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Liabilities. He speaks of his own flesh and blood so callously. But why should I expect anything different from him? When have I ever been more than a pawn to be used and discarded?
“Emiliana!” I scream, fighting against their hands, trying to open the door to the back seat. “Not without my daughter. No! Not without my daughter!”
I surge forward, wrenching my arms free. “I won’t let you take her away from me!” I cry. “She’s just a little girl, she’s done nothing wrong!”
My father’s expression darkens, his eyes flashing with anger. In one swift movement, he exits the car and strikes me hard across the face. The crack echoes in the small space.
Pain explodes across my cheek, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth. I reel back, stunned. From within the car, Emiliana lets out a muffled sob. “Mammaaa!” she shrieks.
“You will do as you’re told,” my father hisses. “Or you will face the consequences.”
I stare at him, cheek pulsing. The mask has slipped. This is the true monster behind the urbane facade—cruel, ruthless, and unforgiving.
Suddenly, tires skid, and doors are flung open. Shouts and gunshots split the air.
My heart leaps. Can it be?
“Bunny!”
It’s him. Mikhail. My love, my heart. Here to save us. He saw everything.
His eyes search mine urgently. “Are you hurt?”
Before I can answer, my father shoves the barrel of the gun against my temple and pulls me back by the hair. “Don’t come any closer!” he warns.
Mikhail freezes. His jaw tightens, eyes flaring with rage as he takes in the scene.
“Let her go,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “This is between you and me.”
My father barks out a harsh laugh. “You think you can stop me? I’ll put a bullet in their heads before you can even blink.” He then shakes his head to the side, and Mikhail and I both look at Emiliana, being forced out of the car under gunpoint by one of my father’s men.
“Sweetheart…” Mikhail moans, trying to reach for her. In this moment, I know he recognizes his daughter.
But how?
My father pulls me closer to Emiliana under gunpoint. Then, he takes the gun from his associate and forces me to hold Emiliana’s hand. He holds us both under the threat of the bullet.
To prove his point, he jams the gun harder against my skin. I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut. Beside me, Emiliana whimpers in fear.
“Ah, Mikhail Zolotov,” my father sneers, stepping forward after pushing us with an air of arrogance. “You think you can take what belongs to me?”
“Your daughter and granddaughter are not your property,” Mikhail growls, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously.
“Let them go, or you’ll regret it,” Ivan adds, his towering frame looming over my father. Behind him, Sergei is watching every move, on guard to attack.
“Mikhail—” I take this moment, fearing I may not have another. “Mikhail, I never meant to hurt you. I was never aware of my father’s plans. I—”
“Shut up, stupid cunt!” my father roars, smacking the barrel of the gun into my temple. I try not to cry out, to not scare Emiliana, but I can feel a trickle of blood slip down from my temple.
Mikhail lurches forward, face contorted with fury. “If you touch my wife again—” he roars.
“You’ll what?” my father asks, pulling back the safety guard. “I’ll kill your wife and your fucking daughter.”
“No.” I begin to cry.
“Mamma!” Emiliana yells, panicking. She tries to reach out to me. My father extends his hand forward, blocking her way. He looks down at the six-year-old with a sneer and I can see the emotions boiling in his veins. In an instant Emiliana lashes out, kicking him as hard as she can.
My father’s eyes widen in fury and he snarls deeply as he throws her a few feet forward. She hits the ground hard and Ihear her whimper in pain as I watch in horror at how my father’s display of anger unfolds. Sergei tries running toward Emiliana, but one of my father’s men grabs her.
