Epilogue Kiera
Another contraction rips through me, and I grip the edge of the bed so hard, my knuckles turn white. The pain is intense, overwhelming, and all I want is for this to be over. But instead of the calm, focused environment I'd imagined for this moment, I'm surrounded by chaos.
"Breathe, Kiera. Remember to breathe." That's Kevin, hovering on my left side with his hand on my shoulder like he's coaching me through a marathon.
"Should we get more towels?" Devin asks from somewhere near the foot of the bed. "I feel like we need more towels."
"The doctor said she has enough towels," Jack says, his cop voice trying to maintain order. "Stop panicking."
"I'm not panicking. You're panicking."
"Nobody's panicking," Kaleb interjects, though his voice is pitched higher than usual. "We're all just… concerned."
Emil stands on my right, his hand wrapped around mine, his dark eyes fixed on my face with an intensity that would normally comfort me. But right now, with all the noise and movement and bodies crowding the bedroom, I can't think. I can't focus. I can't do what I need to do.
The doctor, a calm woman in her fifties who's delivered hundreds of babies, tries to move closer to check my progress. But she has to navigate around Devin, who's pacing near the bed, and Kevin, who refuses to move from his position at my side.
"Gentlemen," the doctor says with admirable patience, "I really need some space to work here."
"We're giving you space," Kevin says, not moving an inch.
Another contraction hits, stronger this time, and I cry out. Emil's grip on my hand tightens, and suddenly, all four of my brothers are talking at once, offering advice and encouragement and completely unhelpful suggestions.
"Should she be making that sound?"
"Maybe we should call an ambulance."
"The doctor's right here, idiot."
"Don't call me an idiot while our sister is in labor!"
"Everyone calm down!"
I'd agreed to a home birth because Emil had convinced me it would be safer, more private, and more comfortable than a hospital.
He'd hired the best doctor, set up the bedroom with everything we could possibly need, and promised me it would be peaceful.
What he hadn't accounted for was my brothers' inability to stay calm in a crisis.
The pain subsides for a moment, and I take a shaky breath. The doctor is trying again to get close enough to examine me, but now Jack has moved to ask her a question about timing, and Kaleb is hovering nearby with a worried expression that makes him look like he might pass out.
"Kiera, you're doing great," Kevin says, squeezing my shoulder. "Just keep breathing."
"I am breathing," I snap, my patience finally breaking. "I've been breathing this whole time!"
"I just meant—"
"I know what you meant!" Another contraction starts building, and with it, my frustration reaches a breaking point. The noise, the crowding, the constant commentary, it's all too much. I can't concentrate on what my body needs to do when I'm surrounded by anxious men who won't shut up.
"Everybody out!" I shout, my voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. "Get out! All of you!"
The room goes silent. Four pairs of eyes stare at me in shock.
"Kiera—" Kevin starts.
"Out!" I point toward the door with my free hand, the one that isn't crushing Emil's fingers. "I can't do this with all of you hovering over me like I'm going to break! The doctor can't even get near me because you're all in the way!"
"But we want to help," Devin says, looking genuinely hurt.
"You can help by leaving!" Another contraction hits, and I groan through it, squeezing Emil's hand hard enough that I'm probably cutting off his circulation. "Please. I need quiet. I need space. I need to focus."
The doctor nods approvingly. "She's right. Too many people in the room can make labor more stressful. It's better if—"
"Fine," Jack says, holding up his hands. "We'll go. But we're right outside if you need us."
"We're not going far," Kevin adds, reluctantly moving toward the door.
"Call us if anything happens," Kaleb says.
"We'll be in the hallway," Devin promises.
They file out one by one, casting worried glances back at me until the door finally closes behind them. The sudden quiet is almost shocking. I can hear my own breathing again, the soft hum of the air conditioning, and the doctor's calm voice as she moves to the foot of the bed.
"Much better," she says with a small smile. "Now, let's see how you're progressing."
Emil stays beside me, his presence solid and reassuring. He hasn't said much through all of this, content to let my brothers fuss while he simply holds my hand and watches me with those dark, intense eyes. Now, with just the three of us in the room, he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead.
