63
Konstantin
The helicopter lands just after sunset. I cut through the gardens, avoiding the main entrance. Less chance of questions. Less chance of having to explain where I’ve been for eleven days.
Not that I need to explain myself to anyone. This is my house. My family.
Except it doesn’t feel that way anymore. Oleg’s updates have continued daily—the children’s schedules, their activities, their meals. Hearing about my own home like I’m some distant relative. A fucking spectator to my own life.
The wind picks up as I climb the stairs to the rooftop observatory. Alya begged for it last year—something about becoming an astronaut-princess. Cost nearly half a million to install the professional equipment. Worth every cent when I saw her face.
I pause at the door, hearing voices. A male laugh—deeper than Nikolai’s. Julian. And then her voice, soft with just an edge of steel. Bella.
Eleven days.
I push open the door. The night air hits my face, carrying the salt from the ocean. The sky above is clear, stars spread across black velvet. Perfect visibility. The rooftop is designed to maximize the view, with glass barriers that don’t obstruct the horizon.
They don’t notice me at first. Julian stands tall—taller than I expected—with his back straight and shoulders set. Protective. The stance of someone who’s had to be the man of the house too young. I recognize it because I lived it.
Bella sits on one of the loungers, wearing a light blue dress that makes her eyes look like the deepest part of the ocean. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, moving gently in the wind. She’s… glowing. There’s no other word for it. Something about the starlight catches on her skin, making her look ethereal.
For a moment, I just watch them. Brother and sister. The family they built without parents. The bond forged in that absence.
Then Julian turns, sensing my presence. His posture shifts instantly—spine straightening, chin lifting. The universal stance of a young man trying to prove something.
I cross the distance, stopping a few feet away. Extend my hand.
“Julian Marquez,” I say, keeping my voice even. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Konstantin Belov. Bella’s husband.” I pause, noting the wariness in his eyes. What the hell. Might as well address the elephant on the roof. “And yes, to answer your question—this is indeed a crime family.”
His eyes widen, but to his credit, he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he takes my hand, his grip firm.
“Nice to finally meet you,” he says, with just enough emphasis on ‘finally’ to make his point.
I deserve that.
“I apologize for not being here when you arrived,” I tell him. “Business has been… complicated.”
“Seems to be going around,” Julian says, glancing at his sister.
Bella looks away, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. The silence stretches uncomfortably.
“I hear you’re excelling at Blackwood,” I say, changing the subject. “Top of your class in Physics and European History. And the soccer team’s new forward, correct? Coach Richards thinks you might be their ticket to championships this year.”
Julian blinks, clearly surprised. “You know about that?”
“Of course. I receive weekly reports.”
“Reports?” Bella echoes, looking between us.
“Standard procedure,” I shrug. “I like to know what happens in my household. That includes academic achievements and extracurricular activities.”
“You didn’t tell me Julian was playing soccer,” Bella says, her voice carrying a hint of accusation.
Julian shifts uncomfortably. “It just happened last week. Haven’t had a chance to mention it.”
Another silence falls. This one heavier.
“Well,” Julian says, dragging the word out, “I should probably check on Lila. Make sure she’s not teaching Alya how to pick locks or something.”
