Chapter 26 – Adrian
It’s been five months, and somehow, every single day, I love her more.
Jennie is radiant. Not just glowing—radiant. There’s a calmness in her now, even when she’s hurling a butter knife at my head because I ate the last of the strawberry jam.
Which I did. And I’d do it again.
“Why would you do that?” she says now, hands on her round belly, glaring at me from across the breakfast table. “You know I need that jam, Adrian.”
I lift my hands like I’m surrendering to an armed hostage negotiator. “You also said you needed Nutella two days ago. I bought six jars.”
“That was two days ago.” She stabs a piece of buttered toast like it personally offended her. “Now it’s jam. It’s not that hard to understand.”
I grin. “You want me to go to the store?”
She lifts her chin. “No. You’ll buy the wrong brand. Again.”
“I’ll call Zalar,” I say solemnly. “He’s never let you down with jam. Or sour gummies. Or that weird seaweed you suddenly wanted at 2 a.m. last week.”
She narrows her eyes at me but doesn’t argue. Instead, she exhales dramatically and mutters, “I miss when my hormones weren’t running this show.”
I walk around the table and lean down, brushing her wild curls back from her face. “Your hormones can run the show. I’ll just be the guy in the front row clapping for them.”
Her lips twitch like she wants to stay mad, but I kiss her forehead and she lets out a soft sound, her nose wrinkling adorably.
“Oh God.” She gags slightly. “You’re wearing that sandalwood perfume again.”
I blink, amused. “You said you liked it. Yesterday. You literally told me to wear it more.”
“Yeah, well.” She fans the air. “Today it’s too strong. Too…musky. It’s trying to climb into my nostrils and set up a campfire.”
I laugh under my breath, pulling away. “Okay, okay. I’ll change it. No campfires in nostrils. Got it.”
She watches me like she’s waiting for me to be mad.
“Don’t apologize,” I say before she can. “Babe, stop apologizing to me. You’re carrying our baby. If sandalwood makes you gag, I’ll burn the damn bottle.”
She giggles and yawns, falling into my arms. “I’m tired. Sooo sleepy.”
I guide her toward the table and gently sit her down. “Nope. Not yet. You need to eat before you go back upstairs and hibernate like a pregnant bear.”
She narrows her eyes but lets me tuck the napkin over her lap. I load her plate with the only things she’ll touch this week—scrambled eggs, toast with strawberry jam, and diced mangoes.
“This mango is warm,” she says, inspecting a piece suspiciously.
I take it from her and pop it into my own mouth. “Then I’ll get you a cold one. No warm mango on my watch.”
Her lips twitch. “You’re annoying.”
“And yet…here I am.” I lean down, kissing the side of her neck—far, far from the sandalwood zone.
She hums. Eats. Bit by bit. I don’t leave her side. Not until she’s scraped most of the plate and sipped her juice.
“Okay, now you can sleep.” I’m already in front of her, crouching slightly. “Come on.”
She frowns. “Adrian, no. I’m too heavy now. Don’t—”
It’s the same argument every time. I lift her into my arms like she weighs nothing.
“You’re not heavy. You’re just right.” I kiss her cheek. “Besides, this is why I train every morning. Not for Bratva intimidation. For you.”
She lets out a laugh against my shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously strong. Ridiculously obsessed. Ridiculously in love.”
She doesn’t argue. Just nestles against me and sighs, a soft, contented sound that makes my chest ache in the best way.
I carry her up the stairs, nodding at the two guards outside the hall door. They look away like they’re not amused, but I can see the slight smirk on one of their faces.
Inside our bedroom, I place her gently on the bed. She stretches out like she’s melting into the sheets, one hand absently resting on her belly.
I kneel beside the bed, brushing hair from her forehead. “Anything else you need, malyshka?”
She hums. “Just you. Right there.” She taps the space beside her. “But I might fall asleep in five seconds.”
“That’s okay. I’ll wait until you do.”
I climb into bed and pull the blanket over her, tucking it around her with reverence. She’s halfway asleep already, lashes fluttering, fingers curled against my chest.
I watch her until her breathing evens out before slipping away from under her and hurrying out to attend to my business of the day.
Zalar nods at me outside the room. “Your 9 a.m.’s been waiting since breakfast.”
“I’m coming.”
The hall is quiet, the sun just beginning to warm the marble floors as I make my way to my office. My lawyer, Grigori, rises as I enter, all crisp lines and cold calculation wrapped in a three-piece suit.
“Boss,” he greets with a shallow nod.
