Page 113 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

Her smile is radiant, her earlier worry forgotten as she reaches out to gently pluck Arnold from my shoulder and place him into Damien’s eager hands. “Careful,” she warns, her voice soft and motherly, “don’t squish him.”

Before I know it, we’re all smiling, our laughter blending together in a way that feels impossibly perfect. We probably look like the happiest family on earth—and maybe, for the first time, that’s exactly what we are.

With a content smile still tugging at my lips, I turn back to the wheel and start the engine. The car hums to life, and we pull away from the side of the road, heading toward our new home.

Katya’s hand slips into mine, her fingers lacing through mine in a quiet show of trust. I squeeze her hand gently, silently reassuring her of everything we just talked about.

In my mind, I can already see it—the apartment on Fifth Avenue, its wide-open spaces filled with light and laughter. It’ll be a place where Sofiya can grow up safe, where she can dream as big as she wants. A place where Damien will always feel lovedand secure. A place where Katya can thrive, where she’ll never feel like she has to choose between her dreams and her family.

Because wherever they are—Katya, Sofiya, and Damien—that’s home.

“Tomorrow’s going to be a big day,” Katya murmurs, her head resting against the window as she watches the scenery blur past.

“Yes,” I agree, glancing over at her. “But we’re ready for it. Things are going to get better now. I promise.”

And for the first time in a long time, I truly believe it.

42

KATYA

“It’s been five hours,” I murmur, barely holding back the frustration and anxiety clawing at my chest. “How much longer will it take?”

“It’s a complex procedure,” Igor reminds me. His words are steady but lined with the tension I know he’s trying to hide. The sharp angle of his jaw gives him away. “They’re putting the implant directly on the brainstem’s surface. We should be glad they’re not rushing.”

He’s right, of course. I know he’s just repeating what the doctors told us, trying to reassure me, but the logic doesn’t settle my nerves. My hands won’t stop trembling, and the relentless tick-tock of the waiting room clock feels like a cruel taunt. Until I see Sofiya with my own eyes, until I know for certain that she’s okay, I won’t be able to breathe.

“You’ll see Sofiya soon,” Igor says, reaching over to rub slow, calming circles on my back. “We just have to give the doctors the time they need. Evangeline Tolliver is the best specialist in the world. This is her playground. Trust her to do her job.”

“Evangeline,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Her parents must have named her that just so she could be a pompous ass her whole life.”

Igor lets out a sudden, uncontrollable laugh that startles a few heads in the sterile waiting room. The sound bursts from him, so genuine and full of life, and despite the suffocating weight of worry pressing on me, I can’t stop myself from joining in. Our laughter echoes off the blank walls of the hospital, startling a few curious glances from other waiting families.

For the first time in hours, I feel the smallest crack in the fear that’s been weighing on me. His laughter is infectious, like the first drop of rain after a drought. It’s tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a promise of what’s to come. A reminder that there’s still life waiting for us, shining out from the brilliant blue of his eyes.

“Do you want some coffee while we wait?” Igor asks, rising from his chair.

I nod, watching as he walks over to the corner of the room where a modest coffee station is tucked away. My gaze lingers on him, on the broad lines of his back and the way his jeans hug him just right. Despite the circumstances, my lips curl into a small smile.

Since we’ve confessed our feelings for each other, it’s like my desire for him has been unleashed, a balloon stretched to bursting. The man who was once forbidden is now mine, and every time I look at him, the reality of it catches me off guard. Being with Igor, building a life with him—it’s a dream. Every morning I wake up beside him, I’m reminded that dreams can come true.

My phone buzzes in my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Vasiliy,” I answer, leaning back in my chair. “Everything okay?”

“Is she out yet?” he asks. The sound of barking dogs echoes in the background.

“Not yet. Igor’s getting us some coffee, and then we’ll check in with the doctors,” I say, glancing across the room as Igor walks back toward me, two steaming mugs in hand. “How was your flight?”

“Too long.” He sighs heavily. “I still don’t understand why you and Nikolai insist on living so far from Moscow. It takes forever to get back.”

His words carry their usual gruff annoyance, but beneath it, I can hear the relief coming through. Things have finally calmed.

“You’re the last Volkov who still swears by Russia,” I tease, smiling. “You should try to embrace the USA.”

“I really don’t want to,” Vasiliy replies with a chuckle, but there’s a weariness there that I don’t miss.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my stomach twisting.

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