Page 52 of Porcelain Vows

Once more, the contradiction tears at me. How can the same man who destroyed my family now show such concern for the family we’re creating?

“You’re going to be fine,” he says again as we reach the car, Sasha already holding the door open. “Both of you.”

Is he saying it for me, or for himself?

He settles me in the backseat with surprising care, sliding in beside me rather than taking his usual place up front. As Sasha pulls away from Blackwood Manor, another contraction builds. I grip the leather seat, trying to breathe through it.

Aleksei takes my hand, placing it against his chest.

“Like this,” he says, exaggerating his breathing. “Slow. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I find myself following his lead, matching my breaths to his. The pain remains, but somehow becomes manageable. When it passes, I don’t pull my hand away. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my palm.

“Where did you learn that?” I ask, curiosity temporarily overriding my fear.

A shadow crosses his face. “Olga. When Bobik was born.”

The mention of his son’s dead mother reminds me of all I still don’t understand about this man. All the secrets still between us.

Before I can respond, another contraction begins. They’re coming faster now, more intense. Aleksei checks his watch.

“Bystréye, chyórt poberí!” he snaps at Sasha, who responds by stepping on the gas.

I close my eyes, focusing on survival. On breathing. On the tiny life inside me preparing to enter the world.

A world where her father is both protector and predator. Where her mother is caught between love and vengeance. Where nothing is as simple as Hannah painted it.

“He’s a monster, Stella. A killer. Get out while you can.”

Hannah’s words echo in my mind as the car speeds through Los Angeles traffic, as Aleksei’s hand supports my back, murmuring encouragement in my ear.

Is this tenderness an act? Or is this the real man behind the monster Hannah described?

As we pull up to the hospital, I find myself praying more and more that it’s not true. That it’s all a mistake. Because I want to put my faith in this man who is barking out orders that has people rushing to help me. I barely get a chance to see the emergency entrance before I’m being whisked through the wards.

The private suite looks more like a luxury hotel than a medical facility. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the city. Artwork hangs on walls painted in soothing tones. Fresh flowers fill crystal vases on every surface.

I notice these details in fragments between contractions, which now come relentlessly, barely giving me time to recover before the next begins.

Dr. Malhotra arrives minutes after we do, already gowned and gloved. He examines me with clinical efficiency while a team of nurses prepares equipment around us.

“Six centimeters dilated,” he announces. “This baby is eager to meet her parents.”

Her parents. The phrase hangs in the air between Aleksei and me. Despite everything, we are about to be bound together by something more permanent than marriage, more powerful than any business arrangement.

A child.

Ourchild.

An officious-looking sister turns to Aleksei. “Sir, there’s a waiting area outside where you might be more comfortable,” she says.

The look he gives her could freeze blood. “I stay,” he says in a tone that has her visibly shrinking back.

As another contraction builds, I find myself grateful for his presence. I hate needing him, but God, I need him right now.

The next hours blur into a haze of pain and effort. The contractions intensify until they’re nearly continuous, my body working beyond my control to bring our daughter into the world. Through it all, Aleksei remains a constant presence— wiping sweat from my forehead, supporting my back when I need to change positions, speaking quiet words of encouragement that sound strange in his usually commanding voice.

“You’re doing well,milaya,” he murmurs as I grip his hand hard enough to break bones. He doesn’t flinch. “You’re the strongest woman I know.”

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