Page 171 of His Forced Bride

My brother doesn't apologize or admit error easily, especially regarding family decisions.

His acknowledgment that Inessa belongs among us represents a fundamental shift in how she'll be treated by our extended network.

"I misjudged the situation entirely," he continues, and it's as close to an apology as I'll ever hear.

"The family is stronger for having waited," I agree, though privately, I remember how close we came to following his preferred approach.

I pat Inessa's hand and place a soft kiss on top of her head.

Inessa accepts a glass of wine from Rosa, who moves through the gathering ensuring everyone's needs are met.

She pauses to squeeze Inessa's shoulder gently, offering wordless support.

Dimitri gives the women space as they hug briefly, and Rosa nods at me, taking my empty glass from my hand.

"The businesses are stabilizing," Inessa reports once Rosa moves on to other guests.

"Three major contracts were renewed this week, and the international buyers are returning. The attacks damaged our reputation temporarily, but quality speaks for itself."

Her fashion empire, nearly destroyed by her mother's sabotage, is rebuilding under my protection.

The security I provide allows her to focus on design and production rather than constantly defending against threats.

The partnership benefits both our organizations while strengthening the marriage that began under such difficult circumstances.

"The warehouse reconstruction is ahead of schedule," she continues.

"The new facility will be larger and more secure than what we lost. Sometimes, destruction creates opportunities for improvement."

I can't believe how much she's changed since her father's death.

The woman who was set to marry Dominic to protect her business would've seen the warehouse fire as pure catastrophe.

The woman who married me understands that setbacks can become strategic advantages with proper management.

Father Aleksander arrives from the Orthodox church, his black robes and silver beard commanding immediate respect from everyone present.

He moves through the crowd, blessing photographs and offering prayers for the dead.

His presence lends spiritual authority to our gathering. Even in our world of violence and criminality, faith maintains its place.

When he begins the formal blessing, I watch Inessa's face as she listens to the ancient words.

Her expression remains composed, but I notice the way her breathing deepens during the prayers, the slight tension in her shoulders when the priest mentions Semyon by name.

Grief still lives in her, though she's learned to carry it without letting it consume her.

"Your father would be proud," I tell her quietly.

She turns from Semyon's photograph to look at me directly, and I see admiration and respect in her eyes as she looks at me.

It wasn't there months ago, but now I never miss it.

"Would he? Even knowing what I'm capable of now?"

The question reveals the depth of her transformation.

Inessa has become her own woman, someone capable of the deadliest things.