Epilogue
Tigran
Six months ago, when I held our first child in my arms for the first time, I thought I understood what parenthood would mean.
I believed it would be about protection and provision, and ensuring our children inherited power and security.
I imagined myself teaching them about business and strategy, preparing them to eventually take over responsibilities I’d inherited from my father if that was what they chose.
I was wrong about all of it.
The compound that serves as our home bears no resemblance to the sterile mansion where I grew up.
Instead of silence broken only by business meetings, our days are filled with the sounds of six babies who have transformed everything about how I understand family, love, and what it means to build a legacy worth leaving.
The nursery spans the entire east wing of the house, with six cribs arranged so each child can see their siblings while maintaining the individual space Dr. Kozlova recommended for healthy development.
Mikhail, our firstborn, sleeps with the focused intensity he’s shown since birth, already demonstrating the leadership qualities his name suggests.
Anastasia lies beside him, beautiful and serene, occasionally making the soft sounds that indicate she’s dreaming.
Viktor occupies the crib closest to the windows, where morning light reveals features that blend Zita’s with mine. Natalia, small but fierce, has claimed the spot that allows her to observe everything happening around her with sharp awareness that suggests she’ll be formidable as she grows up.
Claude sleeps with one tiny fist curled near his face, while Isabella, our youngest, rests peacefully in the knowledge that she’s surrounded by family who will protect and love her unconditionally.
“They’re all asleep at the same time.” Zita’s voice carries amazement as she joins me in the nursery doorway. “Dr. Kozlova said this wouldn’t happen regularly until they were at least eight months old.”
“They’re exceptional children.” I watch their synchronized breathing, still amazed that these six perfect beings came from our love for each other. “Everything about them has exceeded expectations.”
“Including their parents’ ability to keep them all fed, clean, and happy simultaneously.” Zita settles beside me, and I can see the confidence she’s developed over the past months of motherhood. “I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to handle six babies at once.”
“You’ve handled it better than anyone could have imagined.” The truth carries admiration and gratitude that grow stronger each day. “You’ve become exactly the mother they needed.”
“We’ve become exactly the parents they needed.” Zita corrects gently. “I couldn’t do this without you, and you couldn’t do it without me…and we couldn’t do it without our three nannies,” she adds with a wry smile.
The partnership she describes has evolved far beyond what either of us expected when we reluctantly entered into marriage.
We’ve learned to anticipate each other’s needs, to share responsibilities in ways that maximize our individual strengths, and to support each other through the exhaustion and overwhelming joy that comes with raising six children simultaneously.
“Dmitri wants to schedule a meeting about the Miami expansion.” I mention the business call that came while she was pumping milk that will be mixed with the formula we have to use to feed the babies. “The Markov family is interested in establishing formal cooperation agreements.”
“Are you interested in formal cooperation with the Markovs?” Zita’s question reflects her role as my partner, not just the mother of my children.
“I’m interested in stability and legitimate revenue streams that don’t require violence to maintain.” I’ve spent months developing business models that prioritize sustainability over short-term profits. “The Miami operation offers both.”
“Then schedule the meeting. Please make it clear we’re not interested in anything that increases security risks to our children.”
The conversation reflects how completely our priorities have shifted. Business decisions are now evaluated based on their impact on our family’s safety and stability, not just their potential for generating revenue or expanding influence.
“There’s something else.” I turn to face her fully. “I’ve been thinking about our first family vacation.”
“Vacation?” Zita’s eyebrows rise with interest and surprise.
“The private island in the Caribbean that we discussed months ago.” I pull out property documents I’ve been reviewing. “The one with the airstrip and security arrangements that would allow the children to play without bodyguards hovering over them.”
“You want to take six six-month-old babies on vacation to a private island?” Zita’s question carries amusement rather than skepticism.
“I want to give our children their first taste of the freedom we’ve been promising them.” I show her photos of beaches and villa accommodations designed for large families. “I want them to experience what it feels like to be safe and loved without constant security protocols.”
“It sounds perfect.” Zita studies the property information for a moment longer. “When were you thinking?”
“Next month, if Dr. Kozlova clears them for travel.” I’ve already coordinated with medical personnel and security teams to ensure the trip meets every safety requirement.
Our three nannies and several bodyguards will come along, but we should be able to truly relax there.
“I think we can squeeze in two weeks of complete privacy where they can experience normal childhood activities.”
“Normal childhood activities.” Zita repeats the phrase like she’s testing how it sounds.
“Swimming, playing in sand, and sleeping under stars without worrying about surveillance equipment.” She still looks faintly skeptical, like she wants to remind me our infants are barely six months old, but she refrains.
“I just want them to have everything we never had growing up.” I lean against the doorframe, watching our children sleep peacefully. “All the things we swore they would have.”
The promise we’re keeping to our children extends beyond just physical safety and material comfort. We’ve committed to giving them a childhood that creates people capable of building rather than destroying and choosing rather than simply following orders.
“How has the Bratva transition been progressing?” Zita asks about the organizational changes I’ve been implementing since the Federoff war ended.
“Better than expected. The real estate operations are generating steady revenue without requiring enforcement actions. The political consulting firm is landing contracts based on expertise rather than intimidation.”
“What about the traditional operations?” Zita’s question gets to the heart of how completely we’ve moved away from Nicky’s methods.
“They’re scaled back significantly.” I’m honest about the realities of transforming a criminal organization. “We still provide security services for clients who need discretion, but we’ve eliminated the drug trade entirely and reduced protection rackets to voluntary business arrangements.”
“Voluntary business arrangements.” Zita’s tone carries approval and amusement. “Nicky would be spinning in his grave.”
“Nicky can spin straight to Hell for all I care.” Despite the words, my tone is mild.
I’m not at peace with his actions or what he did to my mother, but I have found the ability to move past it.
When the children came, all the old hurts seemed less important as I lost myself in raising them with the day-to-day triumphs and challenges.
She smiles with understanding and just touches my arm. We stand in silence for a long minute, admiring our children.
As we stand together watching our children sleep, I understand everything that brought us to this moment, including the arranged marriage, the Federoff war, and months of learning to trust each other were necessary to create the love that now defines our lives.
What began as duty has become devotion. What started as obligation has become a partnership that transforms everything it touches. Our children will inherit not just wealth and influence, but the understanding that real strength comes from protecting who and what you love.
“I love you.” I put my arm around her. “You and they are my entire world.”
“I love you too.” She leans into my embrace. “I couldn’t love any of you more if I tried.”
The cycle of violence ends with us. The legacy of love begins with them.