"You're doing amazing," he murmurs against my skin.
"I don't feel amazing," I admit, my voice shaking. "I feel like I'm being torn apart."
"You're bringing our child into the world." His hand moves to brush damp hair back from my face, his touch gentle despite the strength in his fingers. "That's the most amazing thing anyone can do."
The doctor finishes her examination and looks up with an encouraging smile. "You're fully dilated. It's time to push."
Terror and excitement war in my chest. This is it. After nine months of waiting and preparing, of wondering what our child will look like and who they will become, I'm finally going to meet them.
"I'm scared," I whisper to Emil.
"I know." He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "But I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
The next while is a blur of pain and effort and the doctor's steady instructions. Push. Breathe. Rest. Push again. Emil never leaves my side, never lets go of my hand, never stops murmuring encouragement, even when I'm sure I can't do this anymore.
"I can see the head," the doctor says, and there's excitement in her voice now. "One more big push, Kiera. You're almost there."
I gather every ounce of strength I have left and push with everything in me. The pressure is enormous, overwhelming, and then suddenly, it releases. A thin, angry cry fills the room, and I collapse back against the pillows, gasping for breath.
"It's a girl," the doctor announces. "A beautiful, healthy girl."
She places the baby on my chest, and I look down at the tiny, red-faced creature who's still crying indignantly about being forced out of her warm, comfortable home. She's covered in vernix and blood, her dark hair plastered to her head, and her little fists are waving in the air. She's perfect.
"Oh, my God," I breathe, my hands coming up to cradle her tiny body. "Emil, look at her."
He's staring at our daughter with an expression I've never seen on his face before. Wonder. Awe. Love so fierce, it takes my breath away. His hand, still holding mine, trembles slightly.
"She's perfect," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "She's absolutely perfect."
"I'm so glad we didn't have a boy," I say with a shaky laugh, tears streaming down my face. "I don't think I could handle another male in this family—not with the four brothers I already have."
Emil chuckles. He leans down and kisses me, soft and sweet, before pressing his lips to our daughter's head. "Thank you," he whispers.
The doctor works efficiently, delivering the placenta and cleaning me up while I hold our baby.
She's stopped crying now, her dark eyes, so much like her father's, blinking up at me with unfocused curiosity.
I count her fingers and toes and marvel at the tiny perfection of her ears and the bow of her lips.
"Can I hold her?" Emil asks, and there's something almost hesitant in his voice, like he's afraid he might break her.
I carefully transfer our daughter into his arms, watching as this powerful, dangerous man who's killed without hesitation cradles our tiny baby like she's made of glass. He looks down at her with such tenderness that my heart feels like it might burst.
"Hello, little one," he murmurs. "I'm your papa. And I promise you, no one will ever hurt you. Not while I'm alive."
A knock on the door interrupts the moment. "Can we come in now?" Kevin's voice calls from the hallway. "We've been patient, but we're dying out here."
I laugh, wiping at my tears. "Yes. Come in."
The door opens and my four brothers practically tumble into the room, their faces anxious and eager. They stop short when they see Emil holding the baby, their expressions softening immediately.
"Come meet your niece," I say, gesturing them closer.
They crowd around Emil, peering down at the baby with identical expressions of wonder. Even Jack, usually so controlled and professional, has tears in his eyes.
"She's so small," Kaleb breathes. "I forgot how small they are."
"Speaking of small," I say, looking at him with a smile, "where's your little one?"
As if on cue, the door opens again and Mark enters carrying a chubby, dark-haired baby boy who's almost a year old. The child is dressed in tiny jeans and a striped shirt, his round face breaking into a gummy smile when he sees all the people in the room.
"Sorry we're late," Mark says, moving to stand beside Kaleb. "Someone needed a diaper change right as we were leaving."
I look at the baby in Mark's arms, remembering how long Kaleb and Mark fought for the right to adopt. They'd finally been approved two months ago, and I'd never seen two happier parents. Except, maybe, for Emil and me right now.
"Bring him here," I say, holding out my arms. "Let me see my nephew."
