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The house is quiet when I finally head upstairs. It’s late, the kind of late where the world feels still, as if everyone but me has already surrendered to sleep. I push the door to my room open, expecting darkness and solitude, but I’m greeted by a warm, unexpected sight.

Chiara is sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard, with Leo curled up in her lap and Alyssa snuggled beside her. A book is open in her hands, her soft voice filling the room as she reads aloud. She’s so absorbed in the story that she doesn’t notice me at first. The children hang on her every word, their small faces glowing in the soft light of the bedside lamp.

It’s a domestic scene that feels completely out of place in my world of sharp edges and constant battles. Yet, for reasons I can’t explain, it stops me in my tracks.

Alyssa notices me first. Her face lights up, and she bounces slightly in her spot. “Papa!” she exclaims, her voice a hushed but excited whisper.

Chiara’s gaze flicks up to meet mine, startled at first, but her expression softens. “You’re back,” she says, her voice quiet but steady.

“Yes,” I reply, stepping further into the room. “I didn’t realize I’d find company here.”

“The twins couldn’t sleep,” she explains, running her fingers through Leo’s soft hair. “Alyssa insisted they stay here, and, well….”

“She said the bed is bigger,” Alyssa pipes up, grinning at me. “And you wouldn’t mind.”

I smirk faintly, moving to the edge of the bed. “Oh, she did, did she?”

“Uh-huh,” Alyssa says, nodding vigorously. Then, with all the innocence only a child can muster, she pats the empty spot beside her. “Come sit, Papa. Mama’s reading a story.”

I glance at Chiara, half expecting her to protest, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shifts slightly to make room.

I sigh softly, more out of habit than resistance, and lower myself onto the bed. Alyssa immediately scoots closer, leaning against my side as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What’s the story?” I ask, my voice quieter now.

“It’s about a family of bears,” Chiara replies, holding up the book briefly before continuing. Her voice softens as she picks up where she left off, her tone lilting and soothing.

I don’t pay much attention to the story itself. Instead, I watch her. The way her lips move as she speaks. The way her hands gesture subtly with the rhythm of the words. The way she glances down at Leo every so often, her expression tender as he blinks sleepily up at her.

She’s beautiful like this, at ease in a way I rarely see.

Alyssa nestles closer into my side, her small hand resting on my arm. The weight of her trust, her warmth, settles over me like a blanket I didn’t know I needed. Leo shifts in Chiara’s lap, his eyelids drooping as he fights the pull of sleep.

By the time Chiara finishes the story, Leo has succumbed, his small body curled tightly against her. Alyssa, too, is beginning to fade, her head lolling onto my shoulder. Chiara closes the book gently, setting it on the nightstand, and leans back against the pillows, her arms still wrapped protectively around Leo.

“You’re good with them,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can think better of them.

Her eyes flick to mine, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she gives a small smile. “They’re my world,” she replies softly.

I don’t respond immediately. Instead, I glance down at Alyssa, who’s now completely asleep against me, her soft breaths steady and peaceful. For a moment, the weight of the day, the meetings, and even the looming tension of Chiara’s family legacy fade into the background.

“You bring them peace,” I say after a moment, my voice low.

Chiara’s eyes soften, but she doesn’t reply. Instead, she leans her head back against the headboard, her gaze fixed on Leo’s sleeping face. Her own exhaustion begins to show, her eyelids fluttering as sleep pulls at her.

I watch as she finally gives in, her head tilting slightly to the side, her arms still cradling Leo protectively. She looks vulnerable like this, her features unguarded and serene. It stirs something deep inside me, something I can’t quite name.

I shift slightly, adjusting Alyssa in my arms so she’s more comfortable. Her small frame feels so fragile, yet she clings to me with the kind of trust I’ve never known. I glance back at Chiara, at the way her body curls instinctively around Leo even in sleep, and a strange sense of fulfillment washes over me.

I’ve built my life on power, control, and dominance. Yet, here, in this quiet moment, surrounded by my family— my family —I feel something I haven’t felt in years. Peace.

It’s unsettling in its simplicity. I’m not used to feeling this way, to letting my guard down even for a second. As Alyssa snuggles closer and Chiara breathes softly beside me, I find myself leaning back, allowing the warmth of the moment to seep in.

