"It's nothing. Just..." I search for words that won't sound pathetic. "Mila. When she finds out what I did to protect her. What I became. Will she still?—"
"She already knows." His voice softens. "Not the details. But she knows you killed men who came for her. She knows you fight for this family. And she told Andrei last week that you're her real mother now. That Elena was just DNA."
The words hit like a punch to the chest. I can't breathe past the sudden pressure behind my ribs.
"She said that?"
"Exact words. 'Izzy's my real mom. She protects me like Papa does. Mama never did that.'" His eyes search mine. "She chose you, Isabelle. The way you chose her."
"I didn't choose her." The words slip out before I can stop them. "I mean—I did, but not consciously. She just... became mine. Somewhere between burnt cookies and hospital beds and teaching her that families are built, not born."
"That's how it works." He pulls me closer, forehead resting against mine. "You don't choose to love someone. You just wake up one day and realize you'd burn the world to keep them safe."
The confession sits between us, heavy and undeniable. He's not just talking about Mila anymore.
"Sergei—"
"The blackmail." He says it quietly, like he's been waiting for the right moment. "The custody case. You never told me how you did it."
My pulse kicks up. "I mentioned it last night."
"You mentioned it existed. Not how you pulled it off." His eyes hold mine, not angry—curious. Maybe proud. "Tell me."
I could deflect. Change the subject. But we're past that now, past the careful boundaries we've been pretending exist.
"Judge Leroy was going to rule in Elena's favor. Next week. Wesley confirmed it through his courthouse contact." I watch his expression carefully. "She would've taken Mila from you. Limited your visitation. Made it so you barely saw your daughter."
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't interrupt.
"I found leverage. The judge's son—Princeton, full scholarship. Academic integrity violation two years ago, plagiarism that should've gotten him expelled. Someone paid to make it go away, and I found out who." My voice steadies as I continue. "Tallulah visited Judge Leroy. Private meeting. Gave her a choice—recuse herself from your case, or the bribe goes public."
Silence stretches between us. His expression is unreadable—that Wolf mask he wears when he's calculating, assessing.
"You blackmailed a family court judge."
"I protected your daughter." My chin lifts. "Elena was going to take Mila from you. Use her as leverage. Make you suffer because she could. I wasn't going to let that happen."
"When did you do this?"
"Last week. Tuesday. Before Elena died." I force myself to hold his gaze. "Before any of this fell apart."
Something shifts in his expression. Not the anger I expected. Not disappointment.
Pride.
"You blackmailed a judge," he repeats slowly, "while I was investigating your uncle. While we were still pretending this marriage was fake. While you were still playing the polished heiress who doesn't get her hands dirty."
"I wasn't playing?—"
"Yes, you were." His hand slides into my hair, grip firm but not painful. "You were pretending this whole time. Pretending you weren't as ruthless as the rest of your family. Pretending you needed protection instead of being the most dangerous person in the room."
"Sergei—"
"You're terrifying." The word comes out rough. Reverent. "You know that? Absolutely fucking terrifying."
"Is that... good?"
"It's everything." He kisses me then—slow and deep and claiming. Not the desperate collision of last night. This is different. Recognition. Two predators finally seeing each other clearly.
