Chapter 64 Sima
SIMA
Lilia’s tiny fingers fuss at the bottle. She’s more interested in batting it away than actually drinking it.
Milk dribbles down her chin. I sigh, wipe it off with the corner of the burp cloth, and try again.
She makes a noise halfway between a hiccup and a laugh. I smile despite myself.
It’s been a week since Kira attacked us. A week since Luka dragged her off, and Petyr came back with thirteen stitches along his arm. He says he’s fine, but I know better. He always says that, even when he’s bleeding.
Lilia fusses and squirms in my arms. I shift her into a better position and cradle her closer. She finally latches, and her eyes flutter shut as she settles.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Ever since the shock of that night made me lose my milk, I’ve been terrified Lilia would refuse the bottle. But she’s been good about it, mostly. A little fussy, maybe, but I don’t care. Every second I spend with her feels like a privilege.
The nursery smells like formula now. I keep the lamps low, warm and soft. The shadows make everything feel smaller. Safer. Almost peaceful.
Almost.
Petyr hasn’t said much about that night. In fact, he’s been carefully avoiding bringing it up with me. But I know what happened. Everyone knows, even if no one says it out loud.
Kira’s dead.
I don’t know who did it. Whether Luka finished the job or Petyr handled it himself, or if it was really me with that clock. But the outcome’s the same. She’s gone. And I should feel something about that, shouldn’t I?
Guilt. Pity. Anything.
But I don’t.
All I feel is relief.
She’ll never come near me again. Never raise a hand to my child. With her gone, Petyr doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, waiting for the next betrayal.
It’s a terrible thing, realizing someone’s death makes you feel safe. But it’s the truth. With Kira gone, I can breathe easier.
Maybe that’s what happens when you live in a world like this one. You stop pretending everything has to be moral to be right.
Lilia makes a soft sound in her sleep. Her little fist opens, closes again. I brush my thumb across her cheek, the perfect curve of it. Her irises are starting to darken. She’s going to have Petyr’s eyes. Same gold-brown, same quiet fire.
I don’t know what scares me more: that she’ll grow up to be like him, or that she won’t.
The door creaks. I look up, already knowing who it is before I see him.
Petyr stands in the doorway. He looks tired but steady, as if the rage that used to live under his skin has finally burned itself out.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask quietly.
“No.” He shakes his head. “You?”
“Same.” I glance down at Lilia, who’s finally drifting off. “She kept fussing.”
Petyr crosses the room and stops beside me. He doesn’t touch me, but the warmth of him reaches anyway. He looks down at the baby, something unreadable in his eyes. His hand hovers near her for a second, then settles gently against her back.
Now that there’s finally nothing left unsaid between us, the silence has grown comfortable again. Cozy, even.
“She’s the spitting image of you,” he murmurs.
I laugh softly. “She has your eyes. Soon, anyway.”
“The shape is all yours.”
“Then I guess we’ll call it even.”
We fall quiet again. Only the hum of the monitor fills the room. For a moment, it feels like peace might actually exist here, fragile and fleeting though it is.
I shift Lilia higher on my shoulder, pat her back. She lets out a tiny burp that makes both of us snort under our breath.
“I wanted to tell you something,” he says eventually. “About Dimitri.”
I straighten. “What about him?”
“I’ve been talking with a new medical team,” Petyr explains. “Neurologists, physical therapists, people who specialize in long-term rehabilitation. They’re good. Better than what the hospital’s been giving him.”
That catches my attention. “You think they can help him?”
“I do,” he says. “But they’ll need to move him here.”
I blink. “Here? Into the house?”
He nods. “It’s the safest option. They’ll have everything they need set up downstairs. Constant supervision, full access to his care. He’ll never be left alone again.”
For a moment, I don’t say anything. I picture Dimitri, the way Petyr told me he used to be: smiling, quick with his sarcasm, alive in ways his younger brother rarely let himself be.
Then I picture him as he is now. Still, fragile, living proof of how cruel this world can be.
And then I think of Kira.
After everything that came out, it’s hard not to. The way she’d been lying to everyone. How she’d kept telling us he was too sick to improve. Turns out, she hadn’t even visited him in months.
She could’ve walked into that hospital room any day and finished the job she started.
My throat tightens. “He’s been so vulnerable all this time,” I whisper. “If she’d gone back there—”
“She didn’t,” Petyr says. His tone softens. “We were lucky.”
