Tears blur my vision. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “I’m going to help you and Mikhail build something better. The legitimate businesses, the strategic planning, all of it. I believe in what you’re trying to do.”
“But you’re still overseeing some of the mafia operations.” It’s not a question. Mikhail and I agreed that going completely legitimate would leave us too vulnerable, too exposed to enemies who would see it as weakness.
“For now,” Tony confirms. “Until the transition is complete. Until Mikhail’s position is secure enough that walking away won’t trigger a war.” He leans forward. “But I promise you, Sophia, I’m working toward the day when we can all leave thatlife behind. When your daughter can grow up without looking over her shoulder.”
“Daughter?” I place my free hand on my belly, feeling the flutter of movement. “How do you know it’s a girl?”
“Just a feeling.” His smile widens. “And she’s going to be just as stubborn and brilliant as her mother.”
We talk about everything then.
About our childhood, the good memories mixed with the bad.
About Dad, and how we’re both still processing the truth of what happened to him.
About Mom, who died when I was so young I barely remember her face.
“Do you think about them?” I ask. “Our parents?”
“All the time.” Tony’s expression grows distant. “I think about what Dad could have been if he hadn’t gotten mixed up with the wrong people. If he’d gotten help for his drinking instead of drowning in it. And Mom…” He swallows hard. “I wish you could have known her better. She was kind, Sophia. So kind it hurt her to see the world as it really was.”
“Tell me about her.” I need this, need to hear about the mother I lost too soon.
So he does.
He tells me about her laugh, how it sounded like music. About the way she used to sing while cooking, old Italian songs her grandmother taught her.
About how she’d read to us every night, even when Dad was raging in the other room, her voice steady and calm like she could create a bubble of safety with just her words.
“She would have loved you so much,” Tony says, his voice breaking. “She would have been so proud of the woman you’ve become.”
Another contraction hits, stronger this time, and I gasp. Tony’s on his feet instantly, his hand on the call button.
“I’m okay,” I manage. “It’s just…they’re getting closer together.”
The door opens and Mikhail rushes in, his face pale. “What’s wrong?”
“Contractions,” I tell him. “They’re getting stronger.”
A nurse follows him in, checking the monitors with practiced efficiency. Her expression grows serious as she studies the readouts.
“I’m going to get the doctor,” she says, her voice carefully neutral in that way medical professionals have when they’re trying not to alarm you.
Mikhail takes my hand, and Tony moves to stand at the foot of the bed.
My brother and my husband, the two most important men in my life, both looking at me with identical expressions of fear and determination.
“Whatever happens,” I tell them both, “we face it together. No more secrets. No more trying to protect each other by hiding the truth. We’re family, and family sticks together.”
“Always,” Tony promises.
“Forever,” Mikhail adds, his thumb stroking across my knuckles.
Dr. Chen enters, her expression grave as she reviews my chart. “Mrs. Artyomov, your contractions are increasing in frequency and intensity. The baby is showing signs of distress. We need to prepare for the possibility of an emergency delivery.”
“But it’s too early.” My voice sounds small, frightened. “She’s only seven months.”
