Page 111 of Vendetta Crown

"I apologize for not wrapping them," Vera says. "The last few weeks, my fingers have been too swollen to manage the paper and ribbon."

"You didn't need to get me anything," I protest. "You being here is gift enough."

Vera waves away my words. "Nonsense. What's the point of being a woman of means if you can't spoil your friends?"

Daria returns carrying a white tissue-wrapped bundle. She places it on the table in front of me with a small smile.

I carefully unfold the delicate paper, revealing two tiny hand-sewn onesies. One pale yellow and the other soft green.

Then I see it—embroidered in elegant letters across the chest of each one are the names we chose.

"Nadia and Andrei," I whisper, running my fingers over the stitching. "How did you know? We didn't announce the names at the baby shower."

Vera smiles, a hint of mischief in her eyes. She glances at Daria, who stands beside us.

Daria passes a knowing smile between us. "I may have shared that information with Vera Tikhonova," she admits, her usually stern face softening. "I heard the names pass on Ruslan's lips while he was planning the baby shower. He was practicing what to say if anyone asked."

"He's been practicing?" The thought of my stoic, powerful husband rehearsing baby name announcements makes my heart swell.

"Like a schoolboy before a recitation," Daria says with a gentle laugh. "Pacing the study, muttering 'Andrei and Nadia Dragunov' over and over."

I can't help but smile at the image. The fearsome Ruslan Dragunov, nervous about introducing his children's names.

"You needn't worry about him, Aurora," Daria continues, her voice steady and reassuring. "I've known Ruslan since he was a boy. He's always been a fighter. He's always found his way home." She places her hand briefly on my shoulder. "This mansion has seen much darkness, but now it sees light. Your family—Ruslan, you, and the babies—you are that light."

Her words wrap around me like a warm blanket. For the first time since Ruslan left, I feel my shoulders relax.

As the tension eases from my body, my stomach growls loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Oh!" I place my hand over my belly, embarrassed. "I guess I'm hungry after all."

Vera laughs. "Eat! They're demanding their dinner."

I look down at my barely-touched plate and then up at Daria. "Is there still any food from the kitchen? Something warm, maybe?"

Daria's face lights up. "Of course. I'll find something substantial."

As Daria bustles away, I turn back to Vera, clutching the tiny onesies against my chest.

"Thank you for these. They're perfect."

"You're welcome." Vera nods, her eyes gentle but certain. "And you must trust that Ruslan will come back, Aurora. As sure as the tide."

29

RUSLAN

I leanmy head against the tinted window, watching the lights of downtown Los Angeles blur past as our convoy of three black SUVs cuts through the night traffic.

My fingers drum against the compact submachine-gun hidden in my suit jacket the closer we get.

"Do you really think we can trust her information?" Artyom asks from the driver's seat, his eyes briefly meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

I consider his question carefully. Trust Tamara? After everything?

"No." I admit, my throat tight with almost two decades of hatred. "There's a part of me that doesn't trust her. Maybe never will."

But then I remember how she looked just hours ago. Not the haughty bratva princess, but a desperate broken woman clinging her daughters like it was the last time she could ever do so. She had buried her face in their hair, whispered in their ears, and kept turning around to look at them as she finally forced herself to walk away.

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