11 Strict Boss

“What’s going on here?” — our director, Mr. Koshev, asked sternly.

He walked into our — or rather, his — laboratory, giving both Polina and me a displeased look, then turned his gaze toward my peacefully sleeping children.

“Is this a daycare center now?”

The tone of our boss was sharp and full of irritation. He didn’t raise his voice, but that oppressive, intimidating aura he radiated made it hard to breathe. Standing before him, any employee instantly lost the ability to speak. I opened my mouth in fear but didn’t manage to utter a single word — nor even think of a decent excuse.

“Please, forgive us,” Polina started to justify herself, bravely taking the blame. “Don’t scold Victoria. It’s entirely my fault and responsibility. I had questions about the last batch, and I asked Victoria to help me, since I’ve never encountered anything like this before.”

The man was visibly furious — his heavy, rapid breathing and tense expression gave him away. His sharp gaze wandered around the room as he scrutinized every corner, every detail of our workspace.

We both turned pale. Because if someone wants to find a reason for reprimand, they easily will. And that’s not even counting the fact that my children were here — a perfectly valid reason for a fine on its own.

“What’s wrong with the last batch?” he asked finally, his brows drawing together on his forehead as his piercing eyes returned to us.

He’s kind of scary. There’s something frightening about him. He’s not a very tall man, with almost completely gray hair and noticeable bald spots, a slight belly — he looks his age, somewhere past fifty. But it’s not his appearance that’s intimidating. It’s the energy that comes from him.

For as long as I’ve known him, he’s always been grumpy, always dissatisfied with something. How such a kind, warm, and gentle woman like Olga manages to live with such a gloomy man — I have no idea. Maybe opposites really do attract?

It’s easy to see why Dani is always at odds with him. You simply can’t please a person like that.

“I ran an analysis on the latest batch, and the drug doesn’t react to our catalysts,” Polya began in a trembling voice. Her face had gone pale — not that I looked much better myself.

Our director clearly didn’t like her answer. A defective batch meant a pile of wasted money, since it couldn’t possibly go on sale. Of course, the people responsible for its production would be held accountable, but that still wouldn’t cover the loss — only add another headache while they hunted for whoever was to blame.

Slowly pacing the lab with his hands clasped behind his back, Nikolai stopped near my children. My heart nearly froze as I watched him study them closely. There was something like surprise — and a spark of curiosity — on his usually stern face.

“You do understand that bringing children into the laboratory is a serious violation of our company’s safety regulations, and it could also endanger the children’s health?” he scolded us — firmly, but not loudly. “Couldn’t you have left them with their father?”

Like thunder on a clear day, that seemingly innocent question hit me. It wasn’t that no one had ever asked before, but admitting to the director that the children were, well… “earned” by me, was completely out of the question — and I hated lying.

“They don’t have a father,” I replied, lowering my gaze for a moment. When I looked up, I noticed a thoughtful smile on the director’s face. He squinted at the boys and scratched his stubble, seemingly lost in thought.

“Very well,” his mood shifted abruptly to something softer. “We must deal with the defective batch properly. The more skilled specialists we have on site, the better, faster, and more accurate the process. But children really don’t belong here. I can watch them while you handle our shared problem.”