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Roman closed the evidence file in front of him. “This foundation has my approval as well. I have enough information on every man in this room to make further clarification unnecessary.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “And Kirill has been rather twitchy lately. I believe he’s looking for a reason to break something. Would one of you like to volunteer?”

Kirill’s grin widened. “I’m hoping someone requires a demonstration since I also approve this foundation and if you know what is good for you and your organizations, you will too.”

The vote passed without another argument.

Roman replaced the agreement with a map of Sokolov’s former empire. Red marks covered the auction properties Kirill planned to demolish, while black lines divided everything worth keeping. Maksim had absorbed the ports into Morozov territory, Roman folded the financial corridors and political contacts into the Volkov network, and Kirill claimed the casinos for Popov because he liked the view and already had fucked-up ideas for the offices beneath them. I didn’t ask for details. Some questions only ruined a perfectly decent meal.

We weren’t cleaning up organized crime. But we were making a difference. My eyes burned as I took in the full scope of what they’d just done. What they’d accomplished. I knew exactly what the men around me were, and they knew I wouldn’t pretend otherwise. The men I loved came from a broken world, but they were choosing to create a world better than the one they’d inherited.

One of the council members shifted in his chair. “Some won’t cooperate without an incentive.”

Kirill picked up the file and kissed my temple on his way toward the door. “Leave the incentive to me, darling.” The man paled, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. The meeting ended, with the remaining Bratva members leaving behind Kirill.

Roman waited until it was just the two of us in the room before opening the account summary. The original thirty million remained untouched beneath the money taken from Sokolov, and four names controlled it now. He’d scrubbed Nora’s identity from every access structure and protected Mikhail’s records separately. Alina had no access at all. Any money paid to her under the agreement required all four of us to authorize the transfer. My name sat beside theirs with the same authority, and I still stared at it–unable to believe it–when I saw it in writing.

“Use whatever the estate needs for security and whatever the bakery needs to reopen.” I closed the summary before the numbers made my head hurt. “The rest should go to the organization.”

Maksim studied me as though waiting for the part where I asked permission. “You can use it for anything you choose.”

“I’m choosing to make sure Kirill doesn’t buy me a diamond-covered mixer.” I rolled my eyes because he’d been coming up with increasingly insane ideas for how to spend the money on things for me.

Roman glanced toward the closed door. “He already selected one.”

“Of course he fucking did.” I signed the account order and shoved it across the table. “Cancel it. I’m going to see Alina.” With that, I stood and made my way to the garden where Alina waited for me.

She stood with a cane pressed tight to her leg and her weight shifting often enough to prove she wasn’t recovered enough for the trek she’d just put her body through. She’d regained enough strength to walk from the medical wing without help, although the guard trailing ten feet behind her looked ready to catch her if stubbornness failed to hold her upright.

Nora and Mikhail raced around the fountain, their laughter mixing with the splash of water. Mikhail still checked for his mother whenever Nora disappeared behind the hedge, but today he didn’t stop running while he looked.

Alina held out the folder I’d given her last night. “I signed it.” The agreement gave her control of her medical care and a protected house close enough for Mikhail to see Nora whenever he chose. It also required her to ask before contacting my daughter, barred her from accessing our finances, and prevented her from moving Mikhail without explaining to us first.

“Thank you.” I took the folder and didn’t bother opening it. She’d been more truthful lately, which was a fucking godsend because I’d been sick to death of secrets for years and I couldn’t handle any more from her.

Her fingers curled around the cane, her throat dipping in an uneasy swallow. “Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”

“Some days I already have.” I rubbed my thumb against the silver ring on my finger. “Then I remember waking up chained to that chair because you put my fucking name where Sokolov could use it. I don’t know how many days there will be where both of those versions live inside me.”

Alina blinked quickly and nodded. “I can earn the good ones.”

“Mikhail gets a choice too.” I motioned toward the fountain, where he’d slowed so Nora could catch him. “If he wants to see us, you don’t disappear because staying scares you. When he asks about Dmitri, you tell him what he’s old enough to understand.”

Her face crumpled around the fear she’d spent years hiding, making her look younger. “I don’t know how to tell him his father died trying to save us.”

“You won’t do it alone.” I covered her hand before she dug her nails into the cane and hurt her fingers. “He needs the truth when he’s ready.”

“I made an appointment with the therapist Roman approved.” A tiny smile pulled at her mouth. “Her background check was longer than my medical file.”

Roman approached from the terrace with two cups of coffee. “Her history contained several unexplained gaps.”

Alina accepted one of the cups with a chuckle that did more to heal me than days of talking would. This was my sister. “She was eight.”

“Children can be deceptive.” He passed the second cup to me with a perfectly straight face.

Nora barreled into my legs, with Mikhail stopping safely outside the collision zone. “Mommy, Micky has never made cupcakes.”

“How has he survived?” I gasped and pressed a hand to my chest.

Mikhail shrugged, but a smile slipped through. “Can we make lemon ones?”