Page 15

The cabin is quiet save for the low hum of the jet engines. Outside, clouds stretch endlessly, their calm contrast to the tension crackling in the air. Across from me, Chiara sits stiffly, cradling Leo in her lap. His small hand rests against her chest, his face relaxed in sleep, completely unaware of the chaos surrounding him. Alyssa, seated in a leather chair nearby, swings her legs absently, glancing at me every so often. There’s curiosity in her gaze, but also wariness.

Chiara avoids my eyes, her focus pinned on the window as if the endless horizon holds all the answers she needs. It doesn’t. The answers are here, with me.

I break the silence, my voice low and deliberate. “When exactly were you going to tell me?”

Her head turns slightly, just enough to show the faint tightening of her jaw. “Tell you what?” she asks, her tone carefully guarded.

My fingers drum on the armrest, each tap echoing louder in the confined space. “Don’t insult me by playing dumb. About them. My children.”

She exhales slowly, her fingers brushing absently through Leo’s blond curls, her protective gesture igniting a mix of frustration and something deeper in me. “By the time I knew I was pregnant, it was too late to go back,” she says softly.

“Too late to go back?” I repeat, my voice sharper. “You mean too late to face me.”

Her hand stills on Leo’s head. “You would have destroyed everything,” she says, finally looking at me. Her voice quivers just slightly, but her gaze is steady. “Do you think I didn’t know what you’d do? You’d take them, twist them into something—”

“Something like me,” I finish for her, leaning forward.

Her silence speaks volumes.

“You had no right,” I say, my tone rising despite my effort to keep it measured. “No right to make that decision for me. You stole years from me, Chiara. From them.”

Her lips press together as her fingers curl around Leo’s hand. “You would have stolen them from me.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, and for a moment, we’re locked in a silent battle of wills. Then her voice rises, breaking the tension with a sharp edge.

“What do you even plan to do now, Serge?” she snaps. “Take them away from me, or keep them like trophies to prove some twisted point?”

I smirk, leaning back. “They’re my blood. My legacy. They’ll be raised by my side, under my protection. That’s non-negotiable.”

Her grip on Leo tightens as her eyes narrow. “What about me, am I just your prisoner now… part of the package deal?”

I study her for a moment, letting the question hang. “I won’t kill you,” I say finally, my voice calm. “It’s against our tradition to harm the mothers of our children.”

Her laugh is bitter. “Oh, how noble of you, Serge. Should I thank you for your mercy?”

“It’s not mercy,” I say, leaning forward again, my elbows resting on my knees. “It’s respect for bloodlines. For family. Something you should understand.”

She glares at me, her vulnerability stark against her defiance. For the first time, I see her weakness—not in her words or actions, but in the way her fingers cling to Leo as if letting go would break her. Her children are her Achilles’ heel. And now I know it.

“They’re all I have,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t take them from me.”

I lean back, my expression softening just slightly. “You’ll stay with me,” I command, leaving no room for argument. “That’s how this works.”

Her head shakes, the defiance returning. “You can’t just decide that. I have a life, Serge. They have a life.”

“Now that life is with me,” I say simply.

Her eyes dart to Alyssa, who’s now dozing in her seat, her head tilted at an awkward angle. “What kind of life will that be?” she asks, her voice cracking. “A gilded cage. A constant reminder of your power.”

I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I glance at Leo, at the way his features mirror my own. His existence should make me angrier, more resentful. It doesn’t. The anger that simmers in me isn’t aimed at him or Alyssa. It’s aimed at her. At her betrayal. At how easily she hid them from me.

“I don’t care what you think,” I say finally, my voice cold. “The first thing we do when we land is get married.”

Her head jerks up, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She shakes her head, a small laugh escaping her. “You’re insane. That’s not happening.”

“It is,” I say firmly. “Unlike the Italians, we don’t welcome illegitimate children. My children will be viewed as equals, as Sharovs. That means you will be my wife.”

Her face pales, the fight momentarily draining from her. “You can’t force me into this,” she whispers.

“You don’t have a choice,” I reply, my voice softer but no less resolute.

***

The hum of the jet continues to fill the cabin as I settle back into my seat, my eyes locked on Chiara. She’s not looking at me. She hasn’t since I told her we’d be getting married the moment we land. Her jaw is tight, and her hand absently strokes Leo’s hair as he sleeps against her. She’s furious, but beneath that fury is something more—resignation.

