Page 91 of Ruthless Daddies

My eyes burn with unshed tears as I clutch the flowers tighter, the petals trembling. Part of me wants to scream at him, to tell him what I’ve been hiding, to hurl the truth in his face so he’ll realize how unfair this all is. But I can’t. Not when their trust is so fragile—if it exists at all.

“This isn’t love,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “It’s control.”

He stiffens, pain flickering over his features. “Alice, please?—”

“Just go,” I murmur, my voice cracking. “I need some time to think.”

He hesitates, but the finality in my tone must register, because he nods slowly and backs away. As he disappears down the hall, I stare at the bouquet in my arms, a hollow ache throbbing in my chest.

The afternoon sunfeels almost oppressive, casting harsh lines across the balcony where I stand, Elena’s phone clutched in my hand. I’m staring down at the courtyard below, watchingSergei move with his usual precision—quiet, unreadable, and undeniably intimidating.

I tighten my grip on the phone, my thoughts churning. Ever since Luka confided in me about Sergei being there during Elena’s accident—about how he pulled Luka out of the car and brought him back—I can’t stop wondering what else Sergei has kept hidden. Did he see the accident happen? Did he have something to do with it? Why hasn’t he ever mentioned it?

And why is everyone so damn sure he’s beyond suspicion?

I flick my gaze down to the phone’s screen. The messages I found on Elena’s hidden phone all those weeks ago run through my mind.

I’ve gone over them so many times the words feel burned into my memory. Now, with everything spiraling, the suspicion around me, the baby they don’t even know about, I’m desperate for a way out. A way to prove I’m not the traitor they think I am.

If only I could prove Sergei’s involvement…

The idea strikes me like a flash of lightning. If Sergei is the one behind that unknown number—or involved somehow—I can force his hand. My heart thrums in my chest as I navigate the old phone’s menu, pulling up the message thread. It’s a risk, a huge one, but at this point, what do I have to lose?

I glance around, making sure no one’s watching. The balcony is secluded, shielded by a high stone railing, and the courtyard below is busy enough that no one looks up. Sergei is out of earshot for now, pacing near the far corner where the guards usually gather. If he’s the one who picks up, that’ll be all the proof I need.

With a shaky breath, I press the call button.

The phone rings, an old, tinny sound that makes my nerves spike. I watch Sergei below, searching for any sign that he’s about to answer his own phone, a pocket buzz, a sudden movement. My heart pounds, counting each ring, waiting for him to pause, to reach for his phone,to do anything.

My pulse is hammering, and my palms grow slick with sweat against the cold metal of the phone. On the fourth ring, the line clicks.

He picked up.

But Sergei doesn’t move. He’s still pacing, talking to a guard, not even glancing at his phone. Then I realize—the voice in my ear isn’t Sergei at all. It’s low, calm, and so close it sends a shiver down my spine.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” the voice says, eerily gentle.

A chill runs through me. I spin around, the phone slipping from my hand and hitting the stone balcony with a dull thud. Standing there, in the shadows at the edge of the balcony, is Alexei.

35

NIKOLAI

We’re headed back home in one of the black SUVs. The sky outside is painted in shades of orange and pink, but the mood in the car is anything but serene.

Ivan is at the wheel, eyes on the road, knuckles white against the leather. Dmitri sits in the passenger seat, tapping his fingers on his thigh—a restless habit I’ve come to recognize as his mind racing.

We’re doing this. We’re sending Alice away.

The idea feels like a rock in my gut, heavier with each mile we drive.

I clear my throat, and my voice comes out sounding rougher than I intend. “Are we sure about this? Are we being too quick, deciding to send her off?”

Ivan’s grip tightens on the wheel, and I see his jaw flex in the mirror. He doesn’t look at me when he responds. “It’s final, Nikolai.”

Dmitri glances over, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not even going to consider another option? We haven’t exactly told her everything.”

Ivan’s voice is soft as he says, “As much as I love her, it’s the only choice we have.”

---