The scent of saffron and garlic drifted through the halls and up the stairs to the rooms.
My men were downstairs, and their voices boomed over one another as they drank and laughed, possibly slapping each other on the backs like proud uncles.
They were celebrating my Mira.
In all my years, I’d never seen the compound like that before. Guards had loosened their ties. The kitchen staff, usually quiet, hummed and chattered as they worked. Even the floors felt warmer, as though they too had caught the fever of new life.
A cheer rose from downstairs. The men were toasting again, shouting Mira’s name like we’d won something.
Later that night, the house was finally quiet.
The excitement of the day had melted into a quiet serenity. Mira slept soundly in the crib, and I stood in the doorway, watching mother and child.
Zoella sat beside the crib, gently smoothing over Mira’s baby hair.
Exhaustion showed on her features, with her eyes half-shut from the kind of tired that lived in her bones. But underneath the eye bags and teary eyes was a radiant glow that filled me with pride.
Zoella looked up, and for a heartbeat, our eyes locked.
“Is it strange that she looks like you when you’re not pretending to be made of stone?” she whispered.
I took a slow step into the room. “I never pretend. Iammade of stone.”
“And yet, you bawled your eyes out when Mira held your finger.”
Zoella was smiling now, eyes bright and gleaming with something that looked like admiration.
My hands clenched into fists. I didn’t know how to do this—how tobethis. A father or agoodhusband.
“She’s small,” I said, voice low. “All I can think about is how dangerous it is for her to be in a world like ours. She shouldn’t be in a world like this.”
Zoella blinked slowly, then turned back to Mira. “But we can’t send her back now, or can we?”
I sighed. “Zoella….”
“What do you want me to say?” She looked sad. “You know you’re right. I’ve known it even before today. But stating the obvious right now won’t change anything. What we can do is make it better. Create a better environment for her, so she won’t have to go through half the shit we’ve both been through.”
I dropped to my haunches beside her, not sure when my legs gave out. When I stole a glimpse at our sleeping daughter, I ached.
“I don’t know if I can,” I confessed.
Zoella leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. “You don’t have to know right now. We can figure it out together. All I need is for you to just try.”
Outside, mild thunder rolled far away, though much softer now, but I wanted to believe that the worst of the storm had passed.
Right here, with Zoella fast asleep in my arms, and Mira in the crib beside the bed, a new day had begun.
Chapter 29 – Matvey
The call had dragged for nearly fifteen minutes, and every second of it grated on my nerves like glass against teeth.
I stood by the window of my study, swirling the last inch of whiskey in my glass as some idiot on the other end droned on about logistics, permits, and how “the girls haven’t shown up consistently for the past three weekends.”
Like I hadn’t noticed the dip in revenue myself.
“Yuri,” I snapped, “I don’t give a fuck about their sick grandmothers or whatever sad story they’re selling this week. I pay for presence. For smiles. For legs and heels and mood lighting. Not ghost shifts.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Matvey,” Yuri replied with a sigh. “But you know, maybe nightclubs ain’t the thing right now. The market’s weird some nights. You know this. You ever thought about starting a farm? Chickens don’t call in sick.”
