Chapter 46

46

NIKOLAI

A month has passed, and I've kept my distance from Gwen. I want to say it is not intentional, but I know it is. I can't seem to bring myself to be near her, not without feeling the weight of everything she's hidden from me—the twins, my own children. The betrayal gnaws at me every time I look at her, even when her eyes pulse with apologies. I just can't seem to do it.

Gwen keeps trying to talk to me, but if it is not about the twins or her recovery, I shut down the conversation. I don't know how to tell the mother of my child that her secrets have broken a part of me I don't think can recover.

Instead, I focus on Mia and Gio. My interactions with them are easier, simpler. They don't ask why I'm avoiding their mother. They don't understand the storm that's been brewing inside me since I found out the truth. But it's there, burning in my chest, simmering every time I catch a glimpse of Gwen's tired eyes watching me from across the room .

Every night, I hear the soft padding of Mia's feet as she sneaks into my study, asking me to tuck her into bed, and every night, I rush to their sides, thinking it will make up for all the nights I wasn't home for. She tells me about her day, about the games she played with her brother, and Gio gives me one fun fact about primates every night from his studies. The kid is a mini genius, and Mia's voice is filled with innocent joy. I can't help but let the knot in my chest tighten when I think about all the years I've missed, all the memories Gwen kept from me.

I don't know if I can forgive her.

"The DNA results are in." Nadia's voice slices through my office, and I jerk my head up from the unsigned paperwork on my desk to see her and Aleksandr staring at me.

"And?" I clear my throat, leaning back in my leather chair.

Nadia strolls over, tossing the results on top of my paperwork and slumping into the chair across from mine. "We waited for you to open it."

Aleksandr's eyes flicker to the balcony and then back to me. "When did you get a garden?"

I look out the double doors. With the Yakuza on our ass, Sho being a demanding prisoner, the Italian coming to collect on their favors, getting to know the kids and my avoidance of Gwen, I didn't notice the garden.

I shrug. "I don't know."

"Gwen did that." Nadia yawns. "It was a surprise she started before the kidnapping. She finished it a week ago."

I pull a switchblade out of my top desk drawer and fling it open as I grab the DNA test. "How do you know that?"

"I talk to her. Speaking of which, when are you going to talk to her?"

I swallow, sliding the knife across the top of the letter.

"You're dragging this out," she says, her voice low but pointed.

"I'm not ready," I finally mutter, shimming the letter out of the envelope.

Nadia scoffs. "You're never going to be ready. You think you're punishing her by avoiding her? All you're doing is making things worse—for you, for her, for the kids."

I crush the letter in my hand, my eyes shooting to hers, my voice hard. "She kept my children from me."

Nadia doesn't flinch. "She was on the run, Nik, and then she finds out her baby daddy is a fucking mafia leader. She was doing what was best for her and the kids."

I suck my teeth. "I could have kept them safe!"

"Oh really?" Aleksandr scoffs. "You think being with a man like you would have been safer for them? Did you keep her safe, or was she not just missing for three weeks?"

I don't respond immediately, just stare down at the white paper in my hands. His words slice me open, and I feel like I am an open wound, bleeding out until nothing is left. I grit my teeth, flipping open the DNA letter. "That's not the point."

"Isn't it?" Nadia leans closer, her eyes boring into mine. "You're angry, and you have every right to be. But if you're going to be mad at her, at least understand why she did what she did. You think being with you doesn't come with its own dangers? You think she doesn't regret every moment you missed? "

I don't want to admit that she's right, but Nadia's voice rings painfully in my ears. I bite my inner cheek, reading over the results. "Congratulations, Boris is your father," I bark, tossing the paper across my desk and exiting out of the sliding glass doors where the garden lays.

As I step out onto the balcony, the cool air hits my face, but it does nothing to temper the fire burning inside me. The garden sprawls out below, neat rows of flowers—roses, tulips, and god knows what else. I barely register the colors or the scents, just the idea that it's there because of her . The weight of everything Nadia and Aleksandr said presses down on my chest, and I grip the railing so hard my knuckles turn white.

The DNA results had confirmed what I already knew. Boris is Aleksandr's and Nadia's father, just not mine. It doesn't make any difference, not really. Nadia swore no matter the results she would not kill me for the crown of the mafia. Aleksandr laughed it off, so who knows what he will do now.

I breathe out sharply, trying to escape the storm of rage churning inside me. It's impossible to focus on anything but Gwen—her face, her lies, her secrets. The garden she meticulously planted feels like an insult, too serene compared to the chaos she left inside me.

Nadia's words echo in my mind: She was on the run, Nik. She found out her baby daddy is a mafia leader. It's never that simple. Gwen hid my children from me for years, denying me the chance to be their father. How can I just let that go? How can I forgive her for the moments she stole from me?

