“For security purposes only.”
“We’re going to have a baby. Babies don’t need shooting ranges.”
“Babies need protective fathers.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. “I can’t argue with that logic, and I hate it.”
I reach over, catch her hand, and press a kiss to her knuckles. “Trust me, you’ll love it,malyshka.”
Her expression softens instantly. That small smile—bright, unguarded—spreads across her face like sunlight. Her cheeks flush pink, eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
The road curves, cutting through another stretch of open desert before the landscape shifts. Low hills rise in the distance, and beyond them, the first glimpse of the house appears—white stone against the gold horizon, glass glinting in the sun.
Mary leans forward, palms braced on the dashboard.
“Anton…” Her voice trails off as the mansion grows larger with every turn.
I watch her instead of the road for a second. The way her eyes widen. The way the reflection of the house flashes across her irises, like she’s staring at something unreal. She looks back at me, then at the property again, like she’s trying to reconcile the man beside her with the empire waiting ahead.
The gates come into view. Twelve feet of iron and stone and cameras.
Mary sits up straighter. “Is that… Are those our gates?”
“Yes.”
“Anton. Those are very big gates.”
“The property is very big.”
“How big?”
I punch in the code. The gates swing open silently. “You’ll see.”
We drive through. The private road winds through desert landscape, red rock and scrub brush and nothing else for miles.
“This feels very ‘mob boss takes his enemies to the desert to dispose of bodies,’” Mary says.
“I would never dispose of bodies on our property. That’s bad for resale value.”
“That’s what concerns you? Resale value?”
“I’m a practical man.”
She’s smiling despite herself. I can see it.
The estate appears gradually. Guest houses first. Then the main structure.
Mary goes silent.
Completely silent.
I glance at her. She’s staring. Mouth slightly open. Eyes wide.
“Anton,” she breathes. “What the hell is that?”
“Our house.”
“That’s not a house. That’s a… That’s a compound. That’s a fortress. That’s where billionaires hide when the apocalypse comes.”
