Page 33 of Fractured Empire

“Play,” Bastian corrects him softly.

“Yes, that,” his little brother agrees, nodding happily.

“I’m back,” I agree, smiling and crouching down to their level. “I’m not sure if I can play with you, though. I have to talk to your father, so we’ll have to ask him.”

“Okay,” Leo agrees, reaching out to grab my hand. “We ask.”

Bastian doesn’t reach for me like his brother does, but he walks close to us as Leo tugs me farther into the house, in search of their father. He seems to know exactly where to go, because it doesn’t take very long at all before I spot him. Apollo and Rayna are rounding up the other few candidates and leading them out of the room as we enter, while Leon and Dante speak lowly to one another in the corner.

When my future husband looks up and sees me with his children, his shoulders seem to lose some tension and he exhales noticeably.

Was he worried that I wouldn’t come back?

“Daddy, we pway with Kat?” Leo chirps the question with hope.

“I told them that we needed to talk,” I add with an awkward smile. “But I have a few hours…if you do.”

His head dips in approval. “You can play with Katya, boys. But only for a little while, okay? I need to steal her away for an adult conversation soon.”

Leo is very pleased with his father’s agreement, quickly tugging me away to show me their play room. Although I had to force my smile back into place after such a heartbreaking interaction with Chloe, being with the kids quickly turns my emotions genuine.

Just a few minutes with them is enough to assure me that I’ve made the right choice.

Chapter Fifteen

Leon

Katya entertained Leo and Bastian for almost two full hours. The boys showed her every toy they own, and she didn’t complain or look bored even once. I can’t deny that I watched them on the cameras for far longer than would ever be socially acceptable, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to make sure they were safe with her, of course. But in the back of my mind, I had no doubts that they would be.

I wanted to see them interact and bond more than anything. I wanted my instincts confirmed, to know that I made the best decision I could when selecting the woman to be a part of our lives. Katya Lukáčová seems to fit in this house perfectly.

We didn’t have much time for conversation when Leo and Bastian finally gave her up to me. But we exchanged numbers, email, and further contact information. Katya assured me that she was okay when I checked in about her fight with her friend, and thanked me for allowing her to spend time with the boys.

Thanked me for it, like it’s an honor.

When it was time for her to leave, I insisted on sending her to the airport with seven armed guards to accompany her. Her security was split when Chloe left without her, and I wouldn’t risk her safety with anything less than the best looking out for her. She blushed when I kissed the back of her hand again, and the pink color on her cheeks is still on my mind over an hour later.

In my office, I put the finishing touches on the virtual contract before sending it over to Linus Gabris. If he approves it, we’ll sign a physical copy in blood, and Katya will officially be my intended. I have to get a ring for her as soon as possible, which I’ll need to reach out to her mother for advice on. I can’t exactly ask her best friend about her taste in engagement rings, after all.

Sighing, I pull open my bottom desk drawer and start thumbing through paperwork, wondering if I still have the family jeweler’s contact information stored or if I’ll need to ask Apollo for his number. A custom piece could take weeks or months for a regular person, but our guy can typically do whatever we need in a matter of days.

A red envelope catches my eye and I frown, not remembering putting it there. Pulling it out carefully, I flip it over and see my name scrawled in white script on the front. I recognize the cursive handwriting and feel my stomach sink.

Ripping it open before I can worry about the safety of doing so, or second guess even wanting to know what’s inside, I pull out a thick bit of folded paper.

Leon,

I’m not sure how long it will take for you to find this letter, since I didn’t tell you that I would be leaving you one. I didn’t want to risk you reading it while I was alive, or too soon after I passed. I know that you’re probably angry with me, and if you find my words on paper too quickly into that anger, you might do something rash like throwing it away, or tossing the envelope into the fireplace. Still, I hope you do eventually find it.

There’s so many things that I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time.

I married you at nineteen, and we had our son before I turned twenty-one. We both know these things, and yet, even writing those words feels unbelievable. I never expected my life to turn out the way it did, and I definitely didn’t expect that I would make yours so miserable in the process.

As soon as my diagnosis was confirmed, my parents began planning. There wasn’t even a moment for them where they considered letting me out of any familial obligations. They needed me, and telling the world about my disease so that I could live in peace, unburdened by the requirement of marriage, was unthinkable. They didn’t care how many years I had left to live, only that those years were useful to them and to the criminal organization that they devoted their lives to.

I used to dream of a different reality where my mother cried during my doctor’s appointments. Where she understood the grim hand her daughter had been dealt, and where she refused to let my short life be lived in vain. She’d leave my father, and take me around the world to see everything. She’d let me do whatever I wanted. Eat whatever I wanted because it didn’t matter if I put on a few pounds. I wouldn’t have to be poked and prodded and manicured weekly so that I was perfect to the public eye. I wouldn’t have to have a husband, so it wouldn’t matter how I looked in our society.

Life was better in that reality, but it was just a dream. My mother didn’t cry about my diagnosis and it didn’t devastate her that I would die young. It angered her. It was an issue she had to deal with. An obstacle in her grand plan to use me for the one thing she was raised to think girls were good for, forging alliances through marriage. And making babies to cement those alliances even further. She didn’t care about me, and I think that’s when I decided not to care about me either.