Page 80
Story: One of Them
All that made me who I am, stuffed into this worn bag. Remembrances of my childhood, but more importantly, facts that painted the full picture.
Mother may have left me for good, but not before she set me up for life.
Always three steps ahead, that woman. Until the past caughtup with her.
My mother, Inna, was born in Odesa, Ukraine, an only child to a working-class family. Her father, a retired army officer, and her mother, who worked at the post office, raised her with love. Growing up by the sea, Inna enjoyed a peaceful childhood. From a young age, she set her sights on becoming a nurse, the first in her family to pursue higher education. Her parents were immensely proud of her achievements.
After graduating, she joined the Red Cross to gain field experience, but it wasn’t long before she caught the attention of the Bratva. With few options, she relocated to Russia, hoping to send money back home to her parents.
The funds allowed my grandparents to retire and enjoy a better life.
Under the rule of Kristian Laurov, the Pakhan at the time, Inna worked her way up to become a member of his medical team. Only a trusted few were allowed to be close to the Pakhan, let alone treat him.
Long story short, they fell in love. Luckily, she left out the details.
They both knew it wasn’t meant to be, yet that didn’t stop them from trying. When you’re wrapped up in feelings, you tend to disregard reason.
With her Ukrainian heritage and father’s duty to marry the daughter of a prominent Russian politician, she would never be accepted. Back then, the organization valued tradition above all. The Pakhan’s wife was a position worthy of those with the right pedigree. So mother became the next best thing: The Black Widow. A legend whispered about in the streets.
Poetic, if you ask me. She found the perfect way to use her knowledge of the human body and stay close to my father without raising suspicion.
Planned or not, I came along. Out of love, but most importantly, out of wedlock. A bastard child of the Pakhan was a threat that couldn’t be ignored. The tension within the Laurov family only grew. The plan was for mom to live in the United States, where I would grow up until I came of age. The big reunion was in sight. Unfortunately, before that ever happened, father was betrayed by his brother, who appointed himself the ruler.
One person’s greed brought misery to all, resulting in bloodshed and the entire Laurov line wiped out in a shootout. A bloody massacre. Family killed by family.
Ilya’s father took over shortly after.
We had a place of our own in the city, far from prying eyes, which spared us the worst of it. When my mother learned what happened, she bottled the rage, forsook the revenge, and took off with baby me. We got on the next plane to New York.
Full of sadness and grief, she swore to hide and protect me. For thirteen long years, we lived undetected thanks to her unique skills.
My grandparents, whom I never met, died and were buried by neighbors, as their only daughter never made it back home. Inna never stepped foot in her own country again. I was all she had left and vice versa.
Father never married. Death found him sooner. With no other children of his own, I was the only surviving family member of the Laurov line. His legitimate heir.
This protected secret was now both a weapon and a curse, revealed to the world. All for one reason: to prevent bloodshed. For those who stood by me when it mattered. For the promise of a future. All in an effort to keep my freedom.
So another person, another child, wouldn’t have to live in a world of secrets and betrayals. I would carry the burdens, all to protect the little worth protecting.
***
The Galkins had a family home where their parents retired. Alisa hid there while her brothers attended the meeting. She was sitting in the back garden with her feet stretched out when we entered, a cup of steaming tea balanced on her thigh. Her hair had grown long, longer than I had ever seen her wear.
Through the glass door, I watched her run to the entrance.
“Where is she?” Her eyes, a familiar green, searched the space.
“Hi there,” I greeted her from behind a wall of Galkin men.
Pushing her brothers aside, Alisa squeezed through, crashing into me with all her might. “I’m so mad at you.”
I kissed her cheek, whispering, “I know.”
An unidentifiable sound escaped her, a mix of laughter and tears.
“Are you crying or laughing? I can’t tell,” I asked, my voice soft.
Maxim and I locked eyes, and the weight of his gaze unsettled me. His presence was both a comfort and a challenge, a reminder of all the unspoken words between us. I closed my eyes and hugged Alisa tighter.
