Page 85 of The Mafia's Septuplets
28
Iskander
Seventeen weeks later, the Charleston spring air drifts through my office windows, carrying the scent of magnolia blossoms and new beginnings. I sign the final page of documents that formally transfer control of the Taranov Syndicate to Timur, my handwriting sealing the end of an era that defined most of my adult life.
“That’s it.” I set down the pen and lean back in my chair, studying the neat stack of papers that represent decades of power and influence. “You’re officially in charge of everything I built.”
He collects the documents with a sweep of his arms. His expression carries satisfaction and perhaps a bit of anxiety about his new responsibility, clearly understanding he’s inheriting both opportunities and obligations. He chuckles. “It’s strange to think this morning you were a crime boss, and now you’re just another honest businessman.” He slides the papers into a leather portfolio designed to protect them during transportto our lawyers. “What are you planning to do with all that legitimacy?”
I laugh and move to the window overlooking gardens where security teams once maintained constant vigilance. The grounds look peaceful now, with gardeners tending flowerbeds instead of soldiers patrolling perimeters. These weeks without external threats has transformed this estate from fortress to family home, though we do maintain a small staff of security, as would anyone with wealth. They just aren’t so obvious, and the likelihood of us ever needing them has dropped significantly.
“Willa and I have been talking about relocating somewhere quieter once the babies arrive.” I watch a pair of cardinals build their nest in the old oak tree that’s witnessed decades of my family’s history. “We’ve been looking at properties online but haven’t found anything that speaks to us yet.”
“Online house hunting.” Timur’s tone carries amused disbelief. “From the man who once insisted on personally inspecting every safe house before approving its use.”
I nod, conceding the point. “Willa’s scheduled C-section is in four days, so we can’t travel right now.” I turn back to face him, trying not to reveal my lingering worry about that. “We’ve done a couple of Zoom walk-throughs with real estate agents, which feels surreal after years of viewing properties through security assessments.”
The transition from criminal enterprise to legitimate business has been smoother than either of us anticipated. Wellington’s partnership provided enough clean revenue to support our operations while we systematically extricated ourselves from illegal activities. Money laundering gave way to investment consulting, territorial protection became private security, andviolence transformed into negotiation. What couldn’t be converted remains firmly and fully under Timur’s control now with this morning’s signatures.
“Is any particular region calling to you, or are you just looking for maximum distance from Charleston?”
“Willa wants something with space for the children to grow up safely.” I return to my desk and review the property listings we’ve bookmarked over recent weeks. “We’re thinking the ocean or an island, maybe. We want somewhere we can build something new without shadows from the past affecting our future, so yes… Far away from Charleston is the plan.”
“That soundsnice.” He makes nice sound as pleasant as he can, but it’s clear he finds the concept baffling.
“She also wants to let the babies enjoy the nursery we renovated with such care before we think seriously about moving.” I touch one of the ultrasound photos showing seven distinct forms positioned for their imminent arrival. “We put months of planning into that room, and she’d like them to experience it before we start over somewhere else.” I look up to meet his gaze. “I also think it’s a way of reclaiming it from the taint of Alina, who was heavily involved with the first stage of renovating.”
He grimaces at the mention of the woman and curses her softly.
She’s currently in Moscow, indentured to an oldbratvaacquaintance of mine for ten years to work off her sentence for betraying us. We handle our own justice in this world, dispensing consequences that courts would never understand. I wanted something quick and permanent, but Willa had asked me to let her live. I’d thought it was from sympathy until she’dstared coldly at Alina and said, “She deserves to have years to contemplate what a mistake she made.”
Timur nods with understanding that goes beyond simple friendship into brotherhood forged through shared danger and mutual trust. “Willa deserves that chance.” He changes the subject a moment later. “The Miami and Atlanta crews are adapting well to the transition. Discovering legitimate security work pays better than territorial disputes without the risk of incarceration has significantly improved morale.” He flashes a smile.
I settle back in my chair, processing the reality that hundreds of people who once followed my orders are now building legal careers under Timur’s leadership. The transformation represents redemption on a scale I never imagined possible when I first decided to leave this world behind.
“Any regrets about walking away?” His question carries genuine curiosity rather than judgment, though I understand why he might wonder about my emotional state after surrendering everything I built.
“Sometimes.” The admission emerges with honesty I don’t bother to hide from a man who’s like my brother. “It’s mostly nostalgia for the clarity of absolute power and problems that could be solved through superior violence. Then I think about Willa and our children, and the choice becomes obvious.”
The bittersweet nature of this transition touches every aspect of my daily routine. I miss the adrenaline of tactical planning and the satisfaction of outmaneuvering rivals, but I’ve gained something infinitely more valuable in exchange. Love has replaced fear as my primary motivation, and partnership hassuperseded dominance as my preferred method of problem-solving.
“It feels like freedom.” I stand and move toward the door, suddenly eager to find my wife and confirm once again that I’ve made the right choice. “For the first time in my adult life, I wake up without wondering who might try to kill me today.” We walk through corridors, and I hear Willa’s laughter drifting from the living room.
“She’s transformed this place.” Timur observes the fresh flowers and family photographs that have replaced tactical maps and weapons displays. “She’s made it feel like a home instead of a headquarters.”
“She’s transformed me.” The acknowledgment encompasses everything from major life decisions to daily routines. “She taught me strength can come from vulnerability, and protection doesn’t require control.” I shake my head. “My father must be rolling in his grave.”
“Da, but that’s good. You never wanted to be like him.”
I nod in agreement as we enter the living room where Willa sits on the sofa with her laptop open, reviewing what appears to be a virtual property tour on the screen. At thirty-one weeks pregnant with septuplets, she moves carefully but maintains the grace that first attracted me in Henri’s shop. Her belly has expanded to accommodate seven growing babies, and her rounded face carries the serene contentment of approaching motherhood.
“How did the signing go?” She looks up from the laptop with a smile that makes everything else fade into background noise. “Are you officially a former crime boss now?”
“Officially reformed and respectably boring.” I settle beside her on the sofa, noting how the afternoon light highlights the diamond in her ring, currently worn around her neck on a chain because of her fingers swelling. “Timur is now the proud owner of everything I used to consider important.”
“How does that feel?” Her question echoes Timur’s earlier inquiry and carries a note of concern.
“Good. It’s like I can finally breathe without wondering what I’ll have to sacrifice next to maintain power.” I take her hand and study the way her swollen fingers intertwine with mine, marveling at how something so simple can provide such profound comfort. “Now, I can focus on building instead of destroying.”