Page 50 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

He pulls out a coloring sheet from the nightstand drawer, showing it to me with a proud smile. I glance at Katya, catching the slight nod she gives him. Sofiya, though, remains quiet, her piercing gaze locked onto me, studying my every move. It’s unnerving how much of her mother I see in her—silent, calculating, defiant in her little girl kind of way.

“Good boy,” I say, ruffling Damien’s hair before turning my attention back to Katya. “It’s time. Tell her.”

Her eyes narrow, and the disbelief mingling with fury is impossible to miss. She’s furious, yes, but she’s also processing the bomb I’ve just dropped. She starts slowly, her voice soft, her hands moving in sign language as she locks her attention on Sofiya.

“Sofiya, sweetie,” Katya signs and speaks, her tone warm and full of affection, “you know I love you, right?”

Sofiya’s face softens immediately, her small hands reaching out to wrap around Katya’s neck in a hug. A tiny smile breaks across her lips, and for a moment, it feels like the world stops spinning. The love Sofiya has for her mother is so pure, so unconditional, it almost hurts to watch.

Katya chuckles softly, kissing the top of Sofiya’s head before pulling back a bit.

“Get on with it,” I murmur, careful to keep my voice low. The last thing I want is to startle Damien, who’s watching us intently.

Katya meets my gaze briefly, her irritation flickering like a spark before she turns back to Sofiya.

“This man,” she continues, pointing to me, “is your papa.”

The words land like a stone in the quiet room.

I watch Sofiya carefully, waiting for her to process what she’s just been told. Her blue eyes widen, darting from Katya to me, and back again. Her hands start to tremble slightly, her little body frozen as the realization begins to sink in.

Damien, however, reacts immediately. “So you’re not my papa anymore?” he asks, his small voice trembling with a mix of confusion and sadness.

I shift my focus to him, gently cupping his face in my hands. “I’m your papa, and I always will be,” I tell him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “But I’m also Sofiya’s papa. I hope you’re happy to have a baby sister.”

His wide, sad eyes search mine for a moment before his face brightens. “Yes!” he exclaims, throwing his little arms around my neck.

I chuckle, ruffling his hair as relief floods through me. “Good boy,” I murmur, kissing the top of his head before glancing at Sofiya. “Now let’s see what your sister has to say to this.”

But Sofiya’s reaction is… different.

Her hands fly into motion, signing so fast it takes a moment for me to register the sharpness of her movements. Her little face twists in confusion, her gestures frantic and almost angry. It’s like watching a storm build inside her, the weight of her emotions too much for her small body to contain.

“What is she saying?” I ask, my voice clipped as I turn to Katya.

Katya reaches out, gently holding Sofiya’s trembling hands. “Calm down, honey,” she says softly, signing the words as she speaks them aloud. “Your hands are shaking. He’s not going to take you away.”

I let out a low breath, my patience fraying as Katya’s words do little to ease Sofiya’s turmoil.

“What is she saying?” I repeat, my tone sharper this time.

Katya finally meets my gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. “She’s not happy,” she says bluntly. “She asked if Aleks could be her papa instead.”

The words slam into me like a fist to the gut.

“You’re lying,” I growl, my voice low and venomous.

“I’m not,” Katya says, lifting her chin in defiance. “She’s five, Igor. She doesn’t know how to process this. I told you we should give her time to adjust.”

Her defiance only fuels my frustration, but I force myself to remain composed. I glance at Sofiya, who’s now clutching Katya’s hand while reaching for Damien’s with the other. Her small frame seems to shrink, and the sight of it—of herwithdrawing from me—leaves something hollow and heavy in my chest.

“This isn’t over,” I say through gritted teeth.

I rise from the bed, my movements stiff as I turn and leave the room. The door slams shut behind me, rattling the walls.

My daughter doesn’t know it yet, but she needs me.

And so does Katya, whether she’s ready to admit it or not.

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