Chapter 23 #2
“Higher-order multiple pregnancies carry increased risks of complications, including premature labor, low birth weight, gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, and potential developmental issues.” Her explanation is clinical but compassionate.
“However, with proper prenatal care and monitoring, many women successfully carry and deliver healthy multiples.”
“Premature labor.” I latch onto the phrase. “How premature?”
“Most sextuplets are born between twenty-eight and thirty-two weeks, compared to the normal forty weeks for a single baby.” She continues with details about NICU care and long-term outcomes while I try to process the magnitude of what we’re facing.
“The babies would likely need to spend several weeks or months in the neonatal intensive care unit.”
Twenty-eight weeks. That means six babies born months before they’re ready, fighting for their lives in incubators while their parents fight to keep enemies from reaching them.
We’ll have six children who might spend the first months of their lives in a hospital, vulnerable and exposed despite whatever security measures Tigran can arrange.
“I need some air.” I slide off the examination table, ignoring the dizziness that threatens to return. “I need to think about this.”
“Mrs. Belsky—” Dr. Kozlova starts, but Tigran raises a hand to stop her.
“Give us a few minutes.” His voice is calm, but I see the tension in his shoulders and the careful control he’s exercising to keep from falling apart himself.
We step outside the clinic into an alley where Tigran’s men have established a secure perimeter. The cool January air helps clear my head slightly, but it doesn’t touch the panic that’s building in my chest like a living thing trying to claw its way out.
“I can’t do this, Tigran.” I lean against the brick wall, trying to steady myself. “Six babies who will be born early and fragile and completely dependent on us to keep them alive in a world that wants to destroy everything you’ve built. We can’t do this to them.”
“I know.” He moves closer, and I can see genuine fear in his expression: “I know it seems impossible.”
“Seems impossible?” I can’t keep the bitter laugh from escaping. “It is impossible. How do we protect six children when we can barely protect ourselves? How do we give them anything resembling normal lives when normal doesn’t exist in your world?”
Tigran is quiet for a long moment. “We make it possible. We find a way to give them everything they need, even if it means changing everything about how the Bratva operates.”
I shake my head. “You can’t restructure an entire criminal organization because we’re having babies.” The obvious solution is an abortion, but as I open my mouth to suggest it, though it makes my chest tight, he speaks first.
“I can change anything I want.” The certainty in his voice stops my protests and ends the idea of terminating immediately.
I never wanted to anyway, but it was the logical, emotionless answer.
“I inherited an empire, which means I have the power to reshape it into something worthy of our children that will be safe enough for them.”
I still don’t think it’s possible. “What if other families don’t accept those changes? What if they see your evolution as weakness and try to exploit it?”
“I’ll destroy them before they can threaten what matters most to me.” Tigran steps closer with deadly seriousness in his expression. “I’ll eliminate every threat, neutralize every enemy, and build walls around our family that no one can breach.”
“I’m afraid of that too.” I press my hands against my stomach, where six children are growing despite the chaos surrounding us.
“I’m afraid you’ll become so focused on protecting them that you’ll turn into your father.
You’ll choose violence and control over everything else, until you’re no longer the man I fell in love with. ”
The accusation makes him stiffen, and he pales as he considers what I’m saying. “You think having children will make me become Nicky.”
“I think having six children who are constantly under threat will test every promise you’ve made about being different.” I look directly at him. “I think when someone threatens our babies, you’ll forget about choosing love over power and do whatever it takes to eliminate the threat.”
“You’re probably right.” His honesty surprises me. “When someone threatens our children, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect them. I’ll kill anyone who poses a danger to them without hesitation or remorse.”
“That’s how it starts.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “That’s how good men become monsters, with just one justified act of violence at a time.”
Tigran is quiet for several minutes. I feel like I’m attacking him, since I would kill anyone who hurt our babies too, but he can do far more than I can, rending his soul into nothing with a thousand smaller acts that add up, until he’s cold and brutal like his father.
I wouldn’t hesitate to protect my children from a physical threat, but I don’t have it in me to plan ten steps ahead and kill someone who might pose a risk.
“What if we left?” The question comes out of nowhere, and he seems almost surprised as he suggests it.
I frown. “Left what?”
“Everything. What if we took the children and disappeared? We could start over somewhere far away from the Bratva, the Federoffs, and all of this violence.” Tigran’s voice carries a desperation I’ve never heard from him. “What if we chose our family over everything else?”
The idea is tempting in a way that scares me. “You’d walk away from everything? From your inheritance, your responsibilities, and your entire life?”
“For you and our children? Without hesitation.” He cups my face in his hands. “Nothing else matters compared to keeping you safe and giving our babies the chance to grow up without fear.”
“Your men would never let you just walk away. The other families would hunt us down to prevent any possibility of you returning to reclaim power so they can fill the vacuum.” I can see the flaws in the plan even as part of me wants to believe it could work.
“Running away doesn’t solve the fundamental problem. ”
“What fundamental problem?”
“That violence follows people like you whether we want it to or not.” I lean into his touch despite my fears. “Our children will carry the Belsky name no matter where we go, and there will always be someone who sees that as a threat or an opportunity.”
Tigran’s expression hardens with acceptance of a truth he doesn’t want to face. “Then we stay and fight. We build something so strong that no one dares to threaten it.”
“We stay and fight, and I pray the man I love doesn’t disappear in the process of protecting what we’ve created.” I press my forehead against his. “I hope when the choice comes between love and power, you’ll remember this moment and choose us.”
“I will always choose you.” His voice carries absolute conviction. “I will always choose our family over everything else.”
“Even when choosing us means letting enemies live who pose a potential future threat? Even when choosing love means accepting some level of risk that could endanger our children?”
