“Mom...” His voice was soft but firm, carrying the same stubborn fire Dmitri had in his youth, quiet yet unyielding. “You still haven’t answered me. Is my research about my papa... right?”
My chest tightened, each heartbeat echoing in my ears like a drum.
I swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
My throat felt raw. “Vanya...” I began, my voice trembling, “your papa... he’s a complicated man. He loves you, I promise, more than anything. But he... he’s made mistakes, many mistakes, and sometimes grown-ups do things you don’t understand.”
He tilted his head, curiosity undimmed, and I could see the question burning in his dark eyes. “Mama... did he know I existed?”
My heart shattered at the innocence of the question.
I swallowed, forcing calm into my voice. “Yes, sweetheart. He knew. But things happened... and I had to keep you safe. That was my job.”
He nodded, as if absorbing the answer, and my chest tightened further.
There was no way to explain the chaos of love, betrayal, and danger without shattering his small, perfect world.
I brushed a curl from his forehead, inhaling the faint scent of lavender soap, and whispered, “Soon, you’ll meet him, Vanya. I promise. But for now... let’s just go see the boats.”
He squeezed my hand, trust and hope radiating from him, and I had to fight to keep my own tears in check.
“What time do we leave?”
“Anytime now,” I said, pushing away the flaring panic in my chest. “Go pack, sweetheart.”
He walked toward his room, carrying himself like a little lord, every step measured.
Even at five, Vanya had the poise of a boy born to command attention, his dark curls bouncing lightly as he disappeared behind the door.
I called for Elias, my butler and the silent anchor of this Greek sanctuary. He appeared instantly, as if summoned by instinct, his gray hair immaculately combed, his posture rigid as the marble columns lining the estate.
“Elias,” I said, steadying my voice even though my heart pounded like a war drum, “we leave for Lake Como tonight. Arrange a flight immediately.”
He inclined his head, eyes glimmering with rare understanding beneath his calm exterior. “As you command, Madame. Shall I prepare Master Vanya’s belongings?”
“Yes,” I replied, swallowing against the lump in my throat. “He’s coming with me.”
Elias inclined once more and withdrew silently, leaving me alone with Ruslan’s letter sprawled across the mahogany desk, the wax seal now broken but its weight lingering.
I crossed to the window, watching Vanya in his room.
He folded shirts with care, placed socks into a tiny bag, and carefully tucked the wooden boat atop everything—a small talisman he’d never part with.
Dmitri’s wedding loomed across the ocean, an altar I hadn’t imagined facing again, with Seraphina’s lithe form poised to take the place I’d fought, suffered, and bled to keep.
I shook my head, trying to banish the visions of Lake Como, of vows exchanged in a chapel dripping with cold gold, of his eyes—haunted, distant, yet eternally mine. No. I wouldn’t let that happen. Not to Vanya. Not to us.
I packed a small bag for myself, each movement methodical, each item a tether to the life I had built and the life I had yet to reclaim.
Ruslan’s words pulsed in my mind like a beacon: “You’re his wife. You’re the mother of his child.”For five years, I had hidden. For five years, I had survived. Now, survival demanded action.
As dusk bled into the sky, painting it with bruised amber and violet streaks, I dressed Vanya in his navy jacket, his eyes bright and alive, masking nothing of the curiosity and courage I had cultivated in him.
“Will there really be boats in Italy, Mama?” he asked, his small hand clutching mine, the wooden boat now snugly tucked in his pocket.
I knelt to meet his gaze, forcing a reassuring smile through the tightness in my chest. “Yes, my love,” I said softly. “But we’re going to find someone very important. Someone who will love you as much as I do.”
The words hung heavy in the room, a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep—but a promise I would try.
