Page 57 of Filthy Lies

“Especially now.” I guide her to the leather sofa and sit beside her. “It’s time we remind everyone who we are.”

“And who are we, Vincent?” Her voice has that edge I’ve come to recognize—the warning before the storm.

“We’re the Akopovs. Strong. Unafraid.” I take her free hand in mine. “A family that lives normally despite threats. That christens their daughter according to tradition, on schedule. That doesn’t hide.”

Her eyes narrow. “You want to use our daughter as a statement.”

“I want to use theceremonyas a statement. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” Rowan adjusts Sofi’s swaddle. “Because it sounds like you’re putting her in the crosshairs to prove a point.”

“I’m showing our enemies that we won’t be cowed.”

She scowls. “This isn’t about us not being ‘cowed,’ Vince. This is about you wanting to wave a red flag in front of a bull.” She paces in front of me, voice tight but controlled so as not to wake our daughter. “You’re turning our baby’s christening into a power play.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Everything in our world is a power play, Rowan. Every action, every appearance, every event is interpreted as strength or weakness.”

“She’s an infant!”

“She’s an Akopov.”

The look Rowan gives me could freeze hell. “No. I refuse to accept that.”

“Accept it or don’t, but it’s reality, whether you like it or not.”

“Your reality, maybe.” She clutches Sofiya tighter. “I want something different for her.”

I rise slowly, maintaining careful distance to avoid escalating the tension. “So do I. But right now, we’re surrounded by enemies who respect only one thing: strength.”

“But you think they’ll respect a christening? They kidnapped me while I was mid-labor, Vince. What makes you think they’ll draw the line at a damn church?” Her voice rises, and Sofiya stirs witha whimper. Rowan immediately softens her tone, kissing our daughter’s head. “I’m sorry, angel. Mommy’s sorry.”

I watch them, this fierce protector and the tiny life she shields. My chest aches with a mixture of love and frustration.

“Rowan.” I step closer, keeping my voice low. “I’ve never asked you to understand all of my decisions. But I need you to trust that I would never, ever put Sofiya in danger.”

“Not intentionally.” Her green eyes lock with mine. “But your perspective is warped, Vince. You were raised to believe strength is about making a show, about never backing down. I was raised to believe strength is about protecting what matters, whatever it takes.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Aren’t they? Because right now, it feels like you’re choosing the show over the protection.”

Her words cut deep, not because they’re cruel, but because there’s truth in them. I was taught from childhood that perception is everything. Show weakness, and you become prey. Show strength, and predators hesitate.

But Rowan wasn’t raised in that world.

I go to the window again, giving myself space to think. Below, the security team changes shifts, men with guns protecting the perimeter of our home. Is this the life I want for my daughter? Always surrounded by weapons and threat assessments?

No. But it’s the life she has. For now.

“What if we compromise?” I offer finally.

Rowan’s posture softens, but only slightly. “I’m listening.”

“A private ceremony. Small. Only essential family and a few strategic guests.”

She considers this, gently swaying as Sofiya sleeps on. “Define ‘strategic guests.’”

“Arkady. Dimitri. Heads of the allied families who need to see we’re standing firm.” I pause. “And Grigor.”

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