking eyes, I could read that she was pretending to be normal and strong for her only daughter in this cold country without the man she loves, her husband, the father of her child by her side like it used to be years back. Poor woman "I said to myself" Is this what love is all about? Will this happen in my marriage? I am so lonely sometimes. How I wish I had a brother or sister. I need money to take my mother and travel to America and seek for a good life, away from this Eastern Europe's harsh realities. So many "Whys" ran through my mind like a flood as I laid back on the living room's rug starring blankly into the ceiling, tears were already running down my face. I wiped them off "suddenly realizing that I was actually silently weeping." Mama put a warm blanket on me and in a second I was fast asleep like a baby. But my worries and fears followed me to my world of sleep. I immediately had a dream. I saw my father in a blue navy suit like with a classy customized costly brown pair of shoes.. clearly, he was definitely the CEO of the big company. He sat in a very sophisticated and well decorated office.. talking to a woman who seemed to be her secretary receiving instructions from him. I walked in there and immediately, he rose up, walked fast to where I was standing and I frozingly stood there looking at him like I was remoted not to move. My love, how are you?Where have you been? "Why are you looking like a poor man's daughter?" He asked. He came close to me-hugged me and said, am sorry Elena. I know how you feel. Where is your mother? I looked up to him and asked him, father so you still remember my mother? His face was filled with guilt, regret...but definitely with love, happiness and the desire to make up for his absence all these years. He nodded his head to mean "yes". Then I woke up.. looking to the clock-it said 9:28pm. Oh no "it was just a dream I cursed out." What dream my love? Tell me what dream, speak please, don't scare me what happened? I dreamt of Dad. Your father? Really? Yes mother. He was asking about you... About me? What did he say? Do you think he is coming back to visit us here in Ukraine? Mom took some steps backwards.. crashed into the sofa and sat there looking blankly into the window. Mom.. mom are you okay? Oh my God! What have I done? I should have kept this dream to myself.