Chapter 22
Tigran
For the first time in weeks, I wake up without the immediate tension that’s been my constant companion.
Zita sleeps beside me, her dark hair spread across the pillow and her face peaceful in a way I’ve rarely seen since we’ve been married.
The events of last night replay in my mind, and not just the physical connection we shared, but the emotional breakthrough that changed everything between us.
She loves me.
The knowledge sits in my chest like a balloon about to pop.
It’s a vulnerability I’ve never allowed myself to experience.
In the world I grew up in, love is a weapon your enemies use against you.
Nicky taught me that lesson when he put a bullet in my mother’s chest and showed me caring about someone gives them the power to destroy you completely.
I’ve spent more than two decades building walls around my heart, convincing myself duty and control and strategic thinking were enough to build a life.
Zita has torn down every one of those walls in the space of a few months, and instead of feeling exposed and weak, I feel stronger than I’ve ever been.
She’s no longer the sharp-tongued liability I married out of obligation to a contract signed by two now-dead men.
She’s not the problem I need to solve or the asset I need to protect.
She’s become the center of everything that matters to me and the reason I want to reshape the Bratva into something worthy of the future we might build together.
Zita stirs in her sleep, making a soft sound that draws my attention back to her face. There are faint bruises under her eyes from sleepless nights and stress, which are reminders of everything she’s endured because of her connection to me.
The guilt that surfaced when I tried to lock her away for her own protection after the Federoff attack threatens to return, but I push it down.
She forgave me for that mistake and trusted me enough to rebuild what I’d damaged with my need to control her safety.
I just need to learn from it, not dwell on it.
“You’re staring at me.” Her voice is husky with sleep, and she doesn’t open her eyes when she speaks.
“How do you know?”
“I can feel it.” She turns onto her side to face me, and when she finally opens her eyes, they’re clearer than they’ve been in days. “You’re thinking too hard about something. I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head.”
“I’m thinking about how different everything looks this morning.” I reach out to trace the curve of her cheek with my fingertip, still amazed that she doesn’t flinch away from my touch anymore. “How you’ve changed everything I thought I understood about myself.”
“Which parts?” There’s a hint of curiosity in her voice, like she’s trying to figure out what shift she’s sensing in me.
“All of it.” I lean down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “The way I see you, us, and how I want to build with the power I inherited from my father.”
Zita goes very still, and I can see her processing my words. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re not a duty I have to fulfill anymore.” The admission comes out roughly. “You’re not a political alliance or a strategic advantage or a problem I need to solve. You’re the woman I love, and that changes everything about how I want to live.”
“How does it change things?”
“It makes me want to be worthy of what you’ve given me.” I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer. “It makes me want to build something with the Bratva that our children could inherit with pride instead of shame.”
She reaches up to touch my face, her palm warm against my cheek. “You don’t have to earn my love, Tigran. It’s not something you achieve through good behavior or planning. It just exists.”
The simplicity of her statement hits me harder than any complex negotiation or business deal ever has.
In my world, everything has a price, and everything requires payment or leverage or careful calculation.
The idea that Zita could love me without expecting anything in return feels almost impossible to comprehend.
“I’ve been watching you.” The confession slips out before I can stop it.
“Watching me how?”
“The way you take your coffee, the books you prefer to read, and how you move when you think no one is paying attention.” I trace the line of her jaw with my thumb. “I started noticing these things weeks ago, before I was ready to admit what they meant.”
“What did they mean?”
“That somewhere between hating you, fighting with you, and trying to keep you safe, I started seeing you as a person instead of an obligation.” I kiss her forehead, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
“That I started wanting to do small things to make you happy without any business purpose behind them.”
“Like bringing me coffee the way I like it?”
“Yes.” I can’t help but smile at how she’s picked up on something I didn’t even realize I was doing consciously. “Or making sure you have books to read during our confinement here or positioning myself between you and any potential threats without even thinking about it.”
“Those things matter more than you probably realize.” Zita’s voice is soft with emotion. “They were the first signs that you saw me as someone worth caring about instead of just someone you had to live with.”
We lie in comfortable silence for a while, and I catalog the details of this moment. These are the kinds of memories I want to collect instead of the ones that have filled my life until now.
“Can I tell you something?” Zita’s voice breaks the quiet.
“Anything.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me about your mother, about how she died trying to get your father to choose differently.” She shifts so she can see my face better. “It made me think about my own mother, and why she really left.”
This is new territory. Zita has mentioned her mother’s abandonment before, but never with the openness she’s showing now.
“What about her?”
“I used to think she left because she didn’t love me enough to stay.” Zita’s voice is carefully controlled, like she’s trying not to let old pain bleed through.
I can see the effort it’s taking for her to share this, and I stay quiet, letting her work through whatever she needs to say.
“I remember the arguments between her and my father.” Her gaze focuses on something distant, like she’s looking back through time.
“She’d beg him to get out of business with your family, to take us somewhere safe where we could start over.
She said she didn’t want me growing up around violence and corruption or thinking that was normal. ”
“What would Claude say?”
