Page 118 of Crowned

Except forBabulya. I must callBabulyawhen we get home, and update her on the baby and her two great-grandchildren. I miss her so much.

At home, Elyah makes pancakes for our daughters while he coaches me in Russian. It’s a fair swap because my Russian is improving and so is Elyah’s cooking.

Konstantin has a meeting with a real estate developer and Kirill is training some of the new men they’ve hired. Security. Drivers. Financial advisors. No matter who they are, men or women, Kirill puts them through their paces because they have to be strong to work for my husbands.

I call them my husbands even though we are not legally married, and they call me their wife. We’re a family, all of us.

“It is also how I tell if they are trustworthy or not,” Kirill told me once. “If they cut corners doing laps or push-ups, they are out. I don’t want them around you and my daughters.”

Kirill has inflexible rules about who is allowed to cross the threshold of our home, and he enforces all of them.

When Mila was born, I’ve never seen such wonder on Kirill’s face. It’s like he almost couldn’t believe she was real.

“Do you remember the day we killed your father?” he murmured one afternoon, gazing at his sleeping daughter.

My stomach lurched, because what a strange thing to bring up when you are holding your newborn. “Of course. I’ll never forget that day.”

“We made you think terrible things. That we were going to take your baby from you and hand you over to your father.”

I think back to that moment. Most of the time, I remember Dad’s hateful words and the triumph on his face when he thought he had won. But now, I remember something else. Kirill grabbing hold of my arm as I started panicking.

“You didn’t want to do it,” I said softly, realizing what that touch meant now. He was thinking of me and the baby. He was thinking of Katya too, and how she screamed for help and no one listened.

“It was what we had to do,detka. But I dream about it sometimes, and Katya is there too, gazing at me like I am a monster.”

I bent down, swept his curls aside and kissed his brow. “She forgives you. I forgive you.”

I’ve been able to open up to Olivia and Beatrix just about everything in my life and they have never judged me. Olivia was already a kind person and Beatrix understands why someone would love dangerous men. Either I go to them or we meet somewhere for lunch, and though they haven’t met my husbands, they always welcome my daughters.

What surprised me over our last lunch was that Olivia dropped hints about wanting to meet Konstantin, Elyah, and Kirill again, so perhaps one day we will all get together.

When I stopped breastfeeding Mila and we started trying for a third baby, Kirill constantly wound Elyah up with stories about sneaking into my room and trying to get me pregnant. Announcing that he was sure he had been the one to have sex with me during my fertile window. That the next baby would definitely be his. To his credit, Elyah didn’t punch him in the face once.

The truth was, Kirill actually stepped aside every time for Elyah and would always finish on my belly or in his hand.

“Give Elyah a baby. The big fucking softie wants one so badly,” he whispered once in the dark before going back to his own bed.

As if I had any say about it. My body would do as it pleased.

Baby Number Three is born on a stormy fall afternoon with rain lashing the windows. I have another home birth because I’m lucky to have uncomplicated births and swift labors.

We know right away that it’s Elyah’s. All of us but Elyah, apparently. He’s the first to hold her, after me.

“I do not care if she is mine. I love her. Look at her, she is perfect.”

Kirill takes one look at the baby in Elyah’s arms and bursts out laughing. “How can you not know? Elyah, she looks exactly like you.”

“Do you really think so?”

Konstantin moves to Elyah’s side. “Oh, yes. Those are Morozov genes. Look her eyes. Look at her chin.”

Elyah cradles our baby’s head in his hand, the wedding ring I designed for him glinting on his finger.

“Little baby,” he murmurs, gazing at her. “Solnyshko, did you have a name in mind for our daughter?”

“What were you thinking, Elyah?”

He thinks for a moment. “What about Kira? I think she looks like Kira.”

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