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Pointing a finger at Grigory accusingly, my face hardened. “Was this your genius plan, Lukin? To sell me used goods. I won’t raise another man’s child. This marriage isn’t happening.”
The hurt look scurried across Mila’s face, but I couldn’t focus on it. I looked at Ivan, hoping to see his resolve, but I only saw curiosity stitching between his features.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself now,” Ivan muttered, gazing at the child.
Still crying, the little girl clung to her mother, but she met Ivan’s eye. Fearful tears streaked down her cheeks, her chest frantic from how hard she cried.
Silently, Ivan approached her, dropping down to her level. Carefully, he brought a thumb up to wipe her tears. “There’s no reason to cry, little one.”
Scoffing, I hated how easy it was for Ivan since he had become a father. The new title made him soft, and he surely couldn’t handle the sight of crying children anymore. The once tough man, and head of our family, turned to mush from a little girl.
I expected the child to keep crying at the sight of his mean mug, but she stopped and only sniffled. She looked at him almost hopefully.
Ivan’s brows came together as he gently put a thumb against her chin and turned her head to the side. Then, the other, until he inspected her completely. Ivan pulled back with a laugh laced with disbelief.
He stood to his full height and looked at me. “Have you met Mila before? And don’t bother lying.”
Panic gripped my heart, but there was no getting out of it then. The implication of his question was like a slap to the face. I swallowed.
“Yes.”
Ivan glanced at Mila, brows raised, his way of silently asking the same question.
Mila sighed and nodded slowly, running a hand through the girl’s hair. “Yes. We’ve met.”
Ivan chuckled, crossing his arms. “I’ve had to look at dozens of pictures of us as children. I know what we looked like then, and there’s no mistaking how closely she resembles us. I bet she’s one of ours, from our bloodline. She’s a spitting image of Nikolai when he was that age, and she has our mother’s eyes.”
A confused jumble of anger and vague hope tangled within my heart, forcing me to question it for myself. Gazing at the little girl for myself, I couldn’t deny our similarities either. Ivan was likely right.
My daughter stood before me. One I never knew I had.
“It is likely,” I muttered, unable to take my eyes away from the girl. As if a world of new possibilities had just opened up to me, my chest lightened. But the unexpectedness of it all was difficult to ignore.
Grigory chuckled to himself, rubbing his palms together with a keen glimmer in his eyes. “I was going to promise to get rid of the brat, but now it’s a two-for-one deal. This should mean a lot to you since you already have an heir.”
The sound of his voice grated against my skull, and I grit my teeth. The man was nothing more than a conniving snake, and I hated him already. I wouldn’t mind sending my fist through his teeth.
Anger rose to the top of my head, and I snapped. “Everyone out, except for Mila and the girl. We need to talk alone.”
Ivan nodded, seemingly understanding, and the others followed. Lukin did so reluctantly, and soon enough, only the three of us remained.
My gaze fell on Mila, eyes sharpened by my resolve. I pointed to the girl. “Is she mine?”
All resistance melted away from Mila’s face then, and she averted her eyes, arms wrapped around herself. She nodded wordlessly and chewed the inside of her lip. “After I found out I was pregnant, I had no choice. I ran away and didn’t tell you.”
“And what, you became Milly Lucas just so I couldn’t find you again?” I snapped back, fixated on the small signs of emotions that scurried across her face.
“I never meant—”
Even just looking at her then, realizing the full extent of her betrayal, made everything seem all the worse. I shook my head, knowing that if I stayed in the room with her, I’d do something I would regret.
“You always have a choice,” I returned bitterly, fists clenched at my sides.
Before I could say or do anything else, I tore away from her and stalked over to the door, leaving without another word. It slammed behind me, and I pictured one of the crystal chandeliers rocking inside from the force.
Not willing to look at any of them, I shoved my way passed them, and stormed down the hall.
Grigory Lukin’s voice called out to me—smug and dripping with his appeasement.