“That he was protecting us by staying close to powerful people. The money and connections were what kept us safe, and walking away would make us vulnerable to anyone who wanted to hurt him.” Zita’s voice carries old frustration.
“She’d tell him the money wasn’t worth our souls, and he’d tell her she was na?ve about how the world really worked. ”
“When did she leave?”
“The night after a particularly bad fight. I was six, and I woke up to hear them screaming at each other downstairs.” Zita’s hands clench slightly in the sheets. “She was crying, telling him she couldn’t watch him become someone she didn’t recognize.”
“What did he say?”
“That if she left, she’d never see me again. He’d make sure of it.” The words come out flat and bitter. “And he did. She disappeared that night, and I never heard from her again. There were no letters or phone calls, and she made no attempts to contact me even when I became an adult.”
The pain in her voice makes me clench my hands. “She abandoned you to save herself.”
“Yes.” Zita’s response is immediate and firm. “I do, but I also think there was no way Papa would have let her take me. She had to choose between staying and accepting what he was doing or leaving and not being part of it.”
I frown. “You think she was right to leave.”
“No. I think she was trying to save herself the only way she knew how, and maybe, she was trying save Papa too.” Zita looks directly at me. “I think she hoped that if she couldn’t convince him, maybe her leaving would be dramatic enough to wake him up and make him choose differently for my sake.”
“Of course, it didn’t work.”
“No, it didn’t work. If anything, it made him hold tighter to his alliance with your family because he was terrified of losing the only protection he thought he had left.
” Zita’s voice carries old sadness. “I grew up hating her for abandoning me. It’s only recently that I sort of understand why she did what she did.
” Zita traces patterns on my chest with her fingertip.
“The question is whether we’re going to repeat old patterns or break them.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean are you going to be like your father, who killed the woman he claimed to love because she threatened his control?” Zita’s voice is steady and direct. “Or are you going to be different? Are you going to choose love over power when the two come into conflict?”
The question cuts straight to the heart of everything I’ve been struggling with since Nicky died. “I want to be different.”
“Wanting isn’t enough.” She sits up slightly. “Your father probably wanted to be different too, in the beginning. The choice comes when someone you love asks you to give up something that feels essential to who you are.”
I hesitate, wary. “What would you ask me to give up?”
“I’d ask you to give up the idea that you have to rule through fear the way he did.”
“You make it sound possible.” I hesitate. “With you, everything feels possible.” I pull her closer, amazed by how much my world has changed in the space of a single night. “With you, I can imagine being the kind of man my mother wanted me to become instead of the weapon my father trained me to be.”
“What about the Bratva? What about your responsibilities?”
“I’ll fulfill my responsibilities, but I’ll do it differently than Nicky did.” The conviction in my voice surprises me. “I’ll build something that protects people instead of destroying them. I’ll use the power I inherited to create stability instead of chaos.”
“That’s a beautiful dream.” Zita’s voice carries both hope and caution. “Dreams don’t survive contact with reality unless you’re willing to fight for them.”
“Then I’ll fight.” I look directly into her eyes, needing her to see how serious I am. “I’ll fight to become the man you deserve, the father our children deserve, and a good leader who rules with respect over kneejerk violence.”
She smiles softly. “I hope you can.” After a hesitation, she says, “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me when the choice comes—and it will come—you won’t let the Bratva turn you into your father, no matter what it costs.”
What she’s asking settles over me. She’s asking me to promise that I’ll never become Nicky and never let the violence of my world destroy what we’re building together. “I promise.” The words come out steady and sure. “I promise I’ll choose you and our future over everything else.”
“Even if it means giving up power or walking away from everything you inherited?”
“Yes.” I lean down to kiss her, pouring all my conviction into the contact. “Power without love is just another form of death, and I want to live. With you, I want to really live.”
For the first time since my mother died, I imagine a future that’s about more than just survival. I can see myself as a husband who protects through love instead of fear, as a father who guides through wisdom instead of intimidation, as a leader who builds instead of destroys.
Zita has given me hope that the cycle of violence can be broken, love can be stronger than fear, and I can be different from the man who shaped me.
“What are you thinking about now?” Zita’s voice pulls me back to the present.
“I’m thinking about the future we’re going to build.
” I tighten my arms around her. “About the children we’ll raise who will never know what it feels like to be afraid of their father.
About the kind of love story we’ll have that ends with both of us alive and together instead of one of us dead because we dared to challenge the other. ”
“That sounds like the kind of future worth fighting for.”
“It’s the only future worth fighting for.” I kiss the top of her head. “Everything else is just existing.”
As we lie together in the quiet morning light, I realize that loving Zita hasn’t made me weak. It’s made me stronger than I’ve ever been, giving me something worth protecting that’s bigger than myself or my empire or my father’s legacy.
For the first time in my life, I really understand what my mother was trying to save me from.
Not just Nicky’s violence, but his emptiness and inability to love anything more than he loved power.
I won’t make his mistakes. I won’t let the Bratva destroy what Zita and I are building.
I’ll find a way to honor my responsibilities while protecting what matters most.
That’s the legacy I want to leave. Not an empire built on blood and fear, but a family built on love, trust, and strength no matter what the world throws at us.