There’s a strange satisfaction in seeing her like this. She thought she could escape me, hide my children from me, and erase me from her life. Now, every move she makes is tethered to my control. It’s exactly how it should be.

Yet, there’s something else. A nagging thought I can’t shake as I watch her. It’s not just control that drives me. I’ve dealt with betrayal before. I’ve exacted punishment countless times. This feels… different.

Chiara isn’t like anyone else I’ve encountered. She doesn’t crumble under pressure. Even now, when I’ve stripped her of her plans and shattered her illusions of freedom, she holds on to that defiance. It’s infuriating. Fascinating. No one challenges me the way she does, and I don’t know whether I want to crush her spirit completely or see how far she’ll go before she breaks.

Her head turns slightly, her gaze drifting out the window. The sunlight filters through, casting a soft glow on her face. She looks vulnerable like this. Tired, yes, but still breathtaking. My chest tightens, and I clench my fists, irritated by my own thoughts. This isn’t the time for weakness.

The plane jolts slightly as it begins its descent. I glance toward Roman, seated a few rows behind us. He catches my eye and immediately comes forward, his expression guarded.

“Everything ready?” I ask.

Roman hesitates, his brows furrowing. “The marriage license is prepared. The venue will be ready within an hour. Are you sure about this?”

I raise an eyebrow, my tone sharp. “Do you doubt me?”

“It’s not that,” Roman replies carefully. “She’s unpredictable. Are you sure she won’t fight you on this?”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” I say flatly. “Roman, let me make one thing clear—there’s no room for mistakes. Handle everything.”

He nods, retreating to the back of the cabin to make the necessary calls.

Chiara hasn’t moved, though I see her shoulders stiffen. She heard every word, but she won’t acknowledge it. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “You can keep pretending this isn’t happening,” I say, my voice low. “It is, and t’s happening today.”

She finally turns to me, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “You think forcing me into a marriage will make you a father? A husband?”

“No,” I say, meeting her fire with a calm smirk. “It will ensure my children have the name and status they deserve. Whether you like it or not.”

Her lip curls, but she doesn’t respond. She shifts her focus back to the window, her silence speaking volumes.

The skyline of Chicago comes into view, sprawling and vibrant against the backdrop of the lake. For a moment, I see the faintest flicker of something in her expression—nostalgia, maybe, or dread.

I lean back in my seat, satisfied.

As the plane touches down, I stand and adjust my cuff links, signaling Roman to ensure the car is ready.

“Time to go,” I say, my voice carrying an air of finality.

Chiara remains seated, her hand still cradling Leo’s head. Alyssa stirs in her seat, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Chiara gently nudges her, helping her to her feet before standing herself.

She looks at me then, her eyes full of venom and something else I can’t quite place. “This isn’t over, Serge,” she says quietly.

I smirk, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between us. “Oh, I know,” I reply. “It’s only just beginning.”

Alyssa tugs on her mother’s sleeve. “Are we staying in that big shiny city, Mommy?”

Chiara’s voice softens for her daughter, the first trace of warmth I’ve heard in hours. “For a little while, sweetheart.”

Alyssa frowns. “What about the animals?”

“You don’t need pets,” I cut in before Chiara can respond. “You’ll like it here better,” I say. Alyssa glances at me, wide-eyed, unsure how to respond. I offer her a rare smile. “There’s plenty to explore.”

Chiara shoots me a look, her eyes narrowing in warning. I ignore it.

Roman appears to assist. I stretch, then walk over to where Chiara is struggling to untangle herself from Leo’s sleepy grip. She’s careful not to let our hands touch as she shifts him into a more comfortable position. Alyssa hops down from her seat, brimming with energy.

“Come on, let’s go,” I say, placing a hand on Chiara’s lower back as she moves toward the exit. She tenses but doesn’t pull away, likely mindful of the kids’ watchful eyes. I lean in, letting my voice drop low. “Welcome home.”

She doesn’t respond, but her jaw tightens.

***

The sleek black SUV waits in the parking lot after we go through security. Roman is already behind the wheel, and I guide Chiara and the children inside. Alyssa climbs in eagerly, but Leo clings to his mother, still groggy.

“Do we get to see your house now?” Alyssa asks as I settle into the seat across from her.

“You do,” I reply. “It’s big. You’ll like it.”

She beams, and Chiara’s shoulders tighten. She knows this isn’t a vacation, but the children are blissfully ignorant. It’s better this way. Let them adjust without fear while I sort out everything else.

