Page 83 of Ruthless Daddies

“Miss Alice,” he says smoothly, his voice polite but cool. “Marta needs you downstairs.”

I glance at him, a prickle of unease running up my spine. I’ve been trying to ignore the strange feeling I get whenever Sergei is around, but right now, it’s impossible.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I reply, my voice steady even as my hand instinctively tightens around Luka’s shoulder.

But Luka has already stopped talking.

He stiffens against me, his wide eyes darting toward Sergei before dropping to the floor. His tiny hands grip my sweater as if it’s a lifeline until Sergei leaves the room.

“What’s wrong, Luka?”

“Luka always stops talking when Sergei’s here,” Mila says, her voice curious but matter-of-fact.

“Mila,” I say softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “why do you say that?”

She shrugs, her big brown eyes shifting between me and Luka. “He just does. He gets all quiet and looks at the floor, like now.”

Her words sink into me, a cold realization stirring at the back of my mind. Luka has always been quiet, withdrawn even. But now that I think about it, Mila’s right. Sergei’s presence seems to turn him to stone.

“Luka?” I say gently, brushing his hair back from his face. “Is something wrong? You can talk to me.”

He doesn’t move, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. I can feel Mila’s gaze on both of us, her expression solemn and far too mature for her age.

“It’s okay,” she says, leaning closer to him. “Alice is nice. She’ll help.”

Luka’s hands still, and he finally looks up at me. His eyes are wide, full of something I can’t quite place—fear, sadness, confusion? Maybe all of it.

“Sergei was there,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

My heart skips a beat. “There? You mean…where, Luka?”

He hesitates, his little brow furrowing as if he’s trying to piece together his thoughts. “When…when Mommy’s car…”

His words trail off, and suddenly it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room.

I take his hands in mine, keeping my voice steady. “Luka, it’s okay. You can tell me. What happened?”

He glances at Mila, who nods encouragingly. “It was loud,” he says finally, his voice trembling. “Mommy was mad. She was talking on the phone, yelling. And then there was a big noise.”

I swallow hard, my grip on his hands tightening. “A big noise? Like a crash?”

He nods, tears welling up in his eyes. “The car stopped, and there was glass everywhere. Mommy wasn’t moving.”

The lump in my throat grows as he continues, his words shaky but determined.

“I was scared,” he whispers. “I cried, and then the door opened. Sergei was there. He picked me up and said we had to go home. But…but Mommy didn’t come.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and my heart shatters. I pull him further into my arms, holding him close as his small body trembles.

“That’s when Luka stopped talking,” Mila says softly, her voice tinged with sadness.

“She didn’t come,” Luka says again, his voice muffled against my chest.

“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “None of it was your fault, Luka. You were so brave.”

He sniffles, his little arms tightening around me. Mila rests her head on my shoulder, her presence warm and comforting.

But my mind is racing. Sergei was there. He pulled Luka out of the wreckage. Why hasn’t anyone told me this before? A chill of realization goes through me.

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