Chiara stirs beside me, her lashes fluttering briefly before her eyes open, hazy and half lidded with sleep. She looks at me, her gaze soft and unguarded in the dim light. For a moment, neither of us says anything, the quiet in the room broken only by the steady breathing of the children.

“You’re still awake,” she whispers, her voice low and thick with exhaustion.

I nod, my gaze flicking to Alyssa nestled against my side before returning to her. “So are you.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m trying not to wake them.”

“They’re out,” I reply softly, shifting just enough to adjust Alyssa’s weight without disturbing her. “You could probably shout, and they wouldn’t budge.”

Chiara lets out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and soft, curling around me like the scent of her perfume lingering in the air. It’s intoxicating, the way she seems so at ease, so different from the sharp edges she wears during the day.

“I didn’t expect you to stay,” she murmurs after a moment, her gaze flicking down to Leo as her fingers gently brush his hair.

“I didn’t plan to,” I admit, my voice equally quiet. “You… and them… it’s hard to leave.”

She looks up at me again, something unreadable in her expression. There’s a flicker of vulnerability there, and it stirs something deep within me, something I’ve spent years burying.

“Serge…,” she starts, her voice hesitant.

I lean in slightly, closing the space between us. “Yes?”

Her breath catches, her lips parting as if she’s about to speak, but instead, she tilts her head just enough to meet my gaze fully. In the dim light, her eyes are dark, reflecting something raw and unspoken.

“I…,” she begins, but the words seem to fail her. Instead, her hand shifts slightly, brushing against my arm as if testing the waters.

The warmth of her touch ignites something I can’t ignore. Slowly, deliberately, I reach out, my fingers brushing against her cheek. Her skin is soft, warm, and she leans into the touch almost instinctively.

“Chiara,” I murmur, her name a whisper on my lips.

She doesn’t move away. Instead, her gaze drops to my mouth, her breath coming faster now. I lean in, unable to stop myself, until our lips meet in a kiss that’s soft at first, hesitant, but quickly deepens.

Her mouth is warm, sweet, and she tastes like everything I didn’t realize I was craving. My hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as her fingers curl into my shirt.

It’s only when Leo shifts in her arms, murmuring softly in his sleep, that we both freeze.

She pulls back first, her breathing uneven, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss. “The kids…,” she whispers, her voice shaky but firm.

I nod, forcing myself to take a step back, though every part of me screams to stay close. “We’ll wake them,” I agree, my voice huskier than I intended.

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she adjusts Leo in her arms, cradling him closer as she leans back against the pillows. Alyssa murmurs something incoherent, her small hand curling against my chest as I settle beside her again.

The silence stretches between us, charged and heavy, but neither of us speaks. Chiara’s eyes drift shut eventually, her breathing evening out as she succumbs to sleep.

I stare at her for a moment longer, my thoughts tangled in ways I don’t want to unravel. Finally, I let my head rest back against the headboard, Alyssa’s warmth a comforting weight against me.

The moment lingers, soft and unexpected, as sleep pulls me under too.

***

The soft glow of early morning filters through the curtains, casting a warm light across the room. I stir, blinking against the brightness as I adjust to wakefulness. The weight against my chest is unfamiliar, yet somehow comforting. It takes me a moment to realize what’s different.

Chiara.

Her body is tucked against mine, her head resting just below my chin, her arm draped lightly across my side. Her warmth seeps through the thin material of my shirt, her scent—a delicate blend of jasmine and something uniquely hers—lingering in the air between us.

I freeze, my muscles going rigid as the realization hits. At some point during the night, Alyssa must have left my side, and Chiara has taken her place. My arm, draped lazily around her waist, tightens reflexively before I catch myself.

This is not how I planned to wake up.

Chiara stirs slightly, her breath warm against my collarbone. Her lashes flutter, and she blinks up at me, her eyes hazy with sleep. For a moment, there’s no recognition, only the soft vulnerability of someone just waking up. Then her gaze sharpens, and she stiffens against me.

Her eyes widen, and her cheeks flush a deep red as she pulls back abruptly, her hand pressing against my chest as if to put more distance between us. “What… what are you doing?” she stammers, her voice still husky with sleep.

“What am I doing?” I echo, smirking slightly despite the situation. “You’re the one cuddling me.”

Her blush deepens, and she sits up quickly, smoothing her disheveled hair. “I—I wasn’t! I mean, I didn’t mean to!”

“Sure,” I drawl, unable to resist teasing her.

