Sofia
One Year later
The driver pulls to a stop in front of our home. Nelson hops out of the front passenger seat and comes around to open the door. Anton stands at the curb to accept me like a package being handed off.
“See you tomorrow,” I say to Nelson.
“Bright and early.”
He’s moved out. Anton lives with us full time now. Security. Babysitter. And the best baby-tickler.
It’s been a year since the twins were born, and sometimes I still can’t believe this is my life.
My priorities have changed dramatically.
I managed to finally finish my degree but only because I hated leaving it unfinished with one semester left.
My diploma is in a drawer somewhere in Sergei’s office.
I earned it. And one day when we’re hounding our kids to get an education, I can be a good example.
“How was your day?” Anton asks as we walk up the steps.
“Good. You?”
He chuckles. “I’ll be in my apartment.”
The moment I open the door, I hear them. Two distinct cries of outrage coming from the living room.
I smile. The boys have opinions about everything these days, and they’re not shy about expressing them.
I follow the sound and find Sergei on the floor, surrounded by plastic pieces that I assume are supposed to form some kind of toy. Both boys are in their playpen, standing at the edge, watching their father with matching expressions of betrayal.
“Dada!” Kirill shouts, pointing at Sergei accusingly.
“Dada!” Anton echoes, not to be outdone.
Sergei looks up at me, his hair disheveled, frustration clear on his face. “These instructions are in French. Why the fuck are the instructions in French?”
I can’t help but laugh. The F-bombs should probably stop, but there are moments, like this one, that require a little colorful language. We’ll protect our boys from a lot of things, but four-letter words will not be one of them.
“That’s not the point.” He holds up two identical-looking pieces. “These are supposed to connect, but they don’t fit. Nothing fits.”
I set my bag down and cross to the playpen. Both boys immediately reach for me, their anger at Sergei taking too long to give them their new toy is forgotten.
“Mama! Mama!” They chant in unison.
I scoop up Kirill first, pressing kisses to his face. He giggles and grabs a fistful of my hair. Then I reach for Anton with my other arm, somehow managing to hold both of them.
They’re getting so big. So heavy. I don’t need a gym when I’ve got boys to lift.
“How was your day?” I ask Sergei, looking down at him still surrounded by toy pieces.
“Besides being defeated by yet another stupid toy? Fine.” He stands, stretching. “Kirill had a meeting with the Moscow contacts. Everything’s in place for the new distribution network.”
“The legitimate one?” I clarify.
“The completely legitimate one,” he confirms. “Clean money. Clean product. No organs involved.”
I smile. We’re getting there. Slowly but surely, we’re transforming the Baranov empire into something I can be proud of. Something my sons can inherit without the blood that stained my father’s legacy.
“What about you?” he asks, moving closer. His hand comes up to cup my face. “How was the office?”
“Productive. We finalized the sale of three more properties. The money’s being funneled into the real estate development fund.” I shift Anton higher on my hip. “In five years, we’ll be completely legitimate.”
“Five years,” he repeats, like he’s trying to imagine it.
Kirill reaches for Sergei, making grabby hands. “Dada!”
Sergei takes him from my arms, tossing him gently in the air. Kirill shrieks with laughter. Anton immediately demands the same treatment.
I watch Sergei with our sons, and something warm spreads through my chest. The man has the patience of a saint. It’s like he’s been saving it up for forty years to be used on his sons and only his sons. He still has a temper, but never with us.
He’s a good father. Better than I ever imagined he could be.
“What?” he asks, catching me staring.
“Nothing. I’m just...happy.”
His expression softens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He sets Kirill down carefully, then Anton. Both boys immediately crawl over to the toy pieces scattered across the floor, more interested in the plastic than whatever the toy is supposed to become.
Sergei pulls me against him, his arms wrapping around my waist.
"I love you," he says quietly. "I made a promise to keep you alive. I didn't know keeping you alive would be the only thing that made me want to live."
I don't have words for that. So I kiss him instead.
He kisses me back and I melt into it, my hands coming up to thread through his hair.
When we break apart, I’m breathless. This is the only downside—I miss sex whenever the need arises.
He glances at them, clearly thinking the same thing. They’re both sitting on the floor, holding a piece of plastic and babbling to each other in their own language.
I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Alive.
Anton starts crying. Not his hurt cry or his hungry cry. His “I want attention” cry.
I sigh. “I’ll get him.”
“I’ll put dinner in the oven,” he says. “Mariana made lasagna.”
“Perfect.”
We’ve both learned we’re not cooks. We’re passable but chasing two crawling and almost-walking boys is a full-time job.
We don’t have a nanny, but Sergei has relented and hired a housekeeper who prepares a few meals a week for us.
She’s Kirill’s sister, which is the only reason Sergei trusted her enough to be let into the house.
We’ve pulled back, but he’s still the pakhan. There will always be threats. We know it. We accept it.
If anyone tries to take this from us, they won’t survive.
I scoop up Anton, who immediately stops crying and grins at me. Manipulative little thing. Just like his father.
Kirill toddles over, not wanting to be left out. I somehow manage to pick him up too, settling both boys on my hips.
“Let’s give Dada some peace to make dinner,” I tell them. “How about a bath?”
I carry them upstairs, my heart so full it aches.
This is my life now. Board meetings and bath time. Empire building and bedtime stories. Violence and tenderness existing side by side.
I wouldn’t change a single thing.
I run the bath water, testing the temperature with my finger. I strip them down and place them in the tub.
They immediately splash and chew the toys.
I don’t care. I sit on the floor beside the tub and watch them play.
Everything I never thought I’d have.
Everything Sergei built with me.
Every single day, I choose this life we’ve built together from blood and violence and something that started as obligation but became love.
My father's legacy was bodies. Mine will be something my sons can inherit without apology.
I built an empire from the worst night of my life. And I'd burn it all down and start again if it brought me back here.
Thank you for reading Book 1 of The Sokolov Empire. You can preorder Book 2 HERE. (Turn the page for a sneak peek!)