Page 82 of The Bratva's Sextuplets

“Next month, if Dr. Kozlova clears them for travel.” I’ve already coordinated with medical personnel and security teams to ensure the trip meets every safety requirement. Our three nannies and several bodyguards will come along, but we should be able to truly relax there. “I think we can squeeze in two weeks of complete privacy where they can experience normal childhood activities.”

“Normal childhood activities.” Zita repeats the phrase like she’s testing how it sounds. “Swimming, playing in sand, and sleeping under stars without worrying about surveillance equipment.” She still looks faintly skeptical, like she wants to remind me our infants are barely six months old, but she refrains.

“I just want them to have everything we never had growing up.” I lean against the doorframe, watching our children sleep peacefully. “All the things we swore they would have.”

The promise we’re keeping to our children extends beyond just physical safety and material comfort. We’ve committed to giving them a childhood that creates people capable of building rather than destroying and choosing rather than simply following orders.

“How has theBratvatransition been progressing?” Zita asks about the organizational changes I’ve been implementing since the Federoff war ended.

“Better than expected. The real estate operations are generating steady revenue without requiring enforcement actions. The political consulting firm is landing contracts based on expertise rather than intimidation.”

“What about the traditional operations?” Zita’s question gets to the heart of how completely we’ve moved away from Nicky’s methods.

“They’re scaled back significantly.” I’m honest about the realities of transforming a criminal organization. “We still provide security services for clients who need discretion, but we’ve eliminated the drug trade entirely and reduced protection rackets to voluntary business arrangements.”

“Voluntary business arrangements.” Zita’s tone carries approval and amusement. “Nicky would be spinning in his grave.”

“Nicky can spin straight to Hell for all I care.” Despite the words, my tone is mild. I’m not at peace with his actions or what he did to my mother, but I have found the ability to move past it. When the children came, all the old hurts seemed less important as I lost myself in raising them with the day-to-day triumphs and challenges.

She smiles with understanding and just touches my arm. We stand in silence for a long minute, admiring our children.

As we stand together watching our children sleep, I understand everything that brought us to this moment, including the arranged marriage, the Federoff war, and months of learning to trust each other were necessary to create the love that now defines our lives.

What began as duty has become devotion. What started as obligation has become a partnership that transforms everything it touches. Our children will inherit not just wealth and influence, but the understanding that real strength comes from protecting who and what you love.

“I love you.” I put my arm around her. “You and they are my entire world.”

“I love you too.” She leans into my embrace. “I couldn’t love any of you more if I tried.”

The cycle of violence ends with us. The legacy of love begins with them.