Page 62 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

“Really,” Maxym confirms, his hand finding mine, a tangible promise. “We’ll figure it out, together.”

Viktor steps forward, his intensity matching Maxym’s. “We’ve all made sacrifices and endured hardships for this life. But you... you showed us a different path. A chance at something more than just bloodshed and power. We can’t let you slip away.”

Ivan’s usually stoic expression softens, his eyes reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and longing. “You’re not just a surrogate to us, Sofia. You’re so much more.”

Their words stir something deep within me, resonating with parts of myself I had long buried beneath layers of strength and resilience. The pull between us becomes undeniable,magnetic, as I realize that this moment is not just about our daughter; it’s about us as well.

The moment of revelation, surrounded by the three men who’ve become my world and holding the little girl who’s changed everything, is heavy with emotion. But leave it to Viktor to break the tension with his impeccable timing.

“So, does this mean I’m officially off diaper duty?” Viktor asks, wiggling his eyebrows as if he’s just dodged the world’s biggest bullet.

I can’t help but snort, the absurdity of his concern in the midst of our heartfelt moment cutting through the last of my tears. “In your dreams, Viktor. You’re up first for diaper training.”

Maxym chuckles, shifting our daughter in his arms with a natural ease that makes my heart swell even more. “I was thinking more along the lines of a rotation of duties. Fair’s fair, after all.”

Ivan, who’s been the quiet strength through all this, nods solemnly. “I’ll draft the schedule. Early mornings for Viktor, I think.”

Viktor throws his hands up in mock surrender. “I see how it is. Gang up on the handsome one.”

The laughter that bubbles up from my chest is light, freeing, a release of all the tension and fear that had built up. Here, in this room, with these men and our daughter, I find a happiness so profound, it’s almost overwhelming.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I manage between laughs, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Diaper duties, early mornings, and all.”

Maxym leans in, kissing the top of my head with a tenderness which sends a new wave of tears spilling down my cheeks—this time, tears of pure joy. “We’re in this together. Every diaper change, every sleepless night, every moment.”

“Our little girl’s got the best team,” Ivan adds, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

“And the sassiest mom,” Viktor chimes in, earning him a playful glare from me.

“And don’t forget the most overprotective dads,” I retort, still riding the wave of laughter. “She won’t be able to date until she’s, what, thirty?”

Maxym nods solemnly, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “At least. And only after a thorough background check.”

Viktor leans in, conspiratorially. “We’ll need to start training her early. Teach her how to deal with the less desirable types.”

“You mean, teach her to fend off guys like you?” I shoot back, unable to resist the jab.

Viktor pretends to clutch his heart. “Wounded, Sofia. Deeply wounded.”

Ivan, always the voice of reason, or so he likes to think, adds, “We’ll also need to ensure she’s well-versed in self-defense. And maybe a little hacking. For safety.”

“Great, our daughter’s going to be a hacker-spy with overbearing dads. Just what every little girl dreams of,” I say, the sarcasm thick in my voice, though I’m secretly delighted at the thought of our daughter being so fiercely loved and protected.

Maxym’s expression softens as he looks down at our daughter, then back at me. “She’ll be whatever she wants to be. And we’ll support her every step of the way.”

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. It’s a promise, a vow from all of us, to our daughter, to each other.

“Speaking of steps,” Viktor suddenly says, breaking the silence, “when do we start teaching her about the family business? I think five is a good age to start negotiations training.”

Ivan actually snorts, shaking his head. “Let’s at least get her to kindergarten first, Viktor.”

The mood lightens again, and as I look around at these men — her fathers — I feel a surge of affection for them, for this life we’re building. It’s messy, it’s unconventional, but it’s ours. And it’s filled with love.

“As long as one of those steps includes teaching her how to throw a proper punch,” I add, only half-joking. “You know, for when she finally does start dating.”

Maxym laughs, a deep, genuine sound that fills the room. “We’ve got it all covered. From punches to programming, she’ll be ready for anything.”

“We’ve been so caught up, we haven’t even discussed her name,” I say, the realization dawning on me.

---