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“Santos,” Eset’s tone comes out in a warning as she begins walking through the place, but this condo isn’t the only surprise I have for her. I have so many, and she’s going to have her mind blown when she sees everything.
“Go down the hall, and open the door all the way on the left,” I urge her, and she does as I say while I push Meryem’s stroller.
Eset opens the door and gasps from pure shock. “How did you… when did you do all of this?” she asks as she turns around to face me. I’ve just reached the doorway, and she’s in awe of her art studio—all the canvases, the organizational system I had installed for her paints, and so much more.
“I’ve had some time to think over the last few days, and Amelia and Emily have helped me bring everything to fruition… but I have one more massive surprise for you. Go over to your work desk and open the drawer.” This is the one thing I think Eset is going to be through the roof about.
She goes over to her work desk and opens the drawer, pulling out a manilla folder. She opens the folder up and pulls out a thick stack of paperwork. I watch her facial expression as she reads what I’ve done. She’s never said this to me, but I know her dream is her art. She’s only so heavily involved in her family’s crime business because that’s the only option, and I’m not saying she can’t do both by any means. What I’m suggesting is that she fulfill both her dream and her obligation.
“You bought an art gallery for me in London?” Eset tears her eyes away from the paperwork.
“Yes, and there’s a café attached which brings in a good amount of business. You’re going to have your own designated space for your art, and then you can have three or four guest artists if you’d like. That’s what the previous owner has done through the years, but it’s yours now, so you can do whatever you’d like.”
“Santos, I… I don’t know what in the world I’m supposed to say to this. I’m… I’m rendered speechless, honestly.”
I figured she’d be shocked by what I’d done.
“Just tell me this, does it make you happy?”
“Yes, of course. It blows my mind. Thank you so much. This is the best gift anyone could’ve ever given me,” Eset mutters, covering her mouth with her hand. She’s fighting back the tears, and it’s obvious to me. I push Meryem’s stroller into her mother’s home studio and walk up to my wife. Snaking my arms around her waist, I pull her flush against me.
“I hope you know there’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.”
Epilogue
Eset
Three Months Later
My life has completely changed since I met Santos, and not in one negative way. He’s changed my life for the better and has taught me so much about living in the moment and taking time for myself. Before Santos, I would work all the time. I was so methodical. I was thinking about what I could be doing to further my family’s cause or prove that I was this badass woman. I think I spent so much time trying not to appear inferior that maybe I even began to lose myself a little bit.
I’ve been painting a lot more and reconnecting more with the person I was before my mother betrayed us. I didn’t know it until very recently, but my mother had betrayed us all before she ever destroyed my art studio in my ancestral home. We just didn’t know it until very recently.
Speaking of her, she’s gone in the wind. Our best guess is that someone said something to her, and she knows we’re aware of what she was trying to do. Prominent Chechen families have either stopped speaking to us completely or are coming to us, letting us know that their loyalty has never wavered. I think some of the people coming to us were backing our mother’s claim. However, now that we know about what people were trying to do, they know we’re extremely dangerous. It would’ve been ideal for them to take us by surprise, picking us off one by one, but now that won’t be possible.
We’ve gotten rid of anyone who worked for my family before, and Alejandro Ramirez gave us all new security teams that can be trusted. In hindsight, Santos pledging allegiance to his uncle was the smartest thing he could’ve ever done. If he hadn’t, I don’t know that we could’ve found trustworthy security so quickly.
When it comes to everything else, things have settled down for the most part. Julio finally ended up discovering his only son was loyal to his great-uncle, and now his claim is nothing more than a feeble, desperate attempt at power. He might have a few people in his corner, but they’re not anyone who could completely reshape the hierarchy in Mexico. When Julio discovered that Santos did that, he accused my husband of killing Lu himself, but little does Julio know I’m the one who took his whore’s life. One day I’m sure I’ll end up telling him face to face, but I’m going to save that for a very special time.
We’ve been living in our new condominium, and things couldn’t have been better. I spend at least two hours a day in my art studio, and I’ve already shipped some pieces off to my gallery in London. Santos failed to tell me there’s already an experienced staff that works there and who is quite familiar with the client base, local artists, and essentially everything about the gallery. My first show will debut in two weeks, and we’ll be flying out for that. My goal is to have different pieces floating in and out of the gallery every two or three months. I want to change as much as the guest artists in my gallery.
“Eset, are we going to be late, or are we going to be on time?” Santos asks me as he comes into the doorway of our ensuite bathroom.
I’m applying the last bit of bronzer on my face, so I stop, turning to look at my husband. “The real question is, is our daughter still asleep?”
Santos shakes his head. “No, she woke up a couple of minutes ago. I already got her changed, and I’m going to wait before we feed her since we’re supposed to be upstairs for dinner anyway.”
“Okay, sounds good. I just need to get changed, and then we can head upstairs,” I tell Santos, and he nods.
“Okay, don’t be too long.” Santos leaves the doorway, and I rise from the custom vanity Santos had made for me.
With one glance in the mirror, I realize how much I do look like my father—Khaso Umarova.
The DNA tests took longer than expected, but my mind was completely blown when we got the results back. I knew there was a possibility—or I should say I figured there was a possibility based on what Goran said—but I kept wondering if he was just lying to me. I was fucked in the mind with half of the shit he said, but everything Goran told me while I was in that cottage in the Czech Republic has turned out to be the truth.
Nazyr hasn’t been handling the news too well, and I don’t know why. Neither of us really bonded with the man we thought was our father, but maybe things were different for him since he’s a man and I’m a woman. My father didn’t want to be around me too much, honestly, unless he was discussing the things I’d do for our family. Essentially, he was reminding me about the sacrifices I’d be forced to make.
I head into my massive closet, pick out a flowing green dress, and then slide on a pair of gold heels. I find a gold necklace and earrings that will really tie together my look and walk out to where Santos is. He’s already waiting for me in the living room and has Meryem pulled up into his arms. When we travel short distances, we don’t bother with the stroller because sometimes it just becomes too much.