Mark brings the baby over, and I take him carefully, mindful of my exhausted body. The little boy babbles happily, reaching for my hair with chubby fingers. He smells like baby powder and milk, and holding him makes my heart swell with love for my growing family.
"He's gotten so big," I say, kissing his soft cheek. "And so handsome."
"Just like his dads," Kaleb says with a grin, though his eyes are suspiciously bright.
We spend the next hour passing the babies around, my brothers taking turns holding their new niece while Mark and Kaleb show off their son's latest tricks. The room is full of laughter and joy, the earlier chaos replaced with something warm and beautiful.
Eventually, the doctor suggests that I need rest, and my brothers reluctantly prepare to leave.
They each kiss my forehead and promise to come back tomorrow, their faces still glowing with happiness.
Kaleb and Mark are the last to go, their son waving bye-bye with his little hand as they head out the door.
Finally, it's just Emil, me, and our daughter. The quiet settles over us like a blanket, peaceful and perfect. Emil carefully places the baby back in my arms and sits on the edge of the bed beside us.
"I have something to tell you," he says, his hand resting on my leg. "Something I've been waiting for the right moment to share."
I look up at him, curious. "What is it?"
"Remember when you went with me to look at various properties?"
I nod, remembering the day we'd toured several buildings and lots. I'd assumed he was expanding his business operations, looking for new locations for his various enterprises.
"I bought one of those properties," he continues, his dark eyes watching my face carefully. "The warehouse district building with the large open floor plan and the natural light."
"Okay," I say slowly, not sure where he's going with this.
"It's yours."
I blink. "What?"
"Your own design studio." A smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
"I had it renovated to your specifications.
Cutting tables, industrial sewing machines, fabric storage, everything you need.
And the building next door, the larger one?
That's set up as a factory for when you're ready to start mass producing your designs. "
I stare at him, my mouth falling open. "You… you bought me a studio? And a factory?"
"You're incredibly talented, Kiera. Your wedding dress, my suit, everything you've designed has been beautiful.
You shouldn't be wasting that talent working as a secretary at a fashion magazine.
" He reaches out to stroke our daughter's cheek with one finger.
"You should be creating. Building your own brand and making a name for yourself. "
Tears spill down my cheeks again, but these are happy tears. Emil, this man who'd once terrified me, who'd forced his way into my life and refused to let me go, has given me a way to be a mother and a designer, to build a career and a family.
"I don't know what to say," I whisper.
"Say you'll use it." He leans in and kisses me softly. "Say you'll create beautiful things and show the world what you're capable of."
"I will." I kiss him back, tasting salt from my tears. "Thank you."
"I'd fight for you a thousand times over," he says quietly. "You and our daughter are everything to me. My whole world."
Our baby makes a soft sound, and we both look down at her. She's sleeping now, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath, her little hand curled against her cheek. She's so small and fragile, so absolutely perfect.
"What should we name her?" I ask, realizing we've been so focused on preparing for her arrival that we never actually decided on a name.
Emil considers for a moment, his eyes never leaving our daughter's face. "What about Natasha? It means 'born on Christmas day' in Russian. A gift."
"Natasha," I repeat, testing the name. It feels right, strong and beautiful like I hope our daughter will be. "Natasha Nikitin. I love it."
"Natasha it is, then." He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close so we're both looking down at our sleeping daughter. "Welcome to the world, little Natasha. Your mama and I have been waiting for you."
I lean my head against Emil's shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up with me. My body aches, I'm covered in sweat, and I probably look like hell. But I've never been happier, never felt more complete.
This man, this dangerous, powerful man who rules an empire built on violence and fear, holds me and our daughter like we're the most precious things in the world. And maybe we are. Maybe love can exist even in the darkest places. Maybe happiness can bloom even in the most unlikely soil.
"I love you," I whisper, the words coming easily now when once they would have terrified me.
"I love you too," he murmurs back, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Both of you. Forever."
Outside, the sun is setting over the estate grounds, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Inside, in this quiet room, our little family is complete. A Mafia boss, a designer, and the tiny baby girl who will grow up knowing she's loved beyond measure.
It's not the life I imagined for myself a year ago. It's better.