Page 39 of Ruthless Daddies

“Mila,” I say carefully, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Are you sure? Are you sure you saw someone following your mom?”

She nods solemnly, her eyes wide. “He had a cap and sunnies so I couldn’t see his eyes,” she adds, her voice quiet. “But when he smiled, it was not like a nice smile.”

I don’t know what to say. My mind is spinning, trying to piece together what this could mean, but nothing makes sense. Couldit be true? Could someone have been following Elena before her death? And if so, why?

“Thank you for telling me,” I say finally, pulling Mila into a gentle hug. “You’re so brave, Mila. And I promise, no one is going to hurt you or Luka. Not while I’m here.”

She nods against my shoulder, but her small body still trembles slightly, and I hold her tighter, wishing I could shield her from the world. Luka shifts slightly by the window, his little hands relaxing their grip on the toy car, and I take that as a small victory.

But Mila’s words stay with me, a seed of doubt and fear taking root in my chest. If there’s any truth to what she’s saying, then Elena’s death might not have been an accident. And if that’s the case…what does it mean for all of us?

I wander down the hall, my steps slow and aimless as I try to make sense of it. Could she be right? Or is it just a child’s fragmented memory of a tragedy too big to fully grasp? Either way, it gnaws at me, twisting my stomach into knots.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice Sergei until I nearly run straight into him.

“Whoa!” I say, stepping back quickly. “Sorry, I?—”

For a moment, I can’t move. He’s just standing there, his large frame blocking the hallway like a wall of muscle, his dark eyes fixed on me with an expression I can’t quite read. My heart stutters in my chest, a sliver of unease slipping down my spine.

“Excuse me,” I murmur, trying to sidestep him, but he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t say anything either, just watches me with that same blank expression. I feel my pulse quicken, my hands tightening into fists at my sides as I force myself to hold his gaze.

“Miss Parker,” he finally says, his voice low, smooth. There’s something in his tone that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, though I can’t quite place why.

“I—um, I need to go,” I say quickly, my voice faltering.

Just as I’m about to sidestep him, I catch sight of Nikolai at the end of the hall. Relief washes over me like a tidal wave, and I call out to him without thinking. “Nikolai!”

He turns, his expression impatient at first, but the annoyance fades as his gaze lands on me. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, brightening his face as he strides toward me.

“Alice,” he says, his tone softening as he stops a few feet away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, glancing back over my shoulder. Sergei is still there, watching us, but after a moment, he turns and walks away without a word.

“I just…wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure,” he says, motioning for me to walk with him. “About what?”

I hesitate, glancing back down the hallway where Sergei disappeared, but the feeling lingers, the sense that he’s still watching me somehow. I push it aside, focusing on Nikolai as we walk toward the lounge.

“It’s about Mila and Luka,” I say finally.

Nikolai frowns slightly, his shoulders straightening as he nods. “What about them?”

I take a deep breath, trying to phrase it carefully. “I was just wondering…after their mom passed, did they…did they see anyone? A counselor or therapist, maybe?”

His expression darkens, his jaw tightening as he looks away briefly. “No,” he says finally, his voice clipped. “They didn’t need that.”

“Nikolai,” I say gently, reaching out to touch his arm. He doesn’t pull away, but his muscles are tense under my fingers. “They’ve been through a lot. And after what happened at the park, I think?—”

“They don’t need strangers digging into their heads,” he interrupts, his voice sharp. “They’re fine.”

I hesitate, my hand dropping back to my side. “Mila isn’t fine,” I say softly. “Neither is Luka. They’re scared, Nikolai. They’re holding it all in, and it’s going to come out eventually, whether they want it to or not.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know that?” he mutters, his voice quieter now, almost pained.

I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “Then let me help,” I say. “Let someone help. It doesn’t have to be me, but it has to be someone.”

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