Page 177 of Merciless Daddy

Yelena stood slowly.

I pointed to the space.

“Face the wall, little one.”

She walked there.

Her shoulders were straight at first. Bratva-princess posture. Perfect. Untouchable.

“Hands relaxed at your sides,” I said.

She let them fall.

“Feet comfortable. You are not required to stand rigidly.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I sat in the armchair behind her, close enough that she could hear the shift of my clothes and the turn of a page. I did not actually read.

The clock began. Yelena stared at the wall. After a minute, she said, “This is stupid.”

“Yep.”

“I could be helping.”

“You could. You are not.”

“That is the problem.”

“No,” I said softly. “The problem is that you believe helping only counts if it hurts you.”

Her shoulders tensed. I did not add more time.

At three minutes, she moved her hand behind her back. I spoke before her fingers could knot together.

“Hands at your sides.”

She obeyed.

At five minutes, her breathing changed.

Small. Uneven.

At seven, I heard her sniff once.

I kept my voice low.

“This is not abandonment.”

Her head lowered.

“You are here because Daddy asked for the truth, and you tried to disappear into usefulness instead.”

The first quiet sob moved through her shoulders. I did not go to her yet. The ten minutes belonged to the boundary. To the truth of it.

But I remained behind her the whole time.

Close.