Aleksandr's voice cuts through my thoughts like a blade. "You think being with you would have been safer?"

I hate that he's right. Being with me never promised safety. Boris killed our mother, and danger has followed me ever since. I've always known that anyone close to me becomes a target, but that doesn't excuse Gwen's actions. She should have trusted me.

I stare at the tulips—bright pinks, cool blues, and vibrant oranges, the same colors my mother loved. Somehow, Gwen discovered the exact shades from when my mother ran Johanna's, calling it Vivi's. The thought of her planting them for me, while I've been keeping my distance, fills me with a hollow ache. It's guilt buried under too much anger to process.

I feel like a fool standing here in this garden she created for me. Then I notice the roses, a stark contrast. I bend down, my fingers brushing the thorny petals.

Nadia approaches, her voice soft. "Gwen planted those for her nana."

"What do you mean she planted them for Nana Rose?" I ask, confusion lacing my voice.

Nadia's gaze is heavy with sadness. "I mean she died two months ago."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Gwen never told me. I didn't even know her nana was gone. Guilt washes over me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me. While I've been consumed by anger, Gwen has been grieving, burying the only family she had left.

"She didn't get to bury her properly," Nadia continues, her voice tight. "She missed the identification window at the police station in DC. She spent the last two weeks finishing this garden instead."

I struggle to breathe, the weight of it all pressing down on me .

Aleksandr steps closer, his tone grave. "Mason killed her a couple of weeks prior to force Gwen back to DC."

My chest burns with fury. I want to tear Mason apart for what he did—killing Nana Rose and robbing Gwen of her last family. I would have killed him sooner if I'd known.

I slam my fist against the railing, the sharp pain grounding me. "Damn it," I mutter. "He killed her. He took everything from her. I should have?—"

Aleksandr cuts me off, his voice firm, "You couldn't have known, Nik. We only found out recently."

I want to scream, to break something, to release the frustration consuming me. The weight of everything—Gwen's struggles, the years I missed—crushes me. She's been grieving, planting these flowers in memory of her nana while I've been lost in my own betrayal. The worst part is, I'm unsure if I can support her now. I don't know if I can let go of my anger enough to be there for her.

Nadia's hand rests on my shoulder. "You're angry, and you have every right to be. But if you're going to be mad at her, at least understand why she did what she did."

I clench my jaw, trying to push away her words, but they linger, piercing through me. I do understand, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't erase the years she took from me.

"She didn't know how to tell you," Nadia says softly. "She was overwhelmed, trying to protect herself and your kids."

"She doesn't know how to tell me anything," I growl, frustration edging my voice. "How am I supposed to protect her when she hides everything from me? "

"She didn't even tell her friends, Nik. She didn't know how to tell anyone. That's why she sent them home, and asked for security," Nadia whispers.

I swallow. Gwen had sent Kelsey and David back to DC with four armed guards she begged Nadia to ask me for. Taylor, being the legal rising star in New York, refused and said it would be bad for his image, but a couple of my guys tail him from time to time. I didn't know why she sent everyone home so quickly and was too angry to ask. I guess she didn't want anyone to see her like this, but that doesn't excuse anything. Gwen is going to be my wife one day. I want to see her at her best, worst, and everything in between.

Aleksandr and Nadia fall into a tense silence, their eyes still burning my skin.

I look at the garden again—the yellow roses, the tulips. It all feels like a desperate attempt to fix something that can't be fixed. Gwen is trying to make things right, but I've only pushed her away.

I breathe deeply, trying to steady myself. My mind races between anger and the deep sense of loss I've been avoiding. Part of me wants to go back inside, find Gwen, and demand answers. But what good would that do? I already know why she did it, but that doesn't heal the wounds.

My eyes drift back to the garden one last time. It's a beautiful creation born from her grief, just like Gwen.

Swallowing hard, I turn away, feeling suffocated by guilt. I look closer at the tulips next to the roses, the same shade of yellow that used to fill the walls of Vivi's. A lump forms in my throat, and the heaviness in my chest tightens. How much have I missed? How much have I pushed away in my anger? The image of Gwen planting these flowers for her nana and for me, while I kept my distance, twists my stomach painfully.

Determined, I head into the house, my steps quick and resolute. I find Mia's bedroom door slightly ajar and pause, listening to Gwen's soft voice as she sits on the bed, parting Mia's hair and humming. My heart stutters at the sight.

"Gwen," I say, my voice rougher than I intend. She looks up, surprised, her hands freezing in Mia's hair. Mia turns and gives me a sleepy smile, but I barely notice.

"Can we go for a ride?"