Mother may have left me for good, but not before she set me up for life.
Always three steps ahead, that woman. Until the past caughtup with her.
My mother, Inna, was born in Odesa, Ukraine, an only child to a working-class family. Her father, a retired army officer, and her mother, who worked at the post office, raised her with love. Growing up by the sea, Inna enjoyed a peaceful childhood. From a young age, she set her sights on becoming a nurse, the first in her family to pursue higher education. Her parents were immensely proud of her achievements.
After graduating, she joined the Red Cross to gain field experience, but it wasn’t long before she caught the attention of the Bratva. With few options, she relocated to Russia, hoping to send money back home to her parents.
The funds allowed my grandparents to retire and enjoy a better life.
Under the rule of Kristian Laurov, the Pakhan at the time, Inna worked her way up to become a member of his medical team. Only a trusted few were allowed to be close to the Pakhan, let alone treat him.
Long story short, they fell in love. Luckily, she left out the details.
They both knew it wasn’t meant to be, yet that didn’t stop them from trying. When you’re wrapped up in feelings, you tend to disregard reason.
With her Ukrainian heritage and father’s duty to marry the daughter of a prominent Russian politician, she would never be accepted. Back then, the organization valued tradition above all. The Pakhan’s wife was a position worthy of those with the right pedigree. So mother became the next best thing: The Black Widow. A legend whispered about in the streets.
Poetic, if you ask me. She found the perfect way to use her knowledge of the human body and stay close to my father without raising suspicion.
Planned or not, I came along. Out of love, but most importantly, out of wedlock. A bastard child of the Pakhan was a threat that couldn’t be ignored. The tension within the Laurov family only grew. The plan was for mom to live in the United States, where I would grow up until I came of age. The big reunion was in sight. Unfortunately, before that ever happened, father was betrayed by his brother, who appointed himself the ruler.
One person’s greed brought misery to all, resulting in bloodshed and the entire Laurov line wiped out in a shootout. A bloody massacre. Family killed by family.
Ilya’s father took over shortly after.
We had a place of our own in the city, far from prying eyes, which spared us the worst of it. When my mother learned what happened, she bottled the rage, forsook the revenge, and took off with baby me. We got on the next plane to New York.
Full of sadness and grief, she swore to hide and protect me. For thirteen long years, we lived undetected thanks to her unique skills.
My grandparents, whom I never met, died and were buried by neighbors, as their only daughter never made it back home. Inna never stepped foot in her own country again. I was all she had left and vice versa.
Father never married. Death found him sooner. With no other children of his own, I was the only surviving family member of the Laurov line. His legitimate heir.
This protected secret was now both a weapon and a curse, revealed to the world. All for one reason: to prevent bloodshed. For those who stood by me when it mattered. For the promise of a future. All in an effort to keep my freedom.
So another person, another child, wouldn’t have to live in a world of secrets and betrayals. I would carry the burdens, all to protect the little worth protecting.
***
The Galkins had a family home where their parents retired. Alisa hid there while her brothers attended the meeting. She was sitting in the back garden with her feet stretched out when we entered, a cup of steaming tea balanced on her thigh. Her hair had grown long, longer than I had ever seen her wear.
Through the glass door, I watched her run to the entrance.
“Where is she?” Her eyes, a familiar green, searched the space.
“Hi there,” I greeted her from behind a wall of Galkin men.
Pushing her brothers aside, Alisa squeezed through, crashing into me with all her might. “I’m so mad at you.”
I kissed her cheek, whispering, “I know.”
An unidentifiable sound escaped her, a mix of laughter and tears.
“Are you crying or laughing? I can’t tell,” I asked, my voice soft.
Maxim and I locked eyes, and the weight of his gaze unsettled me. His presence was both a comfort and a challenge, a reminder of all the unspoken words between us. I closed my eyes and hugged Alisa tighter.
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