I motion for him to sit. “Let’s get to it.”
He opens the slim black briefcase in front of him and lays the papers out, neat and clean and lethal in what they mean. “The documents are just as you instructed. All of it.”
I sit, reading silently, flipping through each page slowly. This isn’t just business. This is my life being rewritten. For her. For the child she’s carrying.
Grigori shifts. “Adrian,” he says, dropping the formal tone, “I’m your lawyer, but also your friend. So let me ask—are you absolutely sure about this? This is…a massive shift in your structure. In your power.”
I set the last page down, look up, and meet his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
He exhales through his nose and hands me the pen. I don’t hesitate. I sign on every line.
When I’m done, I slide the folder back across the table.
“It’s done,” Grigori says, voice low. “Your legacy just changed.”
“No,” I say. “It just began.”
Grigori watches me as I push the folder back across the desk.
“That’s everything,” he says. “As of today, Jennie Rusnak owns every legitimate holding under your name. Properties. Companies. Offshores. And when the child is of age, they’ll be written in as a joint heir. The clause is locked.”
I lean back in my chair, watching the way the sunlight filters through the blinds, slicing across the desk like prison bars. It’s fitting.
This isn’t a backup plan. This is surrender.
Not of power—but of legacy. Of everything I ever clawed and bled for. Handed over willingly to a woman who once looked at me like I was her captor.
Now she looks at me like I’m her home.
I nod once. “If I die, it all goes to her. She decides what happens next.”
Grigori clears his throat. “You understand what that means? If something goes wrong, if enemies smell blood—”
“I said what I said.”
His jaw tightens. “You’re not a man who’s ever trusted anyone with his empire, Adrian.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I say coldly. “Except her.”
He’s silent for a moment, then gathers the folder back into the case and clicks it shut.
“She’ll never need to know,” he offers.
“No,” I say. “She will. Just not yet.”
“Know what?”
The voice slices through the air—soft, but sharp.
I freeze. My head jerks toward the door.
Jennie stands there, barefoot, hand resting over the swell of her belly. Her brows are drawn together, lips slightly parted. There’s sleep in her eyes, but more than that, there’s worry.
Fuck.
I stand instantly. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was.” Her gaze narrows. “Then I woke up to use the bathroom and didn’t find you. I came looking….”
Grigori bows low and, without another word, slips out of the room. Coward.
Jennie’s eyes follow him out before landing on me again.
“What don’t I need to know?” she asks. “What were you not planning to tell me yet?”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. This wasn’t how I wanted her to find out. I wanted to wait. After the baby. After she rested. After things felt normal. But now she’s standing in front of me, already picturing the worst.
“Adrian.”
I cross the room to her, gently pulling her into my arms. She lets me, but she’s tense.
“I wasn’t hiding something bad,” I murmur. “I promise you that.”
“Then what?”
I hold her tighter, my hand sliding down to her belly as I guide her to the office couch and sit beside her. My arm stays firm around her back, as if I let go, the moment might slip through my fingers.
I reach for the file on the table and place it in her hands.
“Open it,” I say softly.
She flips it open, her brows drawing together as her eyes scan the first page. Then the second. Her breath catches.
She looks up at me slowly. “Adrian…what is this?”
“My legacy,” I answer. “Now yours.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “This—this is everything. Every business, every asset, every property…even the safehouses?”
I nod.
Her voice drops. “Why?”
I cup her cheek with one hand. “Because I meant it when I said you were my wife. You’re my family now. You’re carrying my child. That means everything I own belongs to you. Not in sentiment—on paper.”
She stares at me, lips parted. “But…Adrian, you didn’t need to do this.”
“Yes, I did,” I murmur. “I’ve spent my whole life building walls around myself, collecting power, making enemies. But for the first time, I want to build something real. Something permanent. You’re not just someone I love, Jennie. You’re my entire world. And if something ever happens to me—”
“Don’t say that,” she cuts in, her voice sharp with fear.
I press my forehead to hers, gently. “If something ever happens to me, I need to know that you and our baby are protected. That no one can take from you what I’ve bled to build.”
She swallows hard, staring at me like she’s trying to memorize this version of me—the man who puts her first.
“Adrian….” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I didn’t marry you for this.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “That’s why I gave it to you.”
Tears slip down her cheeks, and I wipe them gently.
“You’re everything to me, Jennie. Nothing else matters anymore.”
She leans in and kisses me—slow and deep and full of everything we never thought we’d find in this violent world: trust, peace, belonging.