Lucky. That word doesn’t sit right with me. Not when Kira’s betrayal could’ve destroyed what little family we have left. Dimitri may not be my brother, but he’s Petyr’s. That means he’s family to me, too.
But Petyr is right. It’s the truth. We were lucky. And we can’t risk relying on luck again.
I glance at Lilia in my arms. Her breathing stays soft and steady. “If moving him here keeps him safe,” I say finally, “then it’s the right call.”
Petyr exhales slowly, like he’d been waiting for me to say it. “I’ll have the rooms cleared out tomorrow. The doctors will start bringing in equipment by the end of the week.”
I nod. “Good. He deserves better than what Kira gave him.”
“She fooled all of us,” Petyr says. “But she won’t get another chance.”
Silence stretches between us again. Not the uneasy kind that used to linger after our fights. This one’s quieter, the kind that comes when two people understand something without needing to say it.
Finally, I glance back at him. A smile tugs at my lips. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
He meets my eyes. “He’s my brother,” he says. “I should’ve done it sooner.”
I don’t argue. I just nod and reach over to brush a lock of hair from Lilia’s forehead.
I rock her in my arms until she gives a sleepy sigh. The sound is soft enough to melt me. She’s already drifting off, and her lashes flutter as she nestles closer.
I press a kiss to her head, breathe in that powdery baby scent, and carefully lower her into the crib.
Petyr reaches inside and strokes her hair. His touch is so gentle with her, it’s unreal. Every time I see them together like this, warmth spreads into me, thick and gooey.
Her dad loves her. He will protect her in ways mine didn’t with me.
He will keep her safe.
I notice Petyr’s been quiet for a long time. “Everything okay?” I ask.
He nods. “Better than okay.”
His voice is low, uncertain. Like he’s unsure how to bring up a subject. But then he says, “I found her.”
I blink, unsure I heard right. “You…?”
“Your sister. I found her.”
My breath catches. “Lara?”
“Yes.” He nods again. “She’s alive.”
For a second, I forget how to breathe. My mind struggles to catch up, to believe him. All those years of not knowing, of wondering if she was still out there somewhere, or gone like the rest of them.
It feels impossible that she’s real again. Alive.
I twist in his arms, face him fully. “Where is she?”
“Still with Volkov,” Petyr warns. “But not for long.” His eyes darken. “I have someone on the inside. If she wants to be freed from her marriage, they’ll give her an out. She’ll be safe.”
He doesn’t say how, but he doesn’t have to. I know what his words mean.
Freeing her from that marriage is code. The kind that leaves no witnesses. He’s giving her that choice. Her, and me.
And honestly? I don’t care if it’s wrong to want it.
Timur Volkov was always cruel. He married my sister like he was buying cattle. A man twice her age, and yet shameless in his greed.
If Petyr’s people end him, it’s no more than he deserves.
“She’s really alive,” I whisper again, almost afraid the words will shatter if I say them too loud.
“She is,” Petyr says. “And if she wants to come home, she will.”
I press my hands to my mouth, fight the sob that threatens to break out. All the air rushes out of me at once.
I’ve dreamed of this moment so many times. Waking up to a world where Lara wasn’t just a ghost from a past I couldn’t bury. A world where she could be herself again. Alive again.
But I never thought I’d live to see it.
“Petyr,” I choke, “you… you did this?”
“Of course.” He tilts his head. “You asked me to.”
My heart aches in the best way. I reach for him, my fingers on his jaw, the edge of his beard. My gaze snatches on the long scar across his arm. The one I thought I might lose him to.
He’s here. Whole. Mine.
And now. he’s giving me back the one thing I thought I’d lost forever.
“I don’t even know what to say,” I whisper.
“Then don’t.” He pulls me close again. “You don’t have to say anything.”
But I do. Because this man—this impossible, complicated, infuriating man—has given me everything I ever wanted. A home. A family. And now, the hope that my sister might finally be free.
My heart feels too full.
So I rise onto my toes, press my lips to his cheek, and rest my forehead against his. “I love you,” I say softly. “So much. You know that, right?”
His hand tightens at my waist. “I do.”
And for once, I feel completely safe.
Maybe it won’t last forever. Peace never does in our world.
But tonight, I let myself believe in it anyway.