Page 133 of Mile High Daddy

“Dad?” My voice is barely a whisper.

He smiles.

Like this is all normal.

My legs feel unsteady, like the ground beneath me has shifted, like reality itself is cracking open and exposing something I never wanted to see.

My father.

Here.

With Ryan.

My father smiles, hands still tucked into his pockets, casual as ever, like we’re just having a family chat. He’s not surprised to see me here. Because this was always the plan.

I shake my head, stepping back like I can somehow distance myself from the twisted reality in front of me. “What…what the hell is this?”

My father exhales, almost like he’s disappointed in me. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t act so shocked. You had to know I’d had enough of Mikhail humiliating me.”

Humiliating him?

I stare at him, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“You’re blaming Mikhail?” I hiss. “You sold me off like a fucking bargaining chip!”

He waves a hand, brushing it off like it’s nothing. “You’re being dramatic, Lila.”

“Dramatic?” I laugh, but it’s sharp, bitter. “You’re standing here, plotting God knows what, with a man who literally has a gun on me, and I’m dramatic?”

Ryan smirks, shifting his weight. “She’s got a point.”

My father gives him a sharp look, then turns back to me, his face smoothing out again, like he’s trying to play the reasonable one. “Lila, Mikhail is not the man you think he is.”

“Oh, and you are?” I snap.

His expression hardens. “I’ve played the role long enough. I was never meant to be beneath him. I deserve more.”

My mind spins, my breath coming in short, fast bursts.

He’s angry. He’s always been bitter about the fact that Mikhail holds more power than he ever did. But this?

This is something else entirely.

“You don’t get it,” he continues. “Mikhail doesn’t respect me. And I can’t allow that anymore. He needs to know who the real deal is.”

My stomach turns. “He gave you an alliance.”

“He gave me a leash!” My father’s voice rises, the calm slipping for the first time. “He thinks he owns me. Thinks he can dictate my business, my territory, my every move. And I played along—” He exhales, a bitter smile curving his lips. “Until I didn’t.”

A slow dread creeps up my spine.

I piece it together instantly.

The previous attack. The gunfire. The blood. The ambush that nearly killed Mikhail the night I left him.

My stomach drops.

“It was you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

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