Page 60 of Bratva Boss's Secret Baby

“God, Sabrina. When you put it like that...”

“I know it sounds impossible. I know the odds are against us, but what if they’re not? What if he really is ready to choose us over everything else he’s built?”

“Then you’d have your fairy tale ending.”

The wistful note in her voice makes me smile despite the weight of what I’m contemplating. “Not a fairy tale. Just a chance at something real and normal and safe.”

“Safety comes first,” she says, echoing the same words she’s said dozens of times since this all began. “Promise me you won’t compromise on that, no matter how much you love him.”

The casual way she says love makes my breath catch. I haven’t admitted that to anyone, barely even to myself, but hearing it spoken aloud makes it impossible to deny. “I promise,” I whisper, meaning it completely.

“Okay. Then I support whatever decision you make. Just...be careful how you approach this conversation. Men like him don’t respond well to ultimatums.”

I scowl instinctively. “It’s not an ultimatum. It’s just honesty about what I need to feel safe building a life with him.”

She scoffs. “There’s a difference?”

I consider that, running my fingers over the soft fabric in my lap. “I think so. An ultimatum is about control and manipulation. This is about giving him the information he needs to make his own choice about what he wants our future to look like.”

“And if he chooses wrong?”

I hesitate before sighing. “At least I’ll know where I stand.”

We talk for a few more minutes about practical things—her work schedule, plans for the nursery, and the latest cravings that have me mixing hot sauce with chocolate ice cream—but I can tell she’s still worried about the conversation I’m planning to have with Nikandr.

After we hang up, I sit in the quiet sunroom, surrounded by reminders of the life I’m hoping to build. The baby clothes represent innocence and possibility. The rocking chair in the nursery speaks to quiet moments of comfort and connection. The ultrasound photos propped on the side table in most rooms of the house show our daughter’s perfect profile, captured in stunning detail.

Everything whispers of a future I want so desperately I can taste it.

I’m still lost in thought when footsteps in the hallway announce someone’s approach. The cadence is too light to be Nikandr, and sure enough, Maksim appears in the doorway, carrying a tablet and wearing his usual expression of controlled professionalism.

“Sabrina.” He nods politely. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all. I’m just folding baby clothes and overthinking everything.”

Something that might be a smile flickers across his face. “A dangerous combination.”

I gesture to the chair across from me. “Want to sit? Or are you looking for Nikandr? He’s in his office working on something involving spreadsheets and financial projections.”

Maksim settles into the chair, setting aside his tablet. “Actually, I was hoping to speak with you.”

The serious tone makes me straighten. “Is everything okay? Is there a threat?—”

“No threats,” he assures me quickly. “Nothing like that. I just...” He pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I overheard part of your phone conversation as I was walking by. Not intentionally, but the acoustics in this house...”

Heat floods my cheeks. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know you’re planning to have a serious conversation with Nikandr about his future in the organization.”

I cross my arms, feeling suddenly defensive. “And you have opinions about that?”

“I have observations.” He leans forward slightly, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “Nikandr isn’t the same man he was six months ago. Hell, he’s not the same man he was six weeks ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been making changes. Quietly and carefully, but substantive changes to how he operates, what he prioritizes, and where he focuses his attention.”

My pulse quickens. “What kind of changes?”

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