Page 71 of The Mafia's Septuplets
“Then you choose between the woman you love and the power that keeps her safe.” His answer comes without hesitation. “You can’t have both if you’re not willing to defend what you’ve built.”
The brutal honesty cuts through every rationalization I’ve constructed about gradual transitions and peaceful exits. You don’t retire from thebratvaby delegating responsibilities and hoping your enemies respect your new priorities. You retire by eliminating threats and proving you’re still dangerous enough to be left alone. “If I handle Mikhail personally, the defectors fall back in line?”
“Most of them. Viktor and his allies will remember why crossing you was never a viable option, especially if you make an example of him too.” Timur’s expression remains coldly practical. “You have to do it soon, before Mikhail gains enough support to make his move.”
I walk to the window overlooking the gardens, where my security team maintains their vigilance. Armed men patrol the grounds where I’ve tried to build a sanctuary for Willa and our children. Even here, surrounded by walls and guards, we’re not safe as long as Mikhail lives and my own people question my strength. The irony cuts deep. I built this empire to have the power to protect what I cared about, but now that power itself has become the threat.
“There’s another option.” Timur’s voice carries careful neutrality. “Plan L.”
Plan L. The Last Resort contingency we developed months ago for worst-case scenarios. I can move Willa to the secure facility in the mountains, where she’ll be completely protected while I handle the war without worrying about her safety. It’s logical,strategic, and everything she’ll hate about how I make decisions. “She’ll never agree to it willingly.”
“Then don’t give her a choice. Transport her there before she realizes what’s happening. Handle Mikhail and the defectors over the next week, then bring her home when the threats are eliminated.”
“She’ll see it as betrayal, and another example of me choosing control over partnership.” The thought fills me with dread, and my stomach clenches, but I don’t see an alternative. I have to protect her, even if it costs me everything we’ve built together.
“Better an angry girlfriend than a dead one.” Timur’s words carry finality that cuts through emotional concerns. “If you truly love her, you’ll protect her from the consequences of your divided attention.”
The logic is unassailable and completely wrong at the same time. Protecting Willa by removing her autonomy will destroy the trust we’ve been building. Yet keeping her here while I wage war against external and internal enemies puts her and seven unborn children at risk I can’t accept. The mental image of Willa’s face when she realizes what I’ve done haunts me already. She’ll look at me with those green eyes full of betrayal and disappointment, and I’ll deserve every bit of her anger.
I return to my desk, sinking into the chair while impossible choices press down on me. I recall Willa this morning, her face flushed with pregnancy and frustration as she begged me to choose her over my obligations. Instead of doing that, I’m now planning to take away her choice entirely. “How long to implement Plan L?”
“Six hours. The facility is fully staffed and equipped for extended stays. We can have her there before she knows what’s happening.” His efficiency in planning my betrayal of Willa’s trust feels like another small death. “Anton and three others would accompany her. I’ll send ahead medical staff to be prepared for any pregnancy complications, and I took the liberty of arranging a delivery suite and a network of doctors and nurses pressed into our service if she needs to deliver there.”
“I thought you said a week.” There’s no heat in my words though. Ideally, we can deal with Mikhail in a week, but potentially, it could take months to draw him out, leaving Willa giving birth in the safe house. “What do I tell her?”
“Nothing. Operational security requires limiting information to essential personnel only.” Timur’s expression remains professionally neutral. “She doesn’t need to understand the tactical necessities to benefit from the protection they provide.”
Every instinct screams this is wrong, and treating Willa like cargo to be secured rather than a partner to consult will shatter everything between us. I can’t be taking relationship advice from my stoic lieutenant, who has no use for women outside the bedroom. Yet the alternative might be watching Mikhail’s bullets find their target because I was too distracted to see the threat coming. That reminds me I’m accepting his advice on how to keep her safe, not how to make her happy.
“If I do this, she might never forgive me.”
“If you don’t, you might not have the chance to ask for forgiveness.” His response cuts through every romantic notion about trust and partnership. “Dead martyrs don’t get to rebuild relationships.”
The tablet screen shows another photo of Mikhail meeting with potential allies, his expression carrying the satisfaction of someone who sees victory approaching. Every day I delay decisive action gives him more time to build support and plan attacks. Every day I try to balance competing priorities gives him opportunities to exploit weaknesses he’s already identified.
The words emerge with reluctant finality. “Activate Plan L.”
“Good.” Timur collects his tablet and stands straight. “I’ll coordinate the logistics. What do you want me to tell the transport team about resistance?”
“She won’t resist if she doesn’t know it’s happening until it’s too late.” The plan crystallizes with horrible clarity, each detail another nail in the coffin of our relationship. “I’ll tell Harper I’ve arranged a spa weekend at the mountain retreat just for them, so Will can relax and get prenatal massage. By the time Willa realizes it’s not a getaway, she’ll be secure.” My mouth twists. “So will Harper for that matter. Since I’m keeping the woman I love captive, I might as well kidnap her best friend to keep her company.”
He ignores that and asks, “What should they do if Ms. Reynolds or her friend demands to return immediately?”
“Tell them communication blackouts are necessary for security purposes. No phone, no internet, and no contact with the outside world until the threats are eliminated.” Each detail of the deception feels like another betrayal. “Medical emergencies only.”
“Understood.” Timur pauses at the door. “For what it’s worth, this is the right tactical decision. Personal feelings aside, you’rechoosing her survival over her happiness. Most women would eventually understand that choice.”
“Willa isn’t most women.” The admission carries all my fear and admiration for the woman who refuses to be protected from her own life. “She values partnership over safety. I’m giving her the opposite of everything she’s asked for.”
“You’re giving her the chance to survive long enough to hate you for it and bring those babies into the world. That’s better than the alternative.”
After he leaves, I sink into my chair and stare at my phone. There are no missed calls from Willa, so she made no effort to remind me of the appointment when I was late. I can’t blame her for the reaction.
I settle back, massaging my temples to fight off a headache. She’s probably at the doctor’s office now, seeing our children’s faces while I plan to betray her trust in the name of protection. Maybe she’s learning their genders, sharing that moment of joy with Harper instead of me because I chose business over being present. When she gets home, she’ll discover exactly how far I’ll go to keep her safe, and she’ll probably hate me for it.
I dial her number, knowing she won’t answer, but needing to hear her voice one last time before I destroy everything between us. It goes straight to voicemail. Her recording plays with warm affection that makes guilt twist in my chest. “This is Willa. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
“It’s me.” My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. “I’m sorry about this morning. I’m sorry about all of it. I love you more than I know how to show you, and I’m about to prove it inthe worst possible way.” The confession tumbles out. It’s easier to say, “I love you,” to her machine than it is to her.
I end the call before I can say anything else that might give away what’s coming. The silence in my office feels oppressive, like it’s filled with the ghosts of better choices I could have made. When she returns from the appointment, she’ll face the consequences of my choice to prioritize her safety over her trust. She’ll pack for what she thinks is a relaxing weekend away, probably grateful for the thoughtfulness while I orchestrate her imprisonment.
In the end, she’ll be alive to hate me, and that’s all that matters now.
The afternoon stretches ahead with preparations for war and betrayal. I’ll need to call Harper soon to convince her to help participate in the “surprise” only to add her name to the list of people who hate me once it’s over.
Every detail of this elaborate lie is designed to keep the woman I love safe while destroying everything she values about our relationship. To give Willa the partnership she deserves, I first have to prove I’m still the kind of man who takes what he wants without asking permission. I’m choosing her and the babies’ survival even if that means I’m not part of their future in any meaningful way if she can’t get past her anger to forgive me.