Page 157 of Bratva Bidder

Nikolai lounges on the couch nearby, propped up on a pile of cushions, pale but alert, his soft smile warming the edges of my heart. He’s holding a toy helicopter in one hand, twirling the rotor lazily as he watches us.

This—this moment—it’s everything. I don’t remember the last time I felt this kind of happiness. The kind that isn’t built on adrenaline or rage or strategy, but just…existing.

“Papa, you’re slow!” Mila squeals, bouncing harder, and I pretend to collapse, groaning as if I’ve been defeated.

“You’ve vanquished me,” I rasp, and she roars with laughter, arms thrown wide like a conquering queen.

“Konstantin,” Irina calls from the hallway, her tone exasperated but fond. “You’ll crumple your shirt. The guests will be here any minute.”

I twist my neck to glance down at my wrinkled button-up. Sure, it’s freshly pressed—or it was—but the fabric’s already clinging to me in places it shouldn’t. Mila’s sneakers have probably left little footprints on the back. I could fix it. I probably should.

But I don’t care. Not today.

Let them come and see me like this, with rumpled sleeves and a grin I can’t seem to wipe off. Let them see me alive.

Irina sighs when I don’t move. “Fine. Just don’t blame me when you look like you rolled down a hill.”

“Too late,” I mutter as Mila climbs off, breathless and proud.

I stand, brushing off imaginary dirt, and walk over to Nikolai. He hands me the helicopter without a word, and I give it a little spin. His eyes light up like I just made magic.

“You excited for tonight, buddy?” I ask.

He nods slowly. “Will there be cake?”

I laugh. “There will be cake. And dancing. And maybe a toast or two if someone insists.”

He looks thoughtful. “You should let Mommy talk. She’s better at it.”

“She’s better at everything,” I say, ruffling his hair gently. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

The house has never looked more alive. Flowers spill from tall vases on the dining table. Soft music plays from the speakers, theplaylist Nadya curated herself. There’s a warm scent of roasted garlic and herbed butter wafting in from the kitchen. The patio is lit with lanterns, the long table set with polished silver and cream linens. It’s going to be an epic night.

I glance toward the hallway where Nadya disappeared ten minutes ago. I wonder what dress she’ll wear. I wonder if she knows just how much I’d go to hell and back for her—again and again.

“I want to see the party outside,” Nikolai says, tugging at me.

“Let’s go,” I say, taking the children by their hand and leading them out.

The sky is streaked with shades of amber and rose as the sun begins to dip behind the trees. The backyard is warm with golden light, the garden strung with soft fairy lights and lanterns swaying in the breeze. Tables are set up across the lawn, music low, the scent of grilled food starting to drift from the catering station.

Guests start trickling in through the side gate. Familiar faces. Bratva allies. A few of Nadya’s friends. Irina is already making sure drinks are poured, chatting easily with one of the waitstaff.

Then I spot them—Dmitry and Alexei. They arrive together, but something is off. Dmitry walks ahead, slow and composed as always. Alexei lags a few steps behind, jaw set, eyes forward. There’s no conversation between them, no shared glance. I watch them carefully, instinct ticking in the back of my head.

But then Alexei sees Mila, and his entire face changes. “Mila!” he calls, crouching down as she runs straight into his arms. He scoops her up easily, spinning her once. She shrieks with delight, and even Nikolai perks up.

“Look who’s here,” I tell him.

Alexei walks over with Mila still clinging to his shoulder. “Hey, champ,” he says to Nikolai, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “You look good.”

Nikolai smiles shyly. “I’m okay.”

Alexei sits beside him and pulls out a new sketchbook from under his coat, sliding it onto the kid’s lap. “Thought you might like this.”

“Thanks,” Nikolai says, fingers already flipping through the blank pages.

I glance away as Dmitry approaches. “Impressive setup,” he says, tone neutral.