Ruthless Daddies (Reverse Harem Daddies)

26. Dmitri

26

DMITRI

T he halls of the estate are usually quiet at this hour, but as I round the corner on my way to the study, the sharp sound of raised voices cuts through the stillness. My steps slow, curiosity piqued. It’s not every day someone disrupts the sanctity of Ivan’s well-ordered household.

Then comes the unmistakable sound of a slap—a crack that echoes like a gunshot. I pause, my head tilting slightly, my curiosity transforming into intrigue.

I follow the voices, rounding the corner just as I catch sight of them—Svetlana and Alice.

Svetlana stands with one hand pressed to her cheek, her face twisted in a mix of shock and fury. Alice, on the other hand, looks like a firecracker about to explode, her cheeks flushed, her shoulders squared.

“I’ve had enough of your nonsense,” she snaps, her voice steady and sharp. “You don’t own Ivan. And you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Little minx, this one. Who knew she had it in her?

Before I can enjoy the show any longer, Nikolai strides up, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern in a heartbeat. “What’s happening here?” he asks.

I glance at him, smirking. “Just a little drama,” I say casually, gesturing toward the two women.

His gaze flicks between them, his brows furrowing.

“What the hell is going on?” Nikolai asks again, his voice sterner now.

“Ask her,” Svetlana spits, jerking her head toward Alice. “Your precious little nanny slapped me.”

Alice doesn’t flinch. If anything, she looks more resolute, her eyes blazing as she stares Svetlana down.

“She deserved it,” Alice says simply, her tone even.

I bite back a laugh. Brave girl.

Nikolai looks between them, clearly torn between annoyance and disbelief. “Would someone care to explain why this happened?”

Alice crosses her arms, meeting his gaze. “Svetlana insulted me. Called me a sneak, and a bitch. And I’m not going to stand and listen to her yap.”

“How dare you—” Svetlana starts.

“Enough,” Nikolai says. He turns to Svetlana, his voice low and dangerous. “Is that true? What she said?”

Svetlana huffs, her fingers tightening on her cheek. “She was eavesdropping! I caught her lurking around, and she slapped me for no reason!”

I step forward, unable to resist adding my two cents. “She slapped you because you can’t keep your mouth in check,” I say lightly, my smirk widening. “And from the looks of it, you had it coming.”

Svetlana glares at me, but I don’t care.

“Why don’t you ask her what she’s doing here?” Alice says.

Nikolai’s eyes narrow as he looks at Svetlana, his usual patience running thin. “Well?” he asks.

For a split second, I catch it—a flicker of something in Svetlana’s expression. Fear? Guilt? She pales visibly, and that alone makes my gut tighten. This is Svetlana. She’s not one to back down or shy away from conflict. She should be throwing a tantrum, protesting, doubling down on whatever nonsense she was spewing at Alice. But instead, she looks cornered.

“I’m here to see Ivan,” she finally says, her voice huffy but lacking its usual venom.

“I think she’s lying,” Alice says quietly.

I glance between them before I turn to Svetlana. “Ivan’s busy. He’s not meeting anyone today.”

“But—” she protests.

“No,” I say with a finality.

“Fine, whatever.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and turns on her heel, stalking away with as much dignity as she can muster.

My eyes follow her until she disappears around the corner, and then I glance at Alice. She’s still standing tall, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes now.

“What was all that about?” I ask, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall.

Alice shakes her head, her gaze flicking away from mine. “I think she’s hiding something.”

“What?” I say.

“I’m not sure…well, never mind.”

“Never mind? Alice, if you heard something, you need to tell us,” I say.

She meets my gaze briefly before looking away again. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions but I would want to see who she was talking to just now. She seemed very jumpy when she saw me.”

Her words don’t sit right with me.

Svetlana thinks with her tits more than her brain, and she’s always been more of a nuisance than a real problem. She can’t possibly be a threat.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Nikolai’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, his tone light but curious.

I glance at him, shaking my head. “Nothing,” I lie.

He doesn’t press, which is rare for him, but I’m grateful. My mind is too tangled to make sense of everything, and the last thing I need is Nikolai digging into it right now.

As soon as he and Alice walk away, I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts, my thumb hovering over one name in particular—Karpov, my private investigator. I’ve kept him on retainer for years, and he’s proven reliable more times than I can count. If anyone can dig into Svetlana’s sudden shift—or anything else brewing beneath the surface—it’s him.

The phone rings twice before he answers. “Karpov,” he says, his voice clipped.

“It’s Dmitri,” I say, keeping my tone low. “I need you to keep tabs on Svetlana.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Already on it,” he says, his voice careful.

That catches my attention. “You have something?”

Karpov hesitates, and that hesitation tells me everything I need to know.

“If you had news,” I snap, “why didn’t you call me before?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he clears his throat. “Because…because it’s delicate.”

Delicate? Fear. That’s what it is. He’s afraid.

I lean back against the wall, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Spit it out,” I say, my patience running thin. “What did you want to say?”

Another pause, and then: “It’s about Elena.”

My chest tightens. “What about her?”

“She was seeing someone,” Karpov says finally. “During her marriage.”

The words hit me like a fist to the gut. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s not just a rumor,” Karpov continues. “I’ve been piecing things together, looking into her movements before her death. There are records—hotel stays, private meetings. It wasn’t just a fling, Dmitri. It went on for a while.”

I can feel the blood rushing to my head, my hands clenching into fists. “And you didn’t think to tell me this sooner?”

“It’s not just that,” Karpov says quickly, as if sensing my rising anger. “There’s more.”

“More?” I snap. “You’d better start talking, Karpov, or I’ll make sure you regret wasting my time.”

There’s a long pause, the kind that makes my stomach churn. “The twins,” he says. “It’s possible…they don’t belong to Ivan.”