Page 129 of Sinful Games

Drayi, sprawled out on the leather sofa near the entry, lazily smoked a cigarette, a cheap car magazine resting in his other hand. He barely lifted his gaze, but the shift in his posture didn’t go unnoticed—the predator recognizing another in the room.

“Well, well, Caia,” he drawled, his lips curling into a mocking grin. “Lookin’ good these days. Guess I can call you a MILF now, huh?”

The smirk he wore was a dagger, twisted deep into old wounds. I shot him a look that could kill, refusing to feed into his sick little game. Silence could cut just as deep.

Before I could respond, the office door slammed open, and my father stormed in. Fury twisted his features—brows furrowed, lips drawn tight, eyes darkened with something sinister.

There he was. My nightmare incarnate. The real devil in the flesh.

“Where is my grandson?” he demanded, voice like a knifescraping against stone. There was no question, only command. As if he could still rule me, still control every breath I took.

The thought of him near Lukyan? Over my dead body.

“I left him at home,” I said, my voice steady but seething. He would never get his hands on my son. Not in this life, not in the next, and certainly not when hell froze over.

His face darkened. The silence between us stretched, heavy and oppressive. The air thickened, and for a split second, a flicker of fear clawed its way through my resolve. Being here, alone, was reckless. I’d walked straight into the lion’s den, but my back was already against the wall.

I wasn’t leaving without a fight.

Memories clawed at my mind, refusing to stay buried. I was ten, barely a child, playing in the living room—innocent, carefree. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow, and I was chasing bubbles, laughing. But then the door opened. He stepped inside, his face twisted with the kind of rage that made the room colder. He saw the bubbles, saw me smiling, and his expression darkened.

I fumbled, dropping the bottle. The carpet soaked it up like blood.

His response was instant—before I even had time to process it. He struck me so hard that everything blurred, stars dancing in my vision. When my dress shifted and my panties were exposed, he spat the word "whore" at me. I was just a little girl back then.

That day marked the beginning of the shame, the fear that wrapped around my throat like a noose. Every smile, every laugh, killed before it could bloom.

He was the architect of my nightmares, the one who sculpted the fear that haunted me to this day.

“I have a right to see him,” he snarled, breaking the silence, the sound dripping with venom. “I did a shit jobraising you, but I’ll fix that mistake with him. I’ll make him?—”

I stepped forward, cutting off. “You willneverlay eyes on him. If I hear your name again, if I get one more text, one more whisper that you’re sniffing around to worm your way back into my life, I swear the only thing you'll meet next is death.”

My voice, my resolve, had never felt so final. I wasn’t just a daughter anymore. I was a mother—a force that would burn down the world to protect what was mine. I’d never known love like this before. It stripped me bare, tore down every wall I’d ever built, and left me standing there, vulnerable, but stronger than I’d ever been.

I’d bleed for my son. I’d die for him.

My father’s laugh was cold and hollow, his eyes scanning me like I was something amusing, not the threat I was becoming. “Look at you, pretending to be a big woman,” he said with a smirk. “I don’t know what that worthless Romaniev has filled your head with, but you don’t come in here and fucking cross me.”

I scoffed, folding my arms to stop the trembling from showing. “Worthless, huh? He wasn’t that worthless when you sold me to him for a few dollars, was he?”

The truth of it made his eyes narrow, his face flushing a deep crimson. I’d struck a nerve; one I’d aimed for deliberately. He could pretend all he wanted that I meant nothing to him, but the minute he sold me like property, I’d become his greatest failure.

“You’re just as worthless as him,” he spat, stepping closer, his eyes wild. “Don’t think for a second you’re safe from me, Caia. I can still make your life hell. I’m your father. You don’t fucking walk away from that.”

I stood taller, my voice cold as death. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a Romaniev now. I don’t answer to you anymore.”My final words were a death sentence to whatever illusion of control he still thought he had. "Burn in hell, Mankiev."

Without waiting for his response, I turned on my heel and left, the fire burning in my chest a mix of rage and triumph.

For the first time in my life, I walked away with my head held high—free from the chains he’d wrapped around me since birth.

And for the first time, I smiled.

Chapter

Forty-Four

“Any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.”

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