Page 53 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

“That’s okay—” Igor begins, but his father cuts him off.

“Your mother’s right,” Dimitri says, straightening his tie and giving Igor a pointed look. “Dr. Tolliver is a busy person. We should respect her time.”

Igor’s jaw tightens, and his eyes flash with irritation. “I said we’ll take him.As a family.”

Dimitri’s chair scrapes against the floor as he sits straighter, pushing the last of his eggs around on his plate. “Don’t you want to bond with your daughter, you insufferable?—”

“Father!” Aleks cuts in, his voice sharp with desperation as he tries to defuse the brewing storm. “They don’t need our help.”

Mikhail snorts from the other end of the table. “Of course. That’s why they moved in here, right? Their independence is truly inspiring.”

“Katya,” Igor says through gritted teeth, his tone low but seething with restrained anger. “The kids should finish getting ready.”

I tap Damien and Sofiya lightly on their knees, urging them to stand.

Damien keeps his head down, his small shoulders tense. Even at seven years old, he can sense the tension brewing in the room, the unspoken war bubbling beneath the surface. It kills me to see him like this, scared to even look at anyone.

Sofiya, in contrast, remains calm and composed. She slides off her chair with her usual grace, taking her glass of apple juice with her. After a small sip, she reaches for my hand with her left and Damien’s with her right, guiding us out of the dining room.

I pause at the threshold, turning back to the table.

They’re all watching us—the powerful, calculating Sokolovs, each of them a product of this brutal, conflict-driven world. I offer them my warmest, most charming smile—the perfectpoker face. But inside, I’m unraveling. These people only know violence, manipulation, and control. Is this the company Igor wants his children to grow up with? Is this the life Sofiya and Damien are doomed to inherit?

Can I save Sofiya from it?

Or will we all be swallowed whole by this madness?

There’s only one way to find out.

“Go upstairs,” I tell Damien once we’re out of the dining room, repeating the instruction in sign language for Sofiya. “I’ll be right there.”

Even as I watch them scurry up the stairs, a sharpcrashechoes from the dining room. The unmistakable sound of glass shattering cuts through the air, followed by Igor’s raised voice.

I freeze, holding my breath.

The argument erupts like a wildfire. Voices overlap, everyone shouting over one another, but Igor’s is the loudest. His curses, sharp and furious, ring out in Russian as he hurls accusations at his father. The venom in his words is impossible to ignore, and before I can make sense of what’s happening, I hear him storming out of the dining room.

I don’t wait to find out if he’s coming for me.

I hurry up the stairs, Damien and Sofiya meeting me halfway. Their wide eyes and nervous expressions tell me everything I need to know—they’ve sensed the chaos, and it’s already left them uneasy.

Without a word, I take their hands and lead them outside.

We reach the car, where four of the Sokolov men are loitering. They straighten as soon as they see us, hurriedly stubbing out their cigarettes like they weren’t just slacking off.

“There you are,” Igor says, appearing behind us. His voice is calm, but the tension in his posture betrays his lingering anger. “Let’s go.”

He’s visibly on edge, his irritation still simmering after the blowout with his family. I rush to secure Sofiya and Damien in their car seats, double-checking the belts.

“First stop, Damien’s office,” Igor says as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

Damien giggles. “It’s not an office, Papa. I’m still in school, you know.”

Igor winks at him in the rearview mirror. “It’s an office for young boys.”

The warmth in his tone, the easy smile on his face—it’s jarring. This is the side of Igor I didn’t think existed. The side that makes me hesitate, makes me doubt everything I’ve told myself about him.

I glance out the window, trying to ignore the way my cheeks flush when his voice drops again, low and teasing.