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“Come sit with me,” she says, patting the couch beside her.
I settle next to her, close enough that our thighs touch, and pick up a pair of impossibly small socks. “How is it possible that feet can be this tiny?”
“I know. Sometimes I can’t believe there’s actually a whole person growing inside me.” She rests her hand on the curve of her belly. “A person we made together.”
The wonder in her voice makes me turn to study her profile. There’s something different about her today, like a sense of purpose or determination I haven’t seen before. It occurs to me Maksim was right about the conversation she’s planning to have. “Sabrina, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She sets down the dress and turns to face me fully, her expression becoming serious. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you too. Something important.”
“You first,” I say, though every instinct tells me to take control of this conversation before it goes somewhere I can’t navigate.
She takes a breath, gathering her thoughts, and I can see her steeling herself for whatever she’s about to say. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our future, what kind of life I want for our daughter, and what I need to feel safe building that life with you.”
The careful way she phrases it tells me she’s rehearsed this and thought through every word. I force myself to remain still and let her speak, even though part of me wants to interrupt and give her the answers she’s seeking.
“I love you,” she says simply, and the words are sweet and daunting at the same time. “I’m in love with you, completely andprobably foolishly, but there it is. I love you, and I want to build a real life together. Not just co-parenting or keeping things civil for the baby’s sake, but everything together.”
My heart pounds as I process what she’s telling me. She loves me. After everything I’ve put her through, everything I’ve dragged her into, she’s choosing to love me anyway.
“But,” she continues, and I hear the determination in her voice, “I need to know you’re willing to leave your business behind. Completely. Not delegate more but actually walk away from all of it.”
The condition doesn’t surprise me, but hearing it spoken aloud makes it real in a way it hasn’t been before. “If I’m not willing?”
Pain flickers across her face, but her voice remains steady. “Then I’ll raise our daughter alone, and you can be the kind of father who sees her if it’s safe to do so.”
The thought of weekend visits and carefully scheduled time with my own child makes something violent and desperate claw at my chest. “You’d really walk away from this? From us?”
“I’d have to.” Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. “I won’t raise my child in a world where violence is always lurking around the corner, and every knock at the door could be a threat. She deserves better than that. We both do.”
The raw honesty in her voice undoes me completely. She’s not issuing an ultimatum or trying to manipulate me into compliance. She’s simply telling me what she needs to feel safe and trusting me to decide whether I can give it to her. “What if I told you I’ve already made that choice?”
She blinks, clearly not expecting that response. “What do you mean?”
I reach for her hands, needing the physical connection as I prepare to lay my entire future at her feet. “For the past few weeks, I’ve been systematically dismantling everything I’ve built by transitioning to legitimate businesses when possible, transferring territory, liquidating assets, and setting up succession plans that will let me walk away completely.”
“You have?”
“Maksim is taking over everything. The transition will be complete within a year, and after that, I’ll have no connection to any of it.” I bring her hands to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I’m done, Sabrina. I chose you and our daughter the moment I saw her on that ultrasound screen.”
The tears she’s been holding back finally spill over, and she launches herself into my arms with a force that nearly knocks me backward. I catch her against my chest, holding her tightly while she cries into my shoulder.
“I can’t believe you were already planning this,” she says between sobs. “I was so scared you’d say no.”
“Never.” I stroke her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want this life with you.”
She pulls back to look at me, her face streaked with tears but radiant with something that looks like joy. “You really mean it? You’re really walking away from all of it?”
“I really mean it. No more syndicate, no more territory wars, and no more violence. Just us and our daughter and whatever normal life we can build together.”
“I love you so much,” she whispers, framing my face with her hands. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”
“Don’t be terrified.” I lean my forehead against hers, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what’s happening between us. “Be happy, excited… Anything but terrified.”
“I am happy. I’m so happy I can barely breathe.”
When she kisses me, it’s with all the love and hope and desperate longing that’s been building between us since that first night. Her mouth is soft and warm and tastes like the future we’re finally free to claim.
I should pull away and suggest we continue this conversation to make sure we’ve covered all the practical details that need to be discussed. Instead, when she tangles her fingers in my hair and makes that soft sound of need against my lips, rational thought abandons me entirely.