Chapter 28
Iskander
S eventeen weeks later, the Charleston spring air drifts through my office windows, carrying the scent of magnolia blossoms and new beginnings.
I sign the final page of documents that formally transfer control of the Taranov Syndicate to Timur, my handwriting sealing the end of an era that defined most of my adult life.
“That’s it.” I set down the pen and lean back in my chair, studying the neat stack of papers that represent decades of power and influence. “You’re officially in charge of everything I built.”
He collects the documents with a sweep of his arms. His expression carries satisfaction and perhaps a bit of anxiety about his new responsibility, clearly understanding he’s inheriting both opportunities and obligations.
He chuckles. “It’s strange to think this morning you were a crime boss, and now you’re just another honest businessman.
” He slides the papers into a leather portfolio designed to protect them during transport to our lawyers.
“What are you planning to do with all that legitimacy?”
I laugh and move to the window overlooking gardens where security teams once maintained constant vigilance.
The grounds look peaceful now, with gardeners tending flowerbeds instead of soldiers patrolling perimeters.
These weeks without external threats has transformed this estate from fortress to family home, though we do maintain a small staff of security, as would anyone with wealth.
They just aren’t so obvious, and the likelihood of us ever needing them has dropped significantly.
“Willa and I have been talking about relocating somewhere quieter once the babies arrive.” I watch a pair of cardinals build their nest in the old oak tree that’s witnessed decades of my family’s history. “We’ve been looking at properties online but haven’t found anything that speaks to us yet.”
“Online house hunting.” Timur’s tone carries amused disbelief. “From the man who once insisted on personally inspecting every safe house before approving its use.”
I nod, conceding the point. “Willa’s scheduled C-section is in four days, so we can’t travel right now.
” I turn back to face him, trying not to reveal my lingering worry about that.
“We’ve done a couple of Zoom walk-throughs with real estate agents, which feels surreal after years of viewing properties through security assessments. ”
The transition from criminal enterprise to legitimate business has been smoother than either of us anticipated.
Wellington’s partnership provided enough clean revenue to support our operations while we systematically extricated ourselves from illegal activities.
Money laundering gave way to investment consulting, territorial protection became private security, and violence transformed into negotiation.
What couldn’t be converted remains firmly and fully under Timur’s control now with this morning’s signatures.
“Is any particular region calling to you, or are you just looking for maximum distance from Charleston?”
“Willa wants something with space for the children to grow up safely.” I return to my desk and review the property listings we’ve bookmarked over recent weeks.
“We’re thinking the ocean or an island, maybe.
We want somewhere we can build something new without shadows from the past affecting our future, so yes… Far away from Charleston is the plan.”
“That sounds nice .” He makes nice sound as pleasant as he can, but it’s clear he finds the concept baffling.
“She also wants to let the babies enjoy the nursery we renovated with such care before we think seriously about moving.” I touch one of the ultrasound photos showing seven distinct forms positioned for their imminent arrival.
“We put months of planning into that room, and she’d like them to experience it before we start over somewhere else.
” I look up to meet his gaze. “I also think it’s a way of reclaiming it from the taint of Alina, who was heavily involved with the first stage of renovating. ”
He grimaces at the mention of the woman and curses her softly.
She’s currently in Moscow, indentured to an old bratva acquaintance of mine for ten years to work off her sentence for betraying us.
We handle our own justice in this world, dispensing consequences that courts would never understand.
I wanted something quick and permanent, but Willa had asked me to let her live.
I’d thought it was from sympathy until she’d stared coldly at Alina and said, “She deserves to have years to contemplate what a mistake she made.”
Timur nods with understanding that goes beyond simple friendship into brotherhood forged through shared danger and mutual trust. “Willa deserves that chance.” He changes the subject a moment later.
“The Miami and Atlanta crews are adapting well to the transition. Discovering legitimate security work pays better than territorial disputes without the risk of incarceration has significantly improved morale.” He flashes a smile.
I settle back in my chair, processing the reality that hundreds of people who once followed my orders are now building legal careers under Timur’s leadership. The transformation represents redemption on a scale I never imagined possible when I first decided to leave this world behind.
“Any regrets about walking away?” His question carries genuine curiosity rather than judgment, though I understand why he might wonder about my emotional state after surrendering everything I built.
“Sometimes.” The admission emerges with honesty I don’t bother to hide from a man who’s like my brother. “It’s mostly nostalgia for the clarity of absolute power and problems that could be solved through superior violence. Then I think about Willa and our children, and the choice becomes obvious.”
The bittersweet nature of this transition touches every aspect of my daily routine.
I miss the adrenaline of tactical planning and the satisfaction of outmaneuvering rivals, but I’ve gained something infinitely more valuable in exchange.
Love has replaced fear as my primary motivation, and partnership has superseded dominance as my preferred method of problem-solving.
“It feels like freedom.” I stand and move toward the door, suddenly eager to find my wife and confirm once again that I’ve made the right choice.
“For the first time in my adult life, I wake up without wondering who might try to kill me today.” We walk through corridors, and I hear Willa’s laughter drifting from the living room.
“She’s transformed this place.” Timur observes the fresh flowers and family photographs that have replaced tactical maps and weapons displays. “She’s made it feel like a home instead of a headquarters.”
