“I’m fine.” I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his. “But you’re not.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I squeeze his hand. “Don’t. I can see it. You’re trying to be here for me while your entire organization is falling apart, and it’s tearing you in two.”
His jaw clenches, and he looks away. “I made you a promise. I said I was choosing family over the empire.”
“I know what you said.” I shift carefully, mindful of the doctor’s orders about bed rest. “But I’m starting to realize that it’s not that simple. Is it?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough with emotion. “No. It’s not.”
My heart aches at the admission. I’ve been so focused on my own fears, on protecting our baby from the violence of his world, that I haven’t fully understood the impossible position I’ve put him in. He can’t just walk away. What he’s been saying all along, I’m finally realizing. Too many people depend on him. Too many lives are tied to the decisions he makes.
“Tell me what’s happening,” I say. “Really tell me. Don’t try to protect me from it.”
He looks at me, searching my face for something.
Permission, maybe.
Or understanding.
“The Volkovs hit three of our warehouses yesterday. They’re testing us, seeing if my going legitimate means we’re weak. I’ve had to rebuild some of the old business, and some of my own men are questioning whether I’m still fit to lead if I’m spending all my time here instead of handling business.”
The words settle over me like a weight.
This is my fault.
My complications, my demands that he go fully legitimate and choose between me and his responsibilities, have created a power vacuum that his enemies are rushing to fill.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“No.” He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “A pakhan who shows weakness gets replaced. Or killed. And everyone who depends on him suffers the consequences.”
I think about all the families connected to his organization.
The men who work for him, their wives and children.
The legitimate businesses that employ hundreds of people.
The delicate balance of power that keeps the city from descending into all-out war between the families.
It’s not just about us. It’s never been just about us.
“I’ve been selfish,” I say, the realization hitting me with the force of a physical blow. “I’ve been so focused on what I want, on the life I think we should have, that I haven’t considered what walking away would actually mean.”
“You’re not selfish.” His voice is fierce. “You’re trying to protect our child. That’s not selfish, Sophia. That’s being a good mother.”
“But I’m not being a good wife.” Tears burn my eyes, and I blink them back. “I’ve been giving you ultimatums, threatening to leave, making you choose between impossible options. And all I’ve done is make everything worse.”
He cups my face in his hands, his green eyes intense. “You haven’t made anything worse. You’ve made me see what really matters. You’ve made me want to be better.”
“But wanting to be better and actually being able to change are two different things.” I lean into his touch, drawing strength from his warmth. “Your world doesn’t allow for half measures. I’m starting to understand that now.”
His phone buzzes again, and I see the conflict flash across his face. Answer it and prove that business will always come first or ignore it and let whatever crisis is brewing get worse.
“Answer it,” I tell him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief and gratitude war in his expression as he pulls out his phone. “It’s Tony.”
I nod, and he stands, moving back to the window.
