I have let him believe he won the shipment ambush for those critical hours. Then I cut off every escape route. The revenge is complete.
But as I hold Anja in my arms, feeling the gentle curve of her stomach where our child moves, I allow myself to feel the full weight of what I truly want.
Revenge against Fadir is the spark. It drove every calculated move, every late-night session, every public appearance where I kept Anja within arm's reach for the cameras. But it stopped being the only reason months ago.
I pull her even closer, one hand cradling the curve of her belly while the other strokes slowly down her back.
“This,” I say quietly, voice rough with everything I was saying. “You, the baby, the life we’re building… it has become far more important than destroying one pathetic enemy.”
She lifts her head, eyes shining with unshed tears. There is understanding there, and something deeper, a trust that has grown slowly through every shared strategy session, every quiet dinner, every moment I chose to protect rather than possess.
“I know,” she nods, a small, emotional smile touching her lips.
I stop short of saying the full truth out loud. There are still loose ends. Fadir is broken, but not yet erased. Her safety and our child’s have to come first. The words “I love you” hover on my tongue, but I hold them back.
Not tonight. Not while the final cleanup is still unfolding. She deserves to hear them when there are no more dangers left.
Instead, I kiss her forehead, then her lips—slow, deliberate, full of everything I can’t yet voice.
“Come on,” I say softly. “Let’s go home.”
We drive the short distance across the compound to our private wing in charged silence. The night air is cool through the cracked window, carrying the scent of the gardens. Anja’s hand rests on my thigh the entire way, a quiet anchor. When we pull up, I help her out of the car, my arm staying around her waist as we walk inside.
The war with Fadir is ending.
But as I watch her move through our rooms, one hand still occasionally drifting to her belly, a soft smile on her face when she catches me looking. I realize the real battle is only beginning.
The battle for our future.
The battle for Anja’s complete trust.
The battle to prove to her, every single day, that choosing this life, and choosing me, is not another cage, but the safest place she will ever know.
“It’s really over?” She turns to me in the bedroom, the soft lamp light catching the curve of her cheek and the gentle swell of her stomach.
“Almost,” I answer honestly. “A few loose ends. But he’s finished. He can’t touch you. He can’t touch us. He has nothing.”
She steps into my arms again, resting her head against my chest. I hold her there, one hand splayed protectively over our child, feeling another soft kick against my palm.
For the first time in months, the weight on my shoulders feels lighter. Not because the revenge is complete, but because of what I have gained in the process. This woman, this child, and our future matter more than any empire I can destroy.
The war is ending.
Our life together is just beginning.
And I will spend every day proving to Anja that she is worth far more than the troubles she ran from.
That she is worth everything.
Chapter 23 - Anja
I am curled up in the oversized armchair in my bedroom suite, a thick paperback open on my lap, when Alexey’s call comes through.
The suite feels like a sanctuary tonight with its soft cream walls warmed by the glow of a single reading lamp, heavy silk drapes drawn against the night, and the faint scent of lavender from the fresh flowers on the nightstand.
My growing belly makes it harder to find a comfortable position, but I have managed to wedge a pillow behind my back and another under my knees. The baby is active tonight, with small twitches and kicks, constantly reminding me that our world is expanding in ways I still can’t fully grasp.
When my phone lights up with Alexey’s name, I answer immediately.
