Chapter 18 #2
I meet her gaze directly. “I’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes to give our daughter a normal life, I’ll make it happen.”
“Even if it means giving up everything you’ve built?” she asks softly.
“What I’ve built isn’t worth preserving if it puts her in danger.”
She reaches over and takes my hand, sounding like she’s near tears when she speaks again. “Our daughter is lucky to have you.”
The simple statement means more than any declaration of love could. She’s not saying she cares about me or that she wants a future together. She’s saying I’ll be a good father, which somehow matters more than any romantic sentiment at the moment.
I squeeze her hand gently. “I hope so.”
“I know so. I’ve seen how you take care of people you care about, like the way you protected me, and the way you’ve made sure Jessie is safe even though you barely know her. Our daughter will never doubt she’s loved.”
I want to tell her I love her too, moved to blurt it out, but I hold back.
Sabrina doesn’t seem ready to hear such words from me, and I’m not sure I want to utter them.
I can’t deny I’m in love with her, at least as much as I can love anyone, but how do I show that or prove that?
It’s better to maintain my silence for the moment until I figure out those details.
That night, after we’ve returned to the estate and Sabrina has gone to bed early with a stack of pregnancy books, I sit in my study and call Maksim.
“How did the appointment go?” he asks after answering.
“It’s a girl.” I’m beaming as I say that.
I can hear the smile in his voice. “Congratulations. I assume everything else was normal?”
“Perfect. The baby’s healthy, Sabrina’s healthy, and everything is progressing exactly as it should.”
“Good. That’s a relief.” His tone shifts slightly. “You sound different though.”
I lean back in my chair, staring out at the gardens where security lights illuminate the grounds in carefully planned patterns. “I’ve been thinking about making some changes.”
“What kind of changes?” His voice is cautious now.
“Stepping back from active operations and delegating more responsibility. Eventually, I’ll be transitioning to purely legitimate business ventures.” The silence on the other end of the line stretches long enough that I wonder if the call has dropped. “Maksim?”
“I’m here. Just processing what you’re telling me.” His voice is carefully neutral. “You’re talking about retirement.”
“Not right away, but yes, eventually.”
He lets out a long breath. “Because of the baby?”
“Because of my family.” The word feels foreign on my tongue, but also right in ways I hadn’t expected. “I can’t raise a daughter in this world, Maksim. I won’t have her grow up thinking violence is normal, and fear is just part of life.”
“And you think you can just walk away after everything you’ve built, leaving behind everyone who depends on you?
” The questions echo Sabrina’s concerns but coming from Maksim they carry additional weight because he understands in a way she can’t.
He knows better than anyone how dangerous it can be to show weakness in our world, and how quickly allies can become enemies when they sense vulnerability.
I rub my temples. “I’ll transition slowly. Put safeguards in place and make sure everyone who works for me is taken care of.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about, and you know it.” His voice carries years of shared experience.
He’s right. The real danger won’t come from my own people, but from enemies who see my withdrawal as an opportunity to strike and from rivals who view my desire for a peaceful life as proof that I’ve gone soft. “I’ll handle the security concerns as they arise.”
Maksim makes a sound of frustration. “By hiding in some suburban fortress for the rest of your life?”
“By being smart about how I extract myself from situations that could put my family at risk.”
He sighs, and I can picture him rubbing his temples the way he does when he’s trying to solve an impossible problem. “What do you need from me?”
“Time to figure this out, support while I transition, and your word that you’ll help me keep them safe no matter what happens.”
“You have all of that. You’ve always had all of that.” His voice softens with something like affection.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until we see if this is actually possible.”
After we hang up, I sit alone in the darkness and think about the ultrasound photos tucked away in my desk drawer. They’re proof of my daughter’s existence, her perfect innocence, and her complete lack of awareness that her existence has already changed everything about my priorities.
I don’t know if it’s possible to build the kind of life I want for her, or if I can successfully transition from the man I’ve been to the man I need to become, but I have to try. The alternative of raising her in a world where violence is always just beneath the surface is unacceptable.
She deserves better than that. They both deserve a normal, safe, and happy life.
I’ll do whatever it takes to give it to them.