Chapter 45 Sophia
SOPHIA
I watch Mikhail from my prison of pillows and blankets, my hand resting protectively over the small swell of my stomach.
He stands at the window of our bedroom, his phone pressed to his ear, his shoulders rigid with tension.
This is the fourth call in the last hour, and each one seems to add another layer of stress to the weight he’s already carrying.
“I don’t care what it takes,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “Handle it.”
He ends the call and runs a hand through his blonde hair, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as his tell when he’s overwhelmed.
For a moment, he just stands there, staring out at the compound grounds, and I see the exhaustion etched into every line of his body.
“Mikhail,” I say softly.
He turns, and the mask slips back into place. His green eyes soften when they land on me, and he crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine.” I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his. “But you’re not.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I squeeze his hand. “Don’t. I can see it. You’re trying to be here for me while your entire organization is falling apart, and it’s tearing you in two.”
His jaw clenches, and he looks away. “I made you a promise. I said I was choosing family over the empire.”
“I know what you said.” I shift carefully, mindful of the doctor’s orders about bed rest. “But I’m starting to realize that it’s not that simple. Is it?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough with emotion. “No. It’s not.”
My heart aches at the admission. I’ve been so focused on my own fears, on protecting our baby from the violence of his world, that I haven’t fully understood the impossible position I’ve put him in.
He can’t just walk away. What he’s been saying all along, I’m finally realizing.
Too many people depend on him. Too many lives are tied to the decisions he makes.
“Tell me what’s happening,” I say. “Really tell me. Don’t try to protect me from it.”
He looks at me, searching my face for something.
Permission, maybe.
Or understanding.
“The Volkovs hit three of our warehouses yesterday. They’re testing us, seeing if my going legitimate means we’re weak. I’ve had to rebuild some of the old business, and some of my own men are questioning whether I’m still fit to lead if I’m spending all my time here instead of handling business.”
The words settle over me like a weight.
This is my fault.
My complications, my demands that he go fully legitimate and choose between me and his responsibilities, have created a power vacuum that his enemies are rushing to fill.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“No.” He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “A pakhan who shows weakness gets replaced. Or killed. And everyone who depends on him suffers the consequences.”
I think about all the families connected to his organization.
The men who work for him, their wives and children.
The legitimate businesses that employ hundreds of people.
The delicate balance of power that keeps the city from descending into all-out war between the families.
It’s not just about us. It’s never been just about us.
“I’ve been selfish,” I say, the realization hitting me with the force of a physical blow. “I’ve been so focused on what I want, on the life I think we should have, that I haven’t considered what walking away would actually mean.”
“You’re not selfish.” His voice is fierce. “You’re trying to protect our child. That’s not selfish, Sophia. That’s being a good mother.”
“But I’m not being a good wife.” Tears burn my eyes, and I blink them back. “I’ve been giving you ultimatums, threatening to leave, making you choose between impossible options. And all I’ve done is make everything worse.”
He cups my face in his hands, his green eyes intense. “You haven’t made anything worse. You’ve made me see what really matters. You’ve made me want to be better.”
“But wanting to be better and actually being able to change are two different things.” I lean into his touch, drawing strength from his warmth. “Your world doesn’t allow for half measures. I’m starting to understand that now.”
His phone buzzes again, and I see the conflict flash across his face. Answer it and prove that business will always come first or ignore it and let whatever crisis is brewing get worse.
“Answer it,” I tell him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief and gratitude war in his expression as he pulls out his phone. “It’s Tony.”
I nod, and he stands, moving back to the window.
I watch him as he talks, noting the way his posture shifts, becoming more commanding, more authoritative.
This is the pakhan, the man who built an empire through intelligence and ruthlessness. This is who he really is, and I’ve been asking him to suppress that part of himself.
The conversation is brief, but I can tell from Mikhail’s expression that it’s not good news.
When he ends the call, he stands there for a moment, his back to me, his shoulders tense.
“What is it?” I ask.
He turns, and I see the worry in his eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry about it.”
“Mikhail.” I use the tone that tells him I’m not accepting that answer. “We just agreed. No more protecting me from the truth.”
He sighs and returns to the bed, sitting close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “Two of my lieutenants are pushing back against Tony’s authority. They don’t think he’s earned the position of enforcer, and they’re using my absence to undermine him.”
“What happens if they succeed?”
“Then the organization fractures. Different factions form, each one trying to grab power. And in the chaos, our enemies move in.” He meets my gaze. “It could mean war, Sophia. Real war, with bodies in the streets and innocent people caught in the crossfire.”
The image makes my stomach turn. This is what I’ve been trying to avoid, the violence I don’t want our child exposed to. But I’m beginning to realize that my attempts to escape it have only made it more likely to happen.
“You need to go,” I say quietly. “You need to handle this before it gets worse.”
“I’m not leaving you.” His voice is firm. “The doctor said complete bed rest. No stress. If I leave now, you’ll worry, and that’s not good for you or the baby.”
“I’ll worry more if your organization falls apart because you’re here holding my hand.
” I squeeze his fingers. “I’m not asking you to choose, Mikhail.
I’m telling you to do what needs to be done.
I’ll be fine. Elena is here, and the doctor is on call.
Go take care of your business. Just…come back to me. Before I fall asleep this time.”
He searches my face, looking for signs that I’m just saying what he wants to hear.
But I mean it.
I’m tired of being the reason he can’t do what he needs to do.
Tired of my fear making everything worse.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure.” I pull him down for a kiss, pouring all my love and understanding into it. “Go be the pakhan. Show them why they should fear you. And then come home to me.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I feel the gratitude and relief in the way his lips move against mine.
When he pulls back, there’s a new determination in his eyes.
“I love you,” he says. “Both of you.”
“I love you too.” I touch his face, memorizing the feel of his stubble against my palm. “Now go. Before I change my mind.” The smile I give him softens the words, showing him I’m teasing about changing my mind.
He stands, already opening his contacts to make calls. I watch him transform before my eyes, the worried husband becoming the commanding leader.
This is who he needs to be, and I need to find a way to accept that.
After he leaves, the room feels emptier, quieter. I lie back against the pillows, my hand on my stomach, feeling the flutter of movement that tells me our baby is awake.
“Your father is complicated,” I whisper to the tiny life inside me. “But he’s trying. We both are.”
I must doze off because I wake to the sound of voices in the hallway. Male voices, low and urgent. I glance at the clock. It’s been two hours since Mikhail left. He must be back.
But as I listen more carefully, I realize it’s not Mikhail’s voice. It’s two of his men, and they’re standing just outside our bedroom door.
“This is our chance,” one of them says. “While he’s distracted with his pregnant wife, we make our move. Convince the others that he’s too weak to lead.”
“And if he finds out?” The second voice is hesitant.
“He won’t. Not until it’s too late. By the time he realizes what’s happening, we’ll have enough support to force him out. Then we can run things the way they should be run, without all this legitimate business bullshit.”
My blood runs cold.
These are Mikhail’s own men, people he trusts, and they’re planning to betray him.
Planning to use my pregnancy as the distraction they need to destroy everything he’s built.