Page 101 of Bratva Bidder

I’m not ready to let him all the way in again.

I want to be ready. God, I want it. But I still remember the nights I held both these babies to my chest and cried because I didn’t know if we’d make it through another day. I remember the promises I made to them—that I’d keep them safe, that I’d never let them be pawns in someone else’s game.

And Konstantin…he’s the king of that game.

He’s trying. I see it. I feel it. In every kiss. In every look. In the way his hands tremble when he touches me like I’m something sacred.

But history doesn’t just vanish because the sex is good.

And my heart doesn’t stop being breakable just because his feels like home.

I lean back into the chair and close my eyes, listening to the soft breathing of my children. Safe. Loved. Asleep.

And I try not to wonder what it would’ve felt like to fall asleep in Konstantin’s bed.

In Konstantin’s arms.

I wake up curled between them. Mila is draped across my arm like a little starfish, warm and breathing softly. Nikolai’s head ispressed to my ribs, his mouth slightly open, one hand thrown above his head in that reckless, careless way he sleeps.

For a moment, I pretend this is all we have to worry about. Morning light. Fuzzy socks. Waffles with too much syrup.

I let myself believe we’re just a normal family, caught in the soft pause of morning. That the shadows haven’t followed us here. That my body doesn’t still ache from Konstantin’s touch, and my heart isn’t twisting from the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes after.

“Mommy,” Mila mumbles, rubbing her nose against my shirt, “is it Saturday?”

“Not yet,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head. “But we can pretend for a little while.”

Nikolai stirs next to me, his brows furrowing in sleep before his eyes flutter open. “Is there school today?”

“No, baby. Not today.” I brush his hair off his forehead.

“Good,” he says, voice groggy. “Can we go outside later?”

“We’ll see,” I say gently, already hearing the faint ring of my phone on the nightstand. I reach for it carefully, trying not to jostle them too much.

Unknown number.

My stomach tightens.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Makarova?”

The voice is calm. Professional. Too calm. “This is Dr. Rhode’s assistant from the pediatric clinic. Could you and Mr. Buryakovreturn to the hospital today? It’s about Nikolai’s results. We need to see you both immediately.”

I sit up, heart knocking against my ribs. “Is he—did something come back?”

“There’s something we didn’t expect,” the doctor says. “Please come as soon as you can.”

Konstantin hasn’t said much. After breakfast, he told Lev to cancel the morning meetings and asked me if I wanted him to come along. His voice was calm. Neutral. But the tension in his jaw hasn’t relaxed since.

When the nurse steps into the room and calls our name, my stomach drops.

The walk back to the doctor’s office feels slow. Heavy. My hand tightens around Nikolai’s, and he gives me a look that says,Mom, you’re squishing me.

Dr. Halberd is a kind man. But it’s the way he doesn’t smile today that sets every nerve in my body on edge.

He greets us softly, asks Nikolai to go sit on the cushioned bench by the window with Mila. There’s a box of toys. They run to it like it’s a treasure chest. I try to mirror their ease. But my heart is already clenching in anticipation.