His hand slides protectively over my belly. “Now we build.”
We fall asleep wrapped in each other, heartbeat to heartbeat.
EPILOGUE I
ASTRID
Five months later…
The Ivanov mansion is quiet, eerily so. No distant shouting from the kitchen staff, no clinking of glasses, no muffled bass line from Lev’s godawful playlist bleeding through the walls. Just soft light through the leaded windows and the hush of old money breathing in its sleep.
I wander slowly, fingertips grazing the polished wood banister.
The house feels less like a fortress today.
I glance down at my huge belly and laugh. The babies are awake and on the move.
A smile starts to bloom. This moment, this body, this life. Against every force that tried to break us, we survived.
A voice cuts through the silence, light and familiar. “Everything alright?”
I glance up. Maura stands at the top of the stairs, hair swept up in soft waves, holding a mug. Her expression is warm and perceptive.
“I’m fine,” I say, smoothing a hand over my bump. “Just taking it all in.”
She studies me for a second, then smiles. “Come up. I need a second opinion on a couple of outfits. Lev thinks everything I wear is perfect, which makes him entirely useless for this.”
I giggle. Maura’s been a godsend lately—steady, smart, and quietly funny. She’s become a true friend, and I’m eternally grateful for her.
I start up the stairs, taking them slowly, one at a time.
“You know, the elevator exists for a reason,” she teases.
I huff out a laugh. “I have to get in my steps somehow. It’s either this or one of those bouncing pregnancy ball things, and I refuse to become that mom.”
Maura chuckles as I walk the rest of the way up. Her room is just down the hall, the doorway open. I can smell her perfume before we reach it, something floral and clean.
She nudges the door wider with her hip, guiding me in. “Alright, fashion judge. Prepare yourself for sequins and one absolutely unhinged jumpsuit Lev picked out.”
I follow her into the dressing room, my heart light.
Maura holds up a dark green dress against her frame, inspecting it in the mirror before turning to me. “Too serious?”
I tilt my head. “Only if you’re planning to deliver a closing argument instead of going dancing. Try the navy with the slit.”
She snorts and tosses the green one aside. Her dressing room is part war zone, part boutique—racks of gowns, heels, a small velvet settee buried beneath silk and sequins. I lower myself into the only chair not drowning in fabric.
Maura glances at me and smiles. “The gown you picked is a showstopper. Trying it on for a test drive before tonight?”
I nod. “I plan to. It's impossible to know what’s going to fit when you’ve got a belly with its own gravitational field.”
She laughs. “You look radiant. Like a dangerously glamorous fertility goddess.”
I smile, her words landing sweet and warm.
Her expression shifts to something more thoughtful. “Nervous?”
I lift a shoulder. “A bit. I mean, the annual Ivanov gala isn’t exactly a book club potluck.”
