Chapter 45

Chapter

Forty-Five

"The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times."

― Paulo Coelho

Alexsei

I threw my jacket onto the couch and headed straight for the fridge to grab a beer. I chugged half of it down before putting it back and washing my hands.

Fuck, I hate going to NYC. The jet lag always wrecks me and messes up my damn routine. I haven't slept well in days, barely had a decent meal, and the city noise outside is driving me nuts. Sirens and honking everywhere—it's like the city's trying to make me lose my mind.

Thank God I'm finally back home. After that last call with Caia, where she sounded completely wiped out, I knew I had to be here for her. Valeria texted me just before I boarded, saying Caia's grandmother had passed away while I was gone.

My heart broke for her, but I knew she must've felt some relief knowing her babushka was at peace, watching over her from above. I'll handle things with Angelo and Scarlett from here. When Caia needs me, nothing else matters. She's always been my priority and always will be—certainly not some freak trying to ditch an international superstar because he can't have her.

So, I hopped on a flight back just two hours after that call. But goddamn, enduring a 10-hour flight with some dude snoring in front of me like an alarm clock made it impossible to sleep. What's the point of first class if I can't even get a bit of fucking rest?

I sighed and rushed to the guest room to shower and change into a simple pair of black boxers. Quietly opening our bedroom door, I saw only the soft glow of our son's koala night light on the bedside table.

I shut the door gently behind me, tiptoed to the bed, and saw Caia sound asleep with Lukyan snuggled up beside her, his tiny mouth slightly open. Relief washed over me seeing them both peaceful and glowing in the dim light. I slipped into bed, let Lukyan stand between us, and wrapped my arm around Caia's waist, feeling whole again.

Hours later, the warm sun rays woke me up. Groaning and stretching my sore body, I opened my eyes expecting to see the bed still occupied, but it was empty. I grabbed my phone and checked the time—it was already late afternoon.

Fuck, I'd slept for over 12 hours straight.

Disoriented, I threw off the covers and stumbled to the bathroom. But as I stood there pissing, a sense of unease crept over me. Something felt off.

The house was too quiet. Normally, Caia's laughter would echo as she chased Lukyan, scolding him gently for messing with her plants. And Lukyan's giggles and cries would fill every corner of the place. I didn't realize how much I missed those sounds until they were gone.

Cursing softly, I went back to our bedroom to grab my phone, wondering what the hell was going on. It felt weird without the usual morning chaos. With my phone in hand, I rushed back to the living room, my heart pounding with worry.

Shuffling into the living room in just my boxers, I scanned the room for any sign of them. Then, I spotted a small piece of paper on the table. With a mix of dread and curiosity, I snatched it up, unfolding it quickly to reveal Caia's familiar handwriting.

Good morning, sleepyhead!

You were just too precious snoozing away, so I couldn't bear to disturb you.

Valeria needed a hand with something, so we're off on an adventure with her today.

If you need anything, text me.

PS: Thank you for coming back to me safe and sound earlier than expected. 3

I let out a deep sigh of relief, letting the small white paper drop back onto the table as I slumped back onto the couch .

I'd never felt that kind of anxiety before meeting Caia, and it only got worse the moment I heard our little boy's first high-pitched cry when he was born. I remember cutting his umbilical cord, still attached to his mama, with shaky hands, terrified I'd hurt either of them.

The next day, Caia laid him on my bare chest. His tiny heartbeat against mine, her hand gently stroking my hair, and my heart felt like it was going to explode. Right then, I knew I'd do anything to protect and cherish them both.

Nobody warned me how love could turn your world upside down. Everyday feels like my heart and lungs are out there roaming around—one with emerald eyes, the other with my own blue ones. Living with pieces of myself out there makes me feel like a mess, like I'm only whole when they're near.

They're my rock and my weakness all at once.

Finally, I've got the family haven I only dreamed about as a kid—when I'd watch my mother drag herself off to sell herself just to put food on the table while my useless father drowned his sorrows in booze.

