Kirill sat beside me, skipping his endless family ledgers for once, setting aside his laptop. His hand covered mine, fingers tracing my ring finger.
"Regret coming back with me?" he asked suddenly.
I shook my head, smirking bitterly. "Too late now— can't exactly jump out of a plane."
"If you jumped, I'd jump after you." He squeezed my hand, dead serious.
But he didn't need to prove it. I trusted him.
After all that danger, I just wanted us to trust each other.
As the convoy rolled through Orlov Manor's massive iron gates, sunset draped the old building in gold.
The door opened to rows of uniformed staff bowing in unison. Their voices echoed. "Welcome home, madam!"
I took a deep breath, stepping out in heels.
Olga stood at the top of the marble steps, leaning on her gold-inlaid cane. Her silver hair was perfect, still commanding, but her sharp eyes softened to tears at the sight of Aiden in my arms.
"Harper..." She hurried down, forgetting poise.
"Olga." I rushed to hug her tight.
"You finally came back— you're cruel, you know how I went crazy missing Aiden?"
"Now you can see him every day. And I bet he'll call you grandma soon." I patted her back, glancing at Kirill, his eyes full of relief and pride.
But the warmth didn't last. Soon I was whisked to thedressing room, learning Kirill had secretly planned a dinner party— how he'd managed from San Francisco, sick as he was, was beyond me.
With Anna's help, I slipped into a deep purple silk gown, hugging my fuller, curvier figure. I didn't hide my freckles anymore; they glowed wild in the candlelight.
The party buzzed with people— Orlov's power had grown, drawing even more guests.
Anna pushed me onstage, clueless about the plan. Then Kirill raised a glass, walking toward me.
"A year ago on Valentine's, I gave you a contract, treated you like a marriage prop."
He pulled out a black velvet box and knelt.
"Harper Evans." On one knee. "I don't ask forgiveness for my stupidity. I just beg you to marry me again. This time, I'll make it up to you with everything I've got."
Tears blurred my vision, flashing back to desperate moments, freezing on his back as he took the bullet for me.
"I do."
He slid the ring on, stood, cupped my nape, and kissed me long, tasting of red wine.
Applause and cheers erupted, but they faded distantly.
Kirill's kiss was demanding yet tender, laced with wine and his pine scent. I closed my eyes, arms around his neck, feeling the heat from his lips and tongue.
"Enough, Kirill— don't bully Harper in front of everyone." Olga coughed deliberately, indulgent. "Guests are waiting to toast."
Kirill pulled back, forehead to mine, voice husky. "Sorry, couldn't help it."
My face burned, hearing the crowd's good-natured laughs. He took my hand, leading me down to greet well-wishers.
The next hour dragged like torture.