“She’s transformed me.” The acknowledgment encompasses everything from major life decisions to daily routines. “She taught me strength can come from vulnerability, and protection doesn’t require control.” I shake my head. “My father must be rolling in his grave.”
“ Da , but that’s good. You never wanted to be like him.”
I nod in agreement as we enter the living room where Willa sits on the sofa with her laptop open, reviewing what appears to be a virtual property tour on the screen.
At thirty-one weeks pregnant with septuplets, she moves carefully but maintains the grace that first attracted me in Henri’s shop.
Her belly has expanded to accommodate seven growing babies, and her rounded face carries the serene contentment of approaching motherhood.
“How did the signing go?” She looks up from the laptop with a smile that makes everything else fade into background noise. “Are you officially a former crime boss now?”
“Officially reformed and respectably boring.” I settle beside her on the sofa, noting how the afternoon light highlights the diamond in her ring, currently worn around her neck on a chain because of her fingers swelling. “Timur is now the proud owner of everything I used to consider important.”
“How does that feel?” Her question echoes Timur’s earlier inquiry and carries a note of concern.
“Good. It’s like I can finally breathe without wondering what I’ll have to sacrifice next to maintain power.
” I take her hand and study the way her swollen fingers intertwine with mine, marveling at how something so simple can provide such profound comfort.
“Now, I can focus on building instead of destroying.”
She turns the laptop toward me, revealing a virtual tour of a mountain estate that overlooks rolling valleys and distant peaks. The property sits on several acres that would provide both privacy and space for children to explore safely, far from the urban dangers that have shaped my worldview.
“What do you think of this one in Kiawah Island, South Carolina?” Her voice carries excitement tempered by practical considerations. “It has eight bedrooms, which gives us room to grow, and the grounds include a stream where the children could play when they’re older.”
I study the images of sun-drenched rooms and sprawling gardens, imagining our seven babies taking their first steps across hardwood floors and learning to walk along peaceful pathways.
The vision represents everything I’ve been working toward since learning about the pregnancy.
“It looks perfect.” I lean closer to examine details of the property layout.
“When can we schedule an in-person visit?”
“Not until after the babies are born and released from NICU, so I hope no one buys it before then.” She closes the laptop and settles back against the sofa cushions with a satisfied sigh.
“That gives us time to research options and narrow down our choices before we start traveling with seven infants.”
Timur excuses himself to handle final paperwork related to the organizational transfer, leaving us alone. The silence feels comfortable rather than tense, filled with shared anticipation for the future we’re building.
“Do you have any second thoughts about leaving Charleston?” Willa’s question touches on concerns we’ve discussed repeatedly as her due date approaches. “This city holds a lot of history for you.”
“Most of that history involves violence.” I trace patterns across her palm while speaking. “I’d rather our children grow up somewhere without those associations, where we can write new stories instead of being haunted by old ones.”
“Four more days until the C-section.” She places my hand against her belly, where I can feel the almost incessant movement from the babies we’ll soon meet. “Are you ready to be a father to seven children simultaneously?”
The question touches on fundamental changes that will reshape every aspect of our daily existence.
I’ve spent months preparing mentally and practically for the responsibilities ahead, but abstract planning feels inadequate compared to the imminent reality.
“I’m ready to try.” The honest answer acknowledges both excitement and apprehension about becoming a father under such extraordinary circumstances.
“We’ll learn as we go and figure out how to balance seven different personalities and needs. ”
She shifts position on the sofa, seeking comfort that becomes increasingly elusive as the babies grow larger, and their due date approaches.
Dr. Layton has been monitoring her condition closely, seeing her every three days now, and adjusting medications and scheduling to ensure the safest possible delivery for both mother and children.
“Sometimes I wonder if we’ll remember what it was like before—” Her words cut off abruptly as her face contorts with sudden pain. “Oh.”
The sound makes me instantly alert to crisis, scanning her expression for signs of distress. Her breathing becomes shallow and rapid while she grips my hand with surprising strength.
“What’s wrong?” I lean closer, ready to call for medical assistance if necessary. “Is it the babies?”
“I think...” She tries to speak through another wave of obvious discomfort. “I think my water just broke.”
I look down and see clear fluid spreading across the sofa cushions, confirming what her body has already announced. The babies have decided to arrive four days ahead of schedule, transforming our peaceful afternoon into a medical emergency.
“Four days early.” I stand quickly and reach for my phone to call Dr. Layton’s emergency line. “That’s okay though. That’s still thirty-one weeks and three days, which should be safe for septuplets.”
Willa nods through another contraction that makes her double over with pain, and her face has gone pale with the sudden onset of labor. I help her to her feet while coordinating transportation to the hospital, where an extensive medical team waits for exactly this scenario.
“The bags are already packed.” She moves slowly toward the stairs while I make rapid-fire phone calls to alert everyone who needs to know about this development. “Dr. Layton said this could happen any time after thirty weeks.”
Panic and excitement collide in my chest as I realize that within hours, I’ll see the seven babies who represent everything Willa and I have survived and sacrificed to protect.
The future we’ve been planning is about to become present reality, complete with all the chaos and joy that comes with sudden parenthood.
“Are you ready for this?” I take her arm as we move toward the car that will carry us to the next chapter of our lives together.
“Ready or not,” She smiles through obvious discomfort, “Our children have decided it’s time to meet their parents.”