Page 31 of Mile High Daddy

I nod, my own breathing uneven. “I know.”

9

LILA

The drive to Mikhail’s estate feels like it takes forever.

The city’s sprawling chaos fades into rolling countryside, the kind of lush greenery that belongs in a postcard, not my reality.

I sit stiffly in the back seat, my hands clenched tightly in my lap as Mikhail sits beside me, his presence taking up more space than it should. He doesn’t say much, and I certainly don’t feel like making conversation. My mind is a mess.

When we finally pull up to the estate, my breath catches. It’s massive—bigger than my father’s home, even. The kind of sprawling, opulent estate that screams old money and power. Tall iron gates swing open, revealing a long driveway lined with perfectly manicured trees, leading up to a stone mansion that looks like it was plucked straight out of another century.

I feel a chill as the car comes to a stop, the sheer size of the place making me feel smaller than I already do. The driver opens my door and I step out slowly, my heels clicking softly against the gravel.

“This is your home?” I ask, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice.

“Our ancestral home,” he says simply, his tone unreadable. “It’s been in my family for generations.”

I wrap my arms around myself, the unease creeping in deeper. The grandeur of the place doesn’t feel welcoming—it feels like a trap.

We walk up the grand staircase, the heavy oak doors opening as if they’ve been waiting for us. Inside, it’s just as overwhelming—gleaming marble floors, intricate chandeliers, and towering ceilings that make the space feel like a cathedral.

But it’s cold. Not the temperature, but the atmosphere. Everything is too perfect, too polished, like a museum where I don’t belong.

A woman appears at the top of the staircase, her posture regal, her gaze giving nothing away as her gaze sweeps over me. She’s tall and elegant, her dark hair streaked with gray, pulled back in a severe bun. She descends the stairs slowly, her calculating gaze remaining on me. Dark hair and gray eyes—it doesn’t take me long to figure out who this is.

“Mother,” Mikhail says, his voice respectful.

“So, this is the girl,” she says, her voice smooth but cold.

“I’m Lila,” I say.

She arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Lila,” she repeats, as though tasting the name. “Welcome to our home.”

The words are polite, but there’s no warmth behind them.

I nod awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

Before the silence can stretch too far, another woman enters the room, her smile bright and genuine. She’s shorter than Mikhail’s mother, with softer features and a warmth that instantly puts me slightly more at ease.

“You must be Lila,” she says, her tone kind. “I’m Tatyana, Mikhail’s aunt.”

Her kindness catches me off guard, and I manage a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Tatyana gives me a look that feels almost motherly, a stark contrast to the icy demeanor of Mikhail’s mother. “You must be exhausted,” she says, placing a gentle hand on my arm. “Come, let me show you to your room. You’ll feel better once you’ve had some time to settle in.”

I glance at Mikhail, who gives me a slight nod. “Go with her,” he says.

The staircase seems to stretch endlessly, each step pulling me further into this place that feels like the complete opposite of home. Tatyana chats as we walk, though I can barely focus on her words.

“You’ll find the estate a bit overwhelming at first,” she says with a small laugh. “But it grows on you. Eventually.”

I glance at her, trying to muster a polite smile. “It’s…impressive.”

She pats my arm gently, as though she can sense the weight of my unease. “Impressive is one way to describe it. Intimidating is another. But don’t worry, dear. You’ll find your place here.”

Her words are kind, but they feel hollow. My place? I don’t have a place here.

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