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Her eyebrows lift slightly— the only visible reaction to what must be an unexpected statement. For Stella, I would endure much worse than facing a woman I jilted at the altar. Stella wants her sister in her life, which means I must find a way to deal with this mess.

“This arrangement is purely for Stella’s benefit,” I add, wanting no misunderstandings. “She believes having you in her life— in Polina’s life— is important.”

Sofia studies me for a long moment, as if searching for the trap beneath my words. “And you’re… okay with this? After everything?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with our complicated history. The arranged marriage. The public rejection. Her attempts to undermine my business with Gianni. The poisoning attempt on Stella.

“I’m practical,” I answer finally. “You’re Stella’s blood. That makes you family, regardless of our past. Family is important to me.”

Sofia doesn’t respond immediately, her fingers tracing the edge of the armrest. “I won’t disrupt your lives or cause any trouble,” she says finally. “I’ve had time to think since… the forest. I understand now that my actions were wrong.”

The sincerity in her voice surprises me. I expected manipulation, maybe an attempt to leverage her new status for advantage. Instead, I see something I recognize from my own mirror— the face of someone who has stared into the abyss and returned changed.

“Your emotional state is a problem,” I say bluntly. “I’m willing to facilitate professional help. Therapy, medication, whatever specialists recommend.”

Sofia looks genuinely startled by this offer. “Why would you do that?”

Sofia doesn’t know it, but I’m partially responsible for her broken state. This offer is as much penance as it is family duty. I can never tell her I killed her father— that revelation would destroy any chance of peace between us— but I can attempt to mitigate the damage I’ve caused.

“Because you’re important to Stella,” I say instead. “And because no one should face those demons alone.”

Something shifts in her expression— a slight softening around the eyes, a barely perceptible relaxation of her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “I would… appreciate that help.”

I nod, moving to the next practical matter. “Until you recover, you’re welcome to stay in the manor. The guest suite in the Left Wing can be yours for the time being.”

“That’s very generous,” she says, genuine surprise coloring her voice.

“We’ll need to establish certain boundaries,” I continue, maintaining the businesslike tone that seems to be working. “Security protocols, scheduled family time, gradual integration. But those details can be worked out with time.”

Sofia’s composure slips slightly, revealing the depth of her loneliness. “I’ve never really had a family before. Not a real one. My father was…” She stops, pain flashing across her features at the mention of Sergei.

Guilt twists in my gut again. I push it down, focusing on the present. “This is unusual for both of us,” I acknowledge. “But for Stella’s sake, we’ll make it work.”

“For Stella,” she agrees, then adds hesitantly, “and for Polina, too. I’d like to know my niece.”

The word “niece” sounds strange coming from her lips, but not unwelcome. Despite everything, I find myself feeling like this arrangement might actually work. Sofia’s suicide attempt suggests she’s hit rock bottom; sometimes that’s whereredemption begins. I’ve seen it in Bratva members, in business associates, in myself.

“One step at a time,” I say, rising from my chair to show our meeting is ending. “We’ll start with your recovery, then build from there.”

She stands as well, smoothing her skirt with hands that tremble slightly— a tell she would have never allowed before. “I know you’re doing this for Stella, not for me,” she says. “But I appreciate it anyway.”

I move around the desk, reducing the physical barrier between us. It’s a calculated gesture of trust, though I remain alert to any sign of deception. Old habits die hard.

“We both care about Stella,” I say. “That’s enough common ground to begin with.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “But do not, for one moment, think this gives you special privileges, Sofia,” I say quietly, an undertone of menace evident. “These people are my world. If you do anything to harm any one of them, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

Her expression flickers, and I wait for a sign of the old Sofia’s manipulation to surface. It doesn’t. “I understand. I would never—”

“Of course you would never,” I continue in the same quiet tone. “Because if I ever hear even the slightest rumor of what goes on in these walls, if one word of Bobik’s existence starts to circulate…” I lean forward slightly. “They would never, ever find your body, Sofia.”

Her face pales and her throat works. Her head bobs quickly. She licks suddenly dry lips. “It will never happen, Aleksei. Not from my mouth. I swear it.”

I narrow my eyes on her face for a moment, still looking for those old patterns of deceit. All I see is a scared, broken woman. Broken, in part, because of me. I straighten.

“Good,” I say briskly. “Then we will get along just fine.”

Sofia nods, then extends her hand in a formal gesture that acknowledges our new, cautious alliance. I take it briefly, the handshake sealing our unusual arrangement.