Valeria called me the day before I flew from NYC to Moscow, her voice heavy with sadness as she told me my father had died. At first, I couldn't get why she was so upset. Shouldn't his death be a celebration?

But then I remembered she'd only met him briefly years ago when I dumped him at her door, barely coherent and sick as hell. I never thought he'd hang on for almost eight years. Most people with throat cancer don't last that long. But death seemed to be dragging its feet on him.

I arranged for him to be sent to the morgue for cremation. He doesn't deserve a proper funeral. His soul will carry the weight of the torment he put me and my poor mama through for years.

I've never mentioned him to Caia. Whenever she asks about my past, I dodge the topic of my family. I refuse to let the shadows of my past taint our present.

Changing my name from Rovanski to Romaniev years ago was my way of burying my old self and all the shit I went through. I hated revisiting a time I fought so hard to forget.

When I found out he'd finally died, it felt like a heavy, invisible weight was lifted off my shoulders—a burden I didn't even realize was choking me. I was finally, completely, and totally free from that bastard.

What a fucking relief.

"How's New York?"

I shrugged, lighting up a cigarette and tossing him his lighter. "Scarlett went and offed one of her groupies. Now Angelo's convinced she's got a target on her back, like someone's gunning for her."

I was munching on caramel cookie cereal, my laptop open on the kitchen table, sifting through our dead groupie's phone calls and messages. Turns out he'd dialed some number saved as ‘S.H.K' a ridiculous 24 times in the last month. What the hell was that about?

The texts were all cryptic numbers, which struck me as odd. I dug deeper, tracked down the number, found out who it belonged to, and where they lived. Sent all that shit to Angelo before getting ready to head over to the Manor.

Volk lit his cigarette. "Didn't know the superstar had that in her."

"Scar's got more fight than she lets on," I said, my voice low.

And it was true. After all, she was a Harper. Their family's legacy was built on wealth and scandal. Betrayal, lies, and death were like their daily bread.

"I heard your little wife paid a visit to Mankiev's office the other day," Volk said casually, stubbing out his cigarette and patting one of his dogs, which had taken over the couch and carpet, leaving me standing.

My blood turned to ice. "When?"

"Two days ago," Volk said, almost offhand. "Igor saw her leaving just before he went in."

My chest burned. Caia had promised me last year she'd never see that piece of shit again. I made it clear he was erased from our lives. Maybe I should've taken care of him myself.

"Fucking Mankiev," I spat, extinguishing my cigarette with finality. "I'm gonna cut his dick off and sew it to his mouth."

"Bit drastic," Volk chuckled, shrugging. "Should've dealt with him ages ago. Knew marriage would soften you up."

"Trust me," I snapped, heading for the door. "There's nothing soft about me."

Driving home, my mind was a storm. The closer I got, the angrier I became, my rage heating me up from head to toe. It wasn't just anger; it was the sting of betrayal from my own wife.

If Caia had asked me to see him, I'd have said no. But if it meant that much to her, I might have agreed to go with her, to protect her from whatever mess Mankiev might bring. Knowing she'd lied to me and seen him behind my back set ablaze in me that burned all reason away.

I parked the car and headed to the elevator, hands clammy, chest tight. With each step, I fought to steady my breath, determined not to let my anger control me.

Unlocking the door, I was hit by the comforting scent of cinnamon and the strains of Mozart's "Lacrimosa" from the vinyl player. I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my jacket, and took my time unwinding.

Dropping my keys onto the small shelf, I saw a framed photo of us, taken just days after Lukyan came home from the hospital. He was so tiny, barely able to open his eyes, but his presence filled us with indescribable joy.

Following the melody to the living room, I found Caia in the open kitchen, taking a cinnamon and apple cake out of the oven. She wore a black silk pajama set that hugged her slender frame, her chestnut hair falling in waves.

Startled by my clearing of the throat, she turned around, her expression shifting from contemplation to surprise. "You're here! I've been waiting for you," she said, a radiant smile lighting up her face as she rushed over to me.

