Page 46 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

The drive to my father's house felt like the longest of my life. The weight of what I was about to face pressed down on me with every passing mile, every turn of the wheel. Nikita sat beside me, silent and brooding, his eyes fixed ahead. His men were close behind, their vehicles forming a convoy that would surround the estate once we arrived. There was no turning back now.

I had spent years hating Nikita, consumed by the belief that he was responsible for Alexei's death. But now, the truth was far more twisted than anything I could have imagined. My father—Nicholas Donovan, the man I had looked up to, the man I had thought of as distant but fundamentally good—was the one who had orchestrated everything. He had betrayed Alexei, manipulated me, and set me on a path of destruction. And for what?

I stared out the window, my heart pounding in my chest as the estate came into view. It was just as I remembered—grand, sprawling, with perfectly manicured lawns and towering stonewalls. But now, the place I had once thought of as home felt more like a prison, suffocating me with the weight of secrets.

The car slowed as we approached the gates, and I could feel Nikita's gaze on me.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice low, edged with the emotion he had been holding onto since we learned the truth.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to nod. "I don't know if I'll ever be ready," I admitted, my voice shaky, "but I have to do this."

Nikita's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of something softer in his eyes—concern, maybe, or even something like protectiveness. But then it was gone, replaced by the cold, calculating mask he always wore when preparing for battle.

"Stay close to me," he said, his voice hard. "This isn't just a confrontation. It's a power play. Your father won't go down easily."

I nodded, feeling the cold knot of dread twist tighter in my stomach. Nikita was right. My father wasn't the kind of man to fold under pressure, and I had no idea what to expect from him now that everything was out in the open.

As we stepped out of the car, Nikita's men fanned out around the estate, surrounding it with military precision. I could see the guards stationed at the entrance, their faces hardening as they realized what was happening. They were outnumbered, outmatched.

We moved toward the front door, and with each step, my heart pounded harder in my chest. This was it. The moment I had been dreading, the moment where the truth would finally be laid bare.

The door opened before we reached it, and there he stood—my father, Nicholas Donovan, in all his cold, calculating glory.He hadn't changed much since the last time I'd seen him. His silver hair was neatly combed, his tailored suit crisp and immaculate, and his sharp blue eyes regarded me with the same distant detachment he'd always had.

But there was something else in his gaze now. He knew why we were here.

"Lily," he said smoothly, as if we were simply meeting for dinner. "What a surprise."

I felt my stomach churn, and before I could speak, Nikita stepped forward, his voice a low growl. "This isn't a social call, Donovan."

My father's eyes flicked to Nikita, and for a brief moment, I saw a flash of something like fear in his gaze. But it disappeared just as quickly.

"Of course it isn't," he said, his voice still calm, but there was an edge to it now. "You've brought your army to my home. What do you want?"

I stepped forward, my hands trembling at my sides. "We know the truth," I said, my voice cracking. "About Alexei. About everything."

For the first time, I saw my father's composure slip. It was slight—a tightening of his jaw, a flicker of surprise in his eyes—but it was enough. He hadn't expected this.

"Lily," he said, his tone patronizing, as if I were still a child. "I don't know what lies you've been told, but Alexei's death was tragic. Nothing more."

"Stop lying!" I snapped, my voice rising with a fury I hadn't realized was building inside me. "We know you were behind it. We know you manipulated him, used him, and when he couldn't do what you wanted, you let him be killed."

My father's eyes darkened, but he didn't speak. Nikita stepped closer, his presence a looming threat beside me.

"Tell her the truth," Nikita growled, his voice filled with barely contained rage.

Nicholas's gaze flicked between us, and for the first time in my life, I saw something like panic in his eyes. He wasn't in control anymore. Not here. Not with Nikita standing beside me, his men surrounding the estate.

"I don't know what you think you know," my father said slowly, his voice colder now, "but you're mistaken."

Nikita's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "Am I? Because I have every document, every transaction, every piece of evidence that ties you to Alexei's death. And if you don't start talking, I'll make sure it all becomes public."

My father's face hardened, and for a long, tense moment, none of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. And then, finally, Nicholas Donovan let out a bitter laugh.

"So, you found out," he said, his voice low, almost mocking. "I suppose it was only a matter of time."

I felt the ground shift beneath me, my breath catching in my throat as I stared at him. "You're admitting it?"

My father's gaze turned icy, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "What did you expect, Lily? That I would mourn Alexei's death like you? That I would care about his life when it was my empire on the line?"

---