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I lean into him, closing my eyes for a second, letting his warmth sink into me.
We came back to New York a few weeks after the twins were born because it was the only way to keep me safe. But Mikhail moved us out of that house. Away from his mother. Away from everything that poisoned him.
We live here now. In a place that is ours.
I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, and something flickers across his face—something warm and dangerously soft.
I swallow hard, because I still remember the last time we stood in his family home.
The air in the house was thick, suffocating.
Mikhail’s mother stood in the grand entryway, her gaze sweeping over me like I was something unworthy of her time.
“You brought her back,” she said, voice cool and even.
Mikhail’s grip on my back was steady, unshakable. “She’s my wife.” His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the warning beneath it. “And the mother of my children.”
His mother studied him, then me, like she was deciding whether to waste her energy on the conversation. Finally, she let out a small, clipped sigh. “She made a fool of you.”
Mikhail’s entire body went rigid.
I opened my mouth to respond, but he was already speaking.
“If anyone made a fool of me,” he said, his voice low, measured, dangerous, “it was you, Mother.”
The words landed between them like a knife.
For the first time, her carefully crafted expression slipped, just slightly. It wasn’t shock—Mikhail was still her son, after all—but it was the first time he had defied her outright.
She exhaled, tilting her head just slightly. “You really believe she deserves to stand at your side after what she did?”
Mikhail didn’t even hesitate.
“I don’t care what you think she deserves,” he said, his tone like iron. “Because she’s mine. And no one—not you, not anyone—will come between us again.”
Something darkened in her expression. “You can’t keep me away from my grandbabies. I gave you everything you needed. You can’t keep me away from my heirs.”
“They’re our children first,” Mikhail says.
I caught the look on her face. She knew then.
She had lost.
A week later, we left that house for good.
Now I rest my head against Mikhail’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. The nursery is dim, the soft glow from the night-light casting golden shadows across the room. The twins are fast asleep, tiny fists curled close to their faces, completely unaware of the empire they were born into.
His mother’s words won’t leave me.
“You can’t keep me away from my heirs.”
I inhale slowly, pressing my fingers to Mikhail’s chest. “Do you think she’ll try to take them?”
Mikhail stills behind me. I feel the tension coil in his body, the way his fingers twitch where they rest on my waist.
Then, he exhales, his hold gentling, pulling me closer. “No one is taking them from you, Lila.”
I bite my lip. “She sees them as part of her legacy, Mikhail. She called them her heirs.”