Chapter 129: Svetlana Dyomina

Kirill Yartsev:

After a few minutes of shock—standing there with my daughter in my arms—the baby was taken from me.

According to the doctor, for her gestational age she was surprisingly well-developed and strong, but she still needed several days in a special incubator under supervision.

And Vicky had worried so much about “gaining weight too fast”… Who could’ve known it would turn out to be a blessing.

While the doctors were stitching up my wife and preparing to transfer her to a room, I was asked to step out. Besides, there were things I needed to handle immediately.

In the hallway, my father and Valentina were waiting. I told them everything had gone relatively well—and that they now had a granddaughter, Solomia.

My father was moved, and Valentina crossed herself with relief, thanking heaven.

We decided to split up. Val would stay with Vicky, and my father and I would head to the hospital where Marina had been taken. Mikhail had already called—she still hadn’t regained consciousness. His team was heading to the scene to look for security footage or witnesses. We needed to know what had happened.

We reached the hospital quickly. Finding the right room wasn’t difficult—Misha and police officers were stationed outside.

After some short negotiations, the doctors finally agreed to let us in to see the victim.

One look at Marina—and I felt my stomach twist. She’d been beaten badly. Her head was wrapped in bandages, her nose broken.

The doctor said she had a mild concussion and wasn’t to be overstimulated.

But right now, the situation was far too serious—my children’s lives were on the line.

“Marina… we need your help,” I said softly but insistently, hoping she’d wake—but nothing.

We stayed in the room for about twenty minutes, speaking to her, but she remained unconscious.

Just as we turned to leave, a faint, hoarse voice stopped us.

“Kirill…?”

Marina winced, eyes still closed.

“Marina, do you remember anything?” I moved to her bedside. “What happened? Who took the kids? Do you know them?”

“Alexandra. Your nanny…” Marina whispered and clutched her head.

“What?” I froze.

Maybe they hit her harder than we thought?

“She never came home,” I said. “They weren’t brought back.”

“Oh, trust me, I figured…” Marina gave a bitter, humorless smile. “I was walking with the boys in the park near your company. Then your nanny found me and said Vicky changed her mind and wanted the kids to stay with her, since you were planning a girls’ evening at your house.”

Her words were slurred from pain, every sentence costing her effort.

“So I handed them over. But after walking a bit, I realized I’d forgotten my wallet in the stroller. I went back—and saw them loading the kids into some filthy old car. Your nanny… and two men who looked absolutely sketchy. I really tried to stop them…”

Tears streamed down her pale face. She was shaken to her core.

“I’m sorry…”

“Hey, Marina,” I squeezed her hand gently. “This isn’t your fault. You did everything you could.”

“I gave them the boys…” Marina sobbed harder, as if she couldn’t hear me at all.

“What’s going to happen to them? Vicky will never forgive me if something happens… I’ll never forgive myself! What if I’ve doomed two innocent babies?!”

“Marina, I will find them,” I told her, my voice steady, though inside everything was collapsing.

“There is no other outcome. Those are my sons.”

While I spoke to Marina, Mikhail was already giving orders over the phone.

My father stood nearby, pale and devastated—probably blaming himself too, since he had insisted on hiring that nanny through the agency.

“That bitch dumped her phone,” Misha growled when we left the room.

“They also found Max unconscious in the car that was tailing the kids. That snake—or whoever she works for—planned it all perfectly. My men are heading to the address listed for her in the paperwork, but you know as well as I do—it’s almost certainly fake.”

“Fck!”

My fist slammed into the nearest wall.

Rage and helplessness boiled inside me like acid.

“Usually, kidnappings are done for ransom,” my head of security mused as we made our way toward the hospital parking lot.

“If we don’t find any more traces, all we can do is wait for the kidnappers to call with their demands.”

“And what if they don’t?!” I stared at him in despair.

“Who could you have crossed this badly?”

“No one that much—no one who’d go as far as kidnapping children!” I barked, trying to run through every possible scenario in my head.

“Our business is legal, and I don’t have deadly enemies. Maybe Koshev?”

“No,” my father cut in, frowning. “He’s a bastard and a slippery snake, yes, but I know him well. He’d never go that far.”

“And what about you?” I asked suddenly, as if something clicked. “Maybe you’re the one who crossed someone too seriously? I’ve been in business far less time than you. Before I took over—were there any incidents?”

I watched my father tense up, his teeth clenching in anger. I didn’t have solid proof, but I was damn sure he’d handled some business matters very harshly—and not always fairly.

“All past incidents were handled and buried,” he grated out. “This has nothing to do with my past.”

I was about to argue when I saw Dasha and Makar approaching us. Their faces were tense but determined.

What the hell were they doing here?

The unspoken question hung in the air as they came closer. Both looked worried—but not hesitant.

“We heard what happened,” Dasha began. “We think… we might be able to help.”

“With what?” I looked at the couple tiredly.

“I have a suspicion who took your children,” Makar said, “and I might even know where they are.”

His words stunned me cold.

“How could you possibly know? Are you working with them?! Did you come here to name the ransom?!” I lunged toward him.

“Listen to him!” Dasha snapped, stepping between us, glaring indignantly.

“So? Who did it?!” I drilled Makar with my stare.

“My mother,” he said flatly.

I saw the muscles in his jaw twitch, his hands curling into fists.

“What? Alexandra is your mother?” I froze as he handed me a photograph.

“I don’t know what name she gave you, but her real name is Svetlana. Svetlana Dyomina.”

His eyes locked onto my father, who suddenly stiffened, paling a little as he stared back at Makar.

“She was always a brunette—but she could have dyed her hair. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“But why would your mother want my children?” I asked, staring at the photo.

It was indeed Alexandra—but with a different hairstyle and darker hair.

“For revenge,” Dasha’s husband exhaled, and she squeezed his hand tighter.

“But revenge for what?”

“Because Oleg dumped her when she was pregnant with me,” Makar said—and the way he threw that at my father hit like a grenade.