The questions cut to the heart of what we’re really facing. Not just the practical challenges of raising six children in a dangerous world, but the moral compromises we’ll both have to make to keep them safe.
“I don’t know.” Tigran’s honesty is painful but necessary. “I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to choose love over revenge if someone hurts our children. I won’t be able to show mercy to people who pose a threat to our family.”
“I’m not asking you to show anyone who hurts our family mercy.
I just don’t want you to become like your father while trying to protect our family from being hurt.
” I take his hands in mine. “We make these decisions as partners, and we hold each other accountable when the darkness starts to take over.”
“I can try.” His painful honesty hurts both of us, but I’d rather hear the truth than comforting lies.
I place his hand on my stomach where our babies are growing. “It’s scary as hell, but we’re having six children who will break the cycle of violence and abandonment that defined both our childhoods.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because we’re not our parents.” I look directly into his gaze. “We’re choosing to stay and fight for each other instead of running away. Our children will have something neither of us had growing up.”
“What?”
I smile, though it feels a little wobbly since I’m still in shock at the idea of multiples and the changes that require.
“Our babies will have two parents who love each other and who will never abandon them, no matter how difficult things get.” I lean up to kiss him softly. “That has to count for something.”
When we go back inside the clinic, Dr. Kozlova is waiting with a folder full of information about specialized prenatal care and recommendations for managing a high-risk multiple pregnancy.
The conversation is clinical and practical, focused on appointment schedules and monitoring protocols that will dominate the next several months of our lives.
“You’ll need to see me weekly for the first trimester, then twice weekly as the pregnancy progresses,” she says while Tigran takes notes. “We’ll monitor for any signs of complications, and I’ll coordinate with specialists at Northwestern Memorial, who have experience with higher-order multiples.”
“What about security?” Tigran’s question interrupts her medical explanations. “How do we ensure Zita’s safety during appointments and potential hospitalization?”
“I’ve worked with your family for fifteen years.
” She speaks bluntly but neutrally. “I understand the unique challenges you face, and I’m willing to make arrangements for private appointments and enhanced security measures as needed.
You have the money to add an OB and NICU suite to your current home clinic. ”
He nods, not mentioning we’ve been hiding out in Door County. “Consider it done.”
The practical details feel overwhelming, but there’s something oddly comforting about planning for the future instead of just reacting to crisis after crisis.
We schedule the next appointment, receive a list of dietary restrictions and recommended supplements, and discuss signs that would require immediate medical attention.
As we prepare to leave, the doctor hands me a small envelope. “Those are ultrasound pictures of your babies.”
I open the envelope with trembling hands and look at the grainy black and white images that show six tiny forms, each no bigger than a grape, but each with a clearly visible heartbeat captured in the frozen moment of the ultrasound.
They’re already changing everything about who we are and why we’re fighting.
“They’re real.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“They’re real.” Tigran’s voice is soft with wonder as he looks over my shoulder at the images. “Six reasons to build a better world, even if we have to tear down the old one to make room for it.”
During the drive back to the safehouse, I study the ultrasound pictures while Tigran makes phone calls about enhanced security and medical preparations. The fear is still there, but it’s being slowly replaced by a fierce protectiveness that surprises me with its intensity.
These children will face challenges I can barely imagine, but they’ll also have advantages that Tigran and I never had.
They’ll grow up knowing they’re loved unconditionally.
They’ll have parents who will fight to stay together no matter what obstacles arise.
They’ll be raised with the understanding that strength comes from protecting others, not destroying them.
“What are you thinking about?” Tigran asks when he finishes his calls.
“I’m thinking about names.” I trace one of the ultrasound images with my fingertip. “About what we want to call them and what we want their lives to be like.”
“Any ideas?”
“I want them to have names that honor the people who loved us.” I look at him. “Your mother, my father, and the parts of our families that were worth preserving.”
“Anastasia for my mother.” Tigran’s voice is soft. “Claude for your father.”
I nod. “The rest will have strong names that serve them well no matter what paths they choose.” I lean against his shoulder.
“We have time to figure it out.” Tigran kisses the top of my head. “We have months to plan and prepare and make sure everything is ready for them.”
“Do we?” I can’t keep the worry from creeping back into my voice. “Do we really have months, or will the Federoffs force our hand before then?”
“We’ll end the threat from the Federoffs before these children are born.” Tigran’s voice carries deadly certainty. “Whatever it takes, they’ll grow up in a world where Avgar’s family can never hurt them.”
I want to argue that violence isn’t the answer, and there has to be another way to resolve the conflict without more bloodshed, but looking at these ultrasound pictures, feeling the weight of responsibility for six innocent lives growing inside me, I realize violence is the answer in this case.
Avgar Federoff has to be out of this world before our babies enter it.
“You’re right. Just promise me something.” I turn to look at him directly.
“Anything.”
“Promise me that when you go after the Federoffs, you’ll remember that our children need their father to come home.” I place my hand over his. “Promise me you won’t take unnecessary risks or let revenge override good judgment.”
“I promise.” Tigran brings my hand to his lips. “I’ll be smart instead of just brutal. I promise I’ll come home to you and our children.”
“Good.” I settle back against his chest, feeling more secure than I have since six heartbeats filled the room an hour ago. “Six babies are going to need a lot of help, and I can’t do this alone.”
“You’ll never be alone.” He tightens his arms around me.
As we drive through the Chicago streets toward our temporary sanctuary, I press my hand to my stomach and promise them their father and I will never abandon them the way my mother abandoned me, and we’ll never consider them a tool to mold, as Nicky did.
We’ll build something better from the ashes of everything that came before.
I still can’t quite believe we’re having sextuplets, but they are six reasons to fight harder, love deeper, and hope for a future that seemed impossible just this morning. We have to make it possible, no matter how we do that.