As the car moves through Chicago’s bustling streets, Alyssa peppers me with questions. “Do you have a dog? Mommy said no dogs.”

“Not yet,” I admit. “But maybe we’ll get one.”

Her eyes light up, and Chiara’s mouth twitches like she’s suppressing a retort.

Leo stirs in her lap, blinking up at her. “Where are we going, Mommy?”

“Somewhere new, sweetheart,” she says softly, stroking his hair. “You’ll see.”

I study her as she speaks to him. For all her fury and rebellion, her love for these children is disarmingly genuine. It’s the one weakness I know I can exploit—and the one I hate myself for wanting to.

When we reach the mansion, the gates open silently, and Alyssa gasps. “It’s so big!” she exclaims, pressing her hands to the glass.

“Bigger than a castle!” Leo adds, now wide awake.

The car pulls up to the grand entrance, where staff are already waiting. Roman parks, and I step out first, holding a hand out for Alyssa. She takes it without hesitation, hopping onto the driveway with excitement. Chiara exits carefully, still cradling Leo, her eyes darting around warily.

Inside, the kids’ awe grows. The vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and sweeping staircase elicit wide-eyed stares from both of them. Alyssa runs ahead, her laughter echoing through the expansive space, while Leo clings to Chiara, shyly taking it all in.

“Where’s our room, Mommy?” Alyssa calls out, spinning in circles beneath the chandelier.

“I’ll show you,” I say, cutting in before Chiara can respond. “Come with me.”

Alyssa immediately skips toward me, and I lead her and Leo to the grand staircase. Chiara follows reluctantly, her steps heavy. I glance over my shoulder at her. “You’ll all have everything you need here. I’ll make sure of it.”

Her silence speaks volumes. She knows what I mean—that her life, and their lives, are mine now. She doesn’t have to like it. She just has to accept it.

The children’s room is at the end of the second-floor hallway, its door painted a soft cream that stands out against the dark wood paneling. I push it open, stepping aside to let Alyssa dart inside. She gasps the moment she sees it, her excitement spilling over like water breaking through a dam.

“It’s huge!” she squeals, spinning in the middle of the room. The hardwood floor gleams beneath her feet, and the soft blue walls are bathed in sunlight streaming through oversized windows. A canopy bed, draped with delicate gauze, dominates one side of the room, while a bunk bed with dark wood and navy comforters sits tucked against the far wall for Leo. Shelves already lined with books and toys fill the space, carefully curated to appear welcoming but not overbearing.

Chiara hangs back in the doorway, her arms wrapped protectively around Leo. She doesn’t move, but I feel her watching every detail, her sharp gaze cutting through my carefully crafted display of hospitality.

Alyssa races toward the bed, bouncing on it before darting to the bookshelf. “Look, Mommy! They have all the princess books!” She pulls one down and hugs it to her chest. “Can I read this before bed?”

“You can read anything you want,” I say, my tone lighter than usual. Alyssa grins up at me, and for a moment, I see the unguarded joy of a child.

Chiara finally steps inside, but only far enough to let the door close behind her. Her hold on Leo shifts as he squirms, reaching toward the bunk bed. “Is that mine?” he murmurs, his voice soft but curious.

“It is,” I answer before Chiara can. “Come on, try it out.”

Chiara hesitates, her body stiffening as if anticipating a trap. Slowly, she lowers Leo to the floor, letting him wander toward the bed. He climbs onto the lower bunk, his little hands clutching the plush comforter, and lets out a small laugh as he bounces.

Alyssa joins him, climbing onto the smaller bed to inspect the pillows. “It’s like a sleepover, Mommy!”

Chiara stands frozen, her eyes darting between the two of them and then to me. I meet her stare, holding it steady. I can see the war playing out in her mind—her relief that the children are happy, her fear of what strings might be attached.

“You don’t trust me,” I say quietly, my words for her alone.

Her lips press together. “Should I?”

I step closer, keeping my movements deliberate. “They’ll have everything they could ever need here. They’ll be safe, cared for, and happy.” My gaze drops to where Leo is now cuddling a stuffed bear he’s found on the bed. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“What I want is for them to be free,” she says, her voice sharp and low.

“They are,” I counter, my tone firm. “This is their home now. This is their life.”

Chiara doesn’t respond. She turns back to the children, her expression softening as Alyssa whispers something to Leo that makes him giggle. Despite her defiance, I see the faintest crack in her armor.

She doesn’t trust me yet, but she will.