Page 3 of The Disputed Legacy
As I watched Rosie resume her tasks, though, I hated how what Margo said was true at the same time it was false. Here atthe diner, we could have each other’s backs. I had theirs. Margo had mine. We stuck together as a sisterhood here. But other than that, I was so sick of being alone.
I’d lost count of how many times I’d wished that I didn’t have to be so alone. That I could have somebody to supportme, to back me up when the bad times came.
But there was no point in wishing and daydreaming. Just like it was a waste of time and energy to compare myself to Irene, or to judge about how she’d spend her money versus how I had to scrimp and save with mine, it was useless to wish for another life.
No matter what, I’d always have to beon. To protect. To be a mother and defend.
My gaze was drawn toward Oscar, where he smiled and colored, talking to Irene as she chatted with him.
He was the reason I would beonand ready to protect for the rest of my life. It sounded daunting, to be alone and the only person to keep him safe forever, but it was simply the only way I knew how to handle the hand of cards that I’d been dealt.
“Willow?” another waitress hustled to put her order on the ticket wheel that pivoted to the kitchen for the hip-hop-loving cook who spoke no English. “You got four at table nine.”
I nodded, exhaling a deep breath and preparing to get back to it. Reflecting on the unfairness of life wouldn’t ever get me any tips—but those construction workers who looked starving would.
2
SAUL
Maxim propped his daughter against his chest as he reached for another paper off his desk.
Wait. No. Nothisdesk.
Our father, Grigory, paced off to the side of the office that used to be his. Over a year had passed since someone poisoned him and nearly killed him. It seemed like so long ago at the same time that it felt like it had just happened last week. Such a tragic and dangerous experience like that would have lasting effects on all of our lives.
That assassination attempt had impacted Maxim, my oldest brother, the most. It was evident in how he sat in Father’s chair. How he treated this cluttered and messy desktop as his own. Father didn’t even act like it was his room to rule from anymore, that used to be being relegated to one task—recovering.
Isabella fussed again, reaching for Maxim’s beard with so much of a grip that he winced.
“Ah!”
I chuckled, always amused by this sweet girl. From the moment Sloane and Maxim welcomed her into the world as the first daughter of the next generation, I was smitten. Little Isawas the first one to make me an uncle, and I wouldn’t ever slack in being her favorite.
“I’ll take her,” I offered, like I always did when I came home to visit. Holding my hands up and my arms out, I waited for her to notice me and give me that precious smile.
And there it was.
She babbled, pivoting to extend her chubby little arms out to me and kick her legs. Every time she showed such instant excitement to see me filled my heart with so much joy. I loved being the uncle she favored. I enjoyed her enthusiasm to be near me because the feeling was mutual.
I’d never spent much time being philosophical about the concept of love. I loved my family. I loved being a leader within the Ivanov Syndicate.
But my niece?
She’d shown me that there was an even deeper love to experience.
Something that melted more of my heart to the point I was wondering when and how I’d ever have this myself.
No. Not again. Not now.
Keeping an easy smile on my face as Maxim handed her over, I shut down the curiosity about what it would be like to have my own version of this.
To be a father.
To have a daughter of my own.
To know that I wasn’t alone anymore.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Maxim grumped as I cuddled Isa against my chest, encouraging her to play with my tie by gently baiting her to grab it as I swatted it against her knee.
