Page 89 of The Mafia's Septuplets
EPILOGUE
Iskander (One Year Later)
The breeze blowing through the villa’s opened French doors carries the salt-kissed sweetness of Kiawah Island’s ocean, stirring my senses. I adjust my tie, a simple platinum silk that Willa chose for today, while watching seven one-year-olds explore their temporary playpen.
“Daddy’s getting married today.” I crouch beside the pen, where Katarina attempts to climb over Nikolai while Aidan observes the chaos with contemplative patience. “I’m marrying the most wonderful woman in the world, who gave you life and gave me everything worth fighting for.”
Etta responds by throwing a soft block in my direction, her aim remarkably accurate for someone who learned to walk only three weeks ago. Alexei claps his hands with delight at his sister’s rebellion, while Anastasia and Chloe engage in what appears to be a serious conversation conducted entirely in babbled syllables.
“Already causing trouble, I see.” Willa appears in the doorway wearing a silk robe, her hair flowing loose around shoulders that have grown stronger from months of carrying, feeding, and nurturing seven demanding infants. “Good thing their father specializes in managing complicated situations.”
I rise and move toward her, still amazed by how naturally she’s adapted to the organized chaos of our expanded household. She coordinates feeding schedules, nap rotations, and developmental milestones with the efficiency of a military strategist while still managing Maison Laurant, mostly remotely since Eve has proven to be a competent manager after more training.
“Are you ready for this?” I frame her face with my hands, studying features that have become more beautiful with each passing day. “Making it official and binding ourselves together legally as well as emotionally?
She answers without hesitation. “Yes, though I admit the logistics feel more daunting now.”
The past year has transformed us from desperate lovers fighting for survival into partners building something sustainable and beautiful. Our days follow rhythms dictated by infant needs rather than criminal enterprises, and I’ve discovered profound satisfaction in problems that can be solved through patience rather than violence.
“The nannies have everything under control.” I gesture toward the three women who arrived as temporary help and gradually became extensions of our family. “May, Shanae, and Treva know these babies better than anyone except us.”
We hired them during those first overwhelming weeks when seven newborns required round-the-clock care that exceeded our physical capabilities. What began as a professional arrangement evolved into genuine affection as they witnessed our children’s personalities emerge and helped navigate the complex logistics of multiple infant schedules.
“I never imagined I’d need three nannies.” Willa laughs while watching Treva efficiently change Alexei’s diaper despite his attempts to escape. “Or that I’d trust anyone else with our children this completely.”
“They’ve earned that trust.” I observe Shanae’s patient efforts to convince Chloe that breakfast puree deserves serious consideration rather than artistic exploration. “These women have become family in every way that matters.”
The transformation of our lives extends beyond domestic arrangements into fundamental shifts in identity and purpose. I wake each morning to sounds of infant babbling rather than tactical briefings, and I’ve learned to find excitement in first words instead of territorial victories.
“Harper will be here soon to help you dress.” I check my watch while mentally reviewing the ceremony timeline. “Timur is coordinating with the officiant and ensuring our security remains invisible but thorough.”
Even in legitimate business, certain precautions are necessary when hosting gatherings that include former associates and high-profile business partners. The villa’s security system rivals any government installation, but today’s measures focus on privacy rather than defense.
“How many guests confirmed?” Willa moves to check on the babies.
“Eighteen adults plus our seven tiny critics.” I lift Katarina when she reaches for me with imperious demands that brook no delay. “The gathering is small enough to feel intimate but large enough to include everyone who matters.” The guest list represents a blend of old and new associates.
“Dr. Layton seems excited about seeing the babies again.” Willa settles beside me on the sofa, and Anastasia immediately crawls toward her with single-minded determination. “She’s been tracking their development since birth even though she’s no longer their doctor.”
“Professional pride.” I bounce Katarina gently. “Seven healthy one-year-olds probably look good on her resume.”
The morning flies by chaotically as our house transforms into a wedding venue. Florists arrange white roses throughout the rooms while caterers set up food that works for adults and babies. There are a few photographers already snapping pictures.
“I need to go get ready.” Willa stands reluctantly, torn between bridal prep and baby supervision. “Promise you’ll keep them from destroying anything important?”
“I promise to keep both the house and my sanity intact until you get back.” I kiss her softly. “Take your time getting beautiful, though you already are.” She disappears upstairs where Harper waits with a dress I haven’t seen yet.
The next two hours unfold quickly as May, Shanae, and Treva transform seven active toddlers into tiny wedding participantsdressed in soft linen that’ll survive inevitable messes. Their efficiency makes the impossible look routine.
“They look like angels.” Treva adjusts Aidan’s miniature bow tie. “Until they start moving, and then you remember they’re children of chaos.”
I laugh at the assessment since it’s mostly true. “Their mother’s intelligence makes them dangerous.” I scoop up Alexei and Nikolai simultaneously, amazed by how natural this has become. “Seven brilliant kids with unlimited energy and no sense of proper behavior is bound to create chaos.”
Timur appears in formal wear that makes him look almost civilian. His discomfort with emotional events shows, but he’s here anyway because that’s what brothers do. “The officiant’s ready, guests are seated, and Security confirms no uninvited visitors.” His report covers both celebration and caution. “Everything’s on schedule.”
“Thank you for standing with me today and supporting choices that probably seem crazy from your perspective.” The gratitude covers years of shared danger and sacrifice.
“Crazy, yes. Wrong, no.” His rare smile carries genuine warmth. “You found something worth protecting that doesn’t need violence to maintain. That’s wisdom.”