She glares at me, though the effect is diminished by the way she ducks her head, clearly flustered. Before she can fire back, the sound of giggles cuts through the room.

I turn my head to see Alyssa and Leo standing near the door, their little faces alight with mischief. Alyssa clutches her stuffed rabbit tightly, bouncing on her toes as Leo stifles another laugh behind his hand.

“Good morning, Mama and Papa ,” Alyssa sings, her grin widening.

Chiara straightens, narrowing her eyes at them. “What are you two up to?”

Alyssa’s giggles grow louder, and she points at us, her expression completely unrepentant. “We switched places! Me and Leo! So you could snuggle.”

Chiara gasps, her jaw dropping slightly as her blush spreads down her neck. “You… you did what?”

Leo peeks out from behind Alyssa, his shy grin matching hers. “Alyssa said it was a good idea,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It was!” Alyssa declares proudly. “You two need more hugs. Grandma Kat says hugs make people happy!”

Chiara groans softly, burying her face in her hands. “Unbelievable,” she mutters.

I chuckle, sitting up and resting my arms on my knees as I glance between them. “Well, they’re not wrong,” I say, enjoying the way Chiara’s head snaps up, her glare fixed on me now.

“You’re not helping,” she hisses, though the corner of her mouth twitches as if she’s fighting a smile.

Alyssa takes a step closer, her hands on her hips in a comically serious pose. “Did it work? Are you happy now?”

Chiara presses her lips together, clearly torn between scolding them and laughing. “You two are impossible,” she says finally, shaking her head.

Leo tugs on Alyssa’s sleeve, whispering something I can’t hear. She nods enthusiastically before darting forward, climbing onto the bed with Leo following close behind.

“Breakfast now!” Alyssa announces, plopping herself between Chiara and me.

Leo crawls up onto Chiara’s lap, snuggling into her as she automatically wraps an arm around him. “Breakfast!” he echoes softly, his eyes still half lidded with sleep.

Chiara looks down at him, her expression softening. Whatever embarrassment she felt moments ago seems to melt away as she presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Alright,” she says, her voice gentle. “Let’s get breakfast.”

Alyssa tugs on my sleeve. “Come on, Papa! You have to come too.”

I let out a mock sigh, ruffling her hair. “As if I have a choice,” I tease, earning a delighted giggle from her.

Chiara glances at me over Leo’s head, her gaze unreadable for a moment before she speaks. “You’re good with them,” she says quietly, almost to herself.

“Of course I am,” I reply, meeting her gaze steadily. “They’re my children too.”

Her eyes flicker with something—surprise, maybe, or something softer—and she nods, though she doesn’t say anything more.

The four of us make our way downstairs, the twins chattering about what they want for breakfast. Alyssa insists on pancakes, while Leo quietly requests fruit. Chiara, still flustered from earlier, moves through the motions with ease, her focus entirely on the children.

Soon, the kitchen is alive with the warm scent of coffee brewing and the soft hum of morning activity. Chiara moves with practiced grace, pulling out ingredients as Alyssa tugs at her arm, insisting she help with the pancakes. Leo hovers near the counter, his small fingers gripping the edge as he watches quietly.

“I can mix it!” Alyssa announces, holding up a wooden spoon like a badge of honor.

Chiara smiles, her earlier flustered demeanor replaced by the calm patience she reserves for the twins. “Alright, but only if you promise to be careful.”

“I promise,” Alyssa chirps, already climbing onto the stool Chiara sets up for her.

I lean against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold. There’s something grounding about the way Chiara moves, her attention split between managing Alyssa’s overzealous stirring and slicing fruit for Leo. She glances back at me once, her brow arching slightly as if to say, Are you just going to stand there?

I step into the room, rolling up my sleeves. “Let me help.”

“You?” she asks, her tone teasing. “I didn’t think Serge Sharov knew his way around a kitchen.”

I smirk, grabbing the bowl of pancake batter from Alyssa before she tips it over. “I know more than you think.”

Alyssa giggles as I guide her tiny hands to hold the spoon properly, steadying the bowl as she mixes. Leo watches intently, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Chiara places a plate of sliced fruit in front of Leo and then leans against the counter, arms crossed as she watches us. Her eyes soften, and for a moment, the tension from the morning fades.

“Maybe you’re not so hopeless after all,” she murmurs, a playful glint in her eyes.

Her words, light and teasing, leave a warmth in the air that feels oddly like home.