Page 52 of Bratva Boss's Secret Baby

“Good. That’s a relief.” His tone shifts slightly. “You sound different though.”

I lean back in my chair, staring out at the gardens where security lights illuminate the grounds in carefully planned patterns. “I’ve been thinking about making some changes.”

“What kind of changes?” His voice is cautious now.

“Stepping back from active operations and delegating more responsibility. Eventually, I’ll be transitioning to purely legitimate business ventures.” The silence on the other end of the line stretches long enough that I wonder if the call has dropped. “Maksim?”

“I’m here. Just processing what you’re telling me.” His voice is carefully neutral. “You’re talking about retirement.”

“Not right away, but yes, eventually.”

He lets out a long breath. “Because of the baby?”

“Because of my family.” The word feels foreign on my tongue, but also right in ways I hadn’t expected. “I can’t raise a daughter in this world, Maksim. I won’t have her grow up thinking violence is normal, and fear is just part of life.”

“And you think you can just walk away after everything you’ve built, leaving behind everyone who depends on you?” The questions echo Sabrina’s concerns but coming from Maksim they carry additional weight because he understands in a wayshe can’t. He knows better than anyone how dangerous it can be to show weakness in our world, and how quickly allies can become enemies when they sense vulnerability.

I rub my temples. “I’ll transition slowly. Put safeguards in place and make sure everyone who works for me is taken care of.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, and you know it.” His voice carries years of shared experience.

He’s right. The real danger won’t come from my own people, but from enemies who see my withdrawal as an opportunity to strike and from rivals who view my desire for a peaceful life as proof that I’ve gone soft. “I’ll handle the security concerns as they arise.”

Maksim makes a sound of frustration. “By hiding in some suburban fortress for the rest of your life?”

“By being smart about how I extract myself from situations that could put my family at risk.”

He sighs, and I can picture him rubbing his temples the way he does when he’s trying to solve an impossible problem. “What do you need from me?”

“Time to figure this out, support while I transition, and your word that you’ll help me keep them safe no matter what happens.”

“You have all of that. You’ve always had all of that.” His voice softens with something like affection.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until we see if this is actually possible.”

After we hang up, I sit alone in the darkness and think about the ultrasound photos tucked away in my desk drawer. They’re proof of my daughter’s existence, her perfect innocence, and her complete lack of awareness that her existence has already changed everything about my priorities.

I don’t know if it’s possible to build the kind of life I want for her, or if I can successfully transition from the man I’ve been to the man I need to become, but I have to try. The alternative of raising her in a world where violence is always just beneath the surface is unacceptable.

She deserves better than that. They both deserve a normal, safe, and happy life.

I’ll do whatever it takes to give it to them.

19

Sabrina

Afew days later, Nikandr surprises me by suggesting we go shopping for the baby. Not online shopping with overnight delivery to the estate, but actual shopping in an actual store where normal people buy things for their children. “Are you sure?” I ask, looking up from the pregnancy book I’ve been reading in the sunroom. “Won’t that be a security risk?”

He closes his laptop and gives me a look that’s half-amusement, half-determination. “I think we can manage a trip to a baby boutique without causing an international incident.”

The drive into town feels surreal. I sit in the passenger seat of Nikandr’s understated sedan instead of the bulletproof SUV to which I’ve grown accustomed, watching familiar neighborhoods roll past the windows. Maksim follows in a second car at a discreet distance, but for the first time in weeks, I feel almost normal.

The boutique Nikandr chooses is in an upscale shopping district, where everything costs three times what it should but comes wrapped in tissue paper and tied with ribbon. A soft chime announces our arrival, and I’m immediately surrounded by the most beautiful baby things I’ve ever seen.

The scent of lavender and something clean and powdery that must be designed to make expectant mothers lose their minds with nesting instincts hits me. Display cases showcase handmade booties that cost more than my most expensive pair of shoes, and the lighting is soft and warm in a way that makes everything look like it belongs in a magazine.

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