It’s so perfectly Ravi—taking everything with the utmost seriousness.
The twins scramble off the bed, sticky fingers and all, racing for the door. Nevaeh moves to follow them, but I catch her arm and pull her back. My lips find hers in a kiss of affection.
“Good morning, mia bella ballerina,” I murmur against her mouth.
She smirks, a mischievous glint in her gaze. “Good morning,Beasty.”
I want to pull her back into bed and spend the morning wrapped around her like we used to before kids made our intimate mornings a rare occurrence.
But she slips from my grasp with a laugh, following our children out of the room.
I take my time getting up, stretching muscles that don’t ache as badly as they used to.
The last three years have been... incredible. They’ve been unexpected.. Everything I never knew I wanted.
My marriage to Nevaeh is full of love and passion. The kind of partnership I saw other men have and assumed wasn’t meant for brutal mafia men like me. But she challenges me, supportsme, calls me on my bullshit when necessary, and loves me despite my rough edges and many scars.
And watching her become a mother? It’s made me fall in love with her all over again in a whole new way. The fierce protectiveness, the gentle patience, and the way she cares for our children show how extraordinary she is.
The twins are... everything. Exhausting and hilarious and so full of personality it amazes us daily. They’ve turned this cold estate into an actual warm home. Their laughter echoes through halls that used to only know silence and cobwebs.
Work has been better than ever too. The Ziccardi family dominates Dresden in ways my father could never achieve. But I don’t rule through outright fear like Nero and the Vorones did.
My people are loyal because I’m fair but tough and uncompromising, not because they’re terrified.
Dresden is mine. But more importantly, I have a life outside of the empire. I have a family worth coming home to.
My heart condition still exists—I’ll never be completely free of it. But without the experimental treatments poisoning me, it’s improved dramatically. It’s more or less manageable. Some days I barely notice it. Others, I need to be more careful and get rest, allowing Dr. Tulio to monitor me.
But I’m alive. Strong enough to do things like play with my kids, make love to my wife, and run my empire.
It’s more than I ever thought I’d have.
I head downstairs, passing Ms. Poitier in the hallway. She’s carrying a laundry basket, her face breaking into a warm smile when she sees me.
“Glad you’re getting rest, C,” she says.
I wink at her. “Hard to rest with our two little ones as an alarm clock.”
The breakfast room is warm and bright, morning sun lighting the room by way of the windows. Nevaeh sits at the table withRavi and Siena on either side of her, both wielding plastic sporks against plates of pancakes. Syrup is everywhere—their faces, their fingers, somehow in Siena’s hair.
I kiss Nevaeh’s cheek as I pass, breathing in her sweet scent, then take my seat across from them.
“Daddy, look!” Siena holds up her pancake piece triumphantly. “I cutted it all by myself!”
“You did an excellent job, principessa,” I tell her proudly.
Ravi is much more methodical, eating his pancakes in a specific pattern—clockwise around the plate, cutting each piece to the exact same size. So perfectly Ravi.
Nevaeh catches my eye, and we share a smile. One of our parental smiles that says can you believe this is our life? How did we get so lucky?
Then she leans over, close enough that her breath tickles my ear, and whispers five simple words that stop my heart.
“By the way, I’m pregnant.”
I turn to look at her; the smile on her face is radiant and knowing. Full of joy and mischief and love.
She’s serious. She’s expecting, something we’ve been working toward again to fill up our household even more.
