Page 39 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

“Let’s all take a moment to talk about this,” Aleks interjects, his tone far too diplomatic for the room full of simmering tempers.

Katya takes a step closer to Sofiya, her hand settling protectively on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s fine. We’re leaving.”

“No!” My voice snaps through the room like a whip. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Aleks jumps in again, his tone calm but firm. “Damien, why don’t you show Sofiya your room?”

Katya’s eyes narrow, her voice sharp. “I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

“Worry about yourself for a change,” I snap, my tone as icy as my father’s glare.

“Tell yourmistressto stay the hell out of it,” my father barks, his anger now directed squarely at Katya.

The rage that’s been simmering in my veins boils over. My fists clench, and I have to count to ten just to stop myself from doing something I can’t take back. One wrong word, one wrong move, and I’ll end up strangling the old bastard right here in the living room.

“Sit. Down,” I bark at Katya, my patience hanging by a thread.

She glares at me, pure fire blazing in her green eyes, before shoving past me and dropping onto the couch. Her arms cross tightly over her chest, her entire posture screaming defiance.

The only thing that gives me any relief is watching Damien gently take Sofiya’s hand and lead her to his room. At least the kids won’t have to watch this shitshow.

Once they’re gone, I turn my attention back to my father. My mother sits beside him, silent and submissive, her gaze pinned to a point on the rug. She wasn’t always like this. I remember a time when she had fire in her. Before he extinguished it.

That future—the one where I become my father, and Katya my mother—is a fucking nightmare. I like my women fiery, sharp, and defiant, except when they’re in my bed. There, I’m the one in charge.

“You want to talk?” I say finally, my voice tight with suppressed rage. “Fine. Her name is Katya Volkova.”

My father’s brow furrows slightly, his expression shifting as recognition dawns. “Nikolai’s sister. She was at the wedding.”

“Yes,” I say flatly. “And she’s Sofiya’s mother.”

His eyes narrow at Katya, his suspicion palpable. “Where the fuck do you fit into all this?” he demands, his tone dripping with disdain.

Katya doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay, that’s enough of your bullshit,” she snaps, her voice sharp and clear. “You’ll kindly bring your superiority complex down a notch and address me the way I deserve. From now on, you’ll call me Katya. Or, if you prefer,Honorable Judge Volkova. And if you use the latter, I’d advise you to add a plea—preferably not to fuck up your businesses in Russia, because it wouldn’t take much effort for me to make that happen.”

My mother lets out a nervous chuckle, her lips twitching into a faint smile she quickly tries to suppress.

I want to laugh too, especially at the look of stunned disbelief on my father’s face. No one has ever spoken to him like this. I should probably be concerned, but I’m not. Not even a little. If anything, I’m entertained.

“A judge, huh?” my father finally scoffs, his composure returning. “It’s just what this world needs—another pretentious woman in power.”

“And just what you never had,” Katya fires back, her voice venomous.

It’s reckless—dangerous, even—but I don’t step in. Not yet. Let him see that she’s not afraid of him.

“Is there anyone in your family whose brain functions properly?” my father demands, his fury barely contained. “If you think insulting me is going to get you anywhere, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“No one is insulting anyone,” Aleks cuts in, his voice calm but firm. “I think we should all take a breath and sit down. Calmly.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are?” my father barks, his temper flaring. “A therapist?”

Aleks doesn’t flinch. “I’m the man who drops everything to clean up your messes,” he says evenly. “The one who serves you without complaint. The one son who doesn’t fuck up royally.” He glances at me. “No offense, Igor.”

“None taken,” I reply dryly, smirking as I lean back against the wall. Watching my father take hits from Aleks for once feels like poetic justice.

Because the truth is, we’ve all suffered under his reign. And now? I think it’s time he starts to feel the cracks forming beneath his throne.

My mother opens her mouth, hesitates, then finally speaks. “Aleks is right. We should all calm down and talk about this rationally. I’m sure Igor has a good reason for coming here.”

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