She set aside her kitchen glove and enveloped me in a tight embrace, her hands circling my waist. My arms stayed stiff at my sides, and I felt Caia tense as she looked up at me, confusion clouding her eyes. I gently pulled away, heading to the fridge for a cold-water bottle. I downed it in three quick swallows before tossing the empty bottle into the trash.

"Alexsei? What's wrong?" Caia's voice was soft, laced with concern as she watched me slump onto the couch.

"I don't know, Caia. You tell me."

Her brow furrowed, and she followed me to the couch, sitting across from me, legs crossed, hands clasped, her body betraying a slight tremor. "Alexsei?—"

"What did you do while I was in New York?" I cut her off, my voice sharp with apprehension and hope. I wanted to see if she'd lie or be honest without me prying.

"Nothing special," she said slowly, her gaze flicking over my face before dropping to her hands.

I hummed in response, disappointment washing over me. Sinking back into the couch, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. "Wrong answer."

"I don't understand—" Caia started, her voice tinged with confusion.

I abruptly stood up, needing space to think. I made my way to our bedroom, careful not to disturb Lukyan in the next room. Caia followed, her steps almost silent on the floorboards. I started unbuttoning my shirt slowly, feeling her eyes on me. She hesitated, then sat on the edge of the bed, confusion and shame crossing her features.

She cleared her throat. "Alexsei, what's going on? Why are you acting like this?"

I paused, fingers hovering over the next button. "Disrespecting me is one thing, but now you want to lie to me too?" I spat, pain and anger thick in my voice. "Do you think I'm that fucking stupid? How could you see your father behind my back? Is that what you want? To go back to him so he can treat you like shit again? Is that what you fucking miss?"

The words spilled out, laced with betrayal. I tore off my shirt and tank top, seething, barely able to see straight. I stormed into the bathroom and splashed my face with icy water.

As the water dripped off my face, I gripped the sink, my head bowed in frustration and anguish. The sound of Caia's hesitant footsteps echoed in the bathroom.

"Why did you go?" I asked, voice cutting through the tense silence.

Caia's reflection wavered in the glass, her expression a mix of sorrow and regret. "I… I didn't think," she murmured, barely audible.

I released my grip on the sink, turning to face her fully. A bitter laugh escaped me. "You didn't think? "

"He's been harassing me for a year, Alexsei," Caia confessed, her voice trembling with emotion as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Texting me, calling me, even threatening Valeria. I tried to ignore him, but then he went to see my grandma. He's never done that before, and I know he was threatening me through her too."

Fuck, I hated seeing her like this. Her tears, the little whimpers, each one tearing at my heart. I couldn't stand her pain, her sadness.

Yet something kept me rooted to the spot. Deep down, I knew why. The fact she hadn't told me for a whole year broke my heart. The lack of trust shattered the foundation of our relationship. I thought we were each other's everything, but I guess I was wrong.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, guilt thick in her voice.

"Sorry isn't enough," I said, voice cold. "You broke my trust, Caia. I don't know if I can forgive you."

I don't trust many people. The Silas world taught me a harsh truth—people are like rats, sneaking around, waiting to tear you down. They revel in your suffering, their laughter a sinister echo as they rip you apart. Once trust is broken, it leaves a void that can never be filled.

Slowly, I took off my belt and socks, letting my pants drop to the floor and placing them in the laundry basket.

"What does he want?"

Caia hesitated before whispering, "He wants to meet Lukyan."

My blood boiled. "What?" I exploded, rage filling the room. "He'll never see my son as long as I'm fucking alive, do you hear me? Never!"

Caia stood, fear and urgency in her eyes. "Alexsei, I swear," she pleaded, voice trembling but determined. "I told him the same thing. I made it clear he'll never see Lukyan. He better be out of our lives for good. I don't want him anywhere near us. I promise."

Her words offered a glimmer of reassurance amid the storm of my rage. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Despite my anger, I didn't want to hurt her more than she was already hurting.

"You better mean it, Caia," I warned, voice edged with anger but softened by her sincerity. "Because if he ever comes near us again, I won't hesitate to kill him this time."