Page 95 of Bratva King's Secret Twins

“You’re dragging this out,” she says, her voice low but pointed.

“I’m not ready,” I finally mutter, shimming the letter out of the envelope.

Nadia scoffs. “You’re never going to be ready. You think you’re punishing her by avoiding her? All you’re doing is making things worse—for you, for her, for the kids.”

I crush the letter in my hand, my eyes shooting to hers, my voice hard. “She kept my children from me.”

Nadia doesn’t flinch. “She was on the run, Nik, and then she finds out her baby daddy is a fucking mafia leader. She was doing what was best for her and the kids.”

I suck my teeth. “I could have kept them safe!”

“Oh really?” Aleksandr scoffs. “You think being with a man like you would have been safer for them? Did you keep her safe, or was she not just missing for three weeks?”

I don’t respond immediately, just stare down at the white paper in my hands. His words slice me open, and I feel like I am an open wound, bleeding out until nothing is left. I grit my teeth, flipping open the DNA letter. “That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?” Nadia leans closer, her eyes boring into mine. “You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But if you’re going to be mad at her, at least understand why she did what she did. You think being with you doesn’t come with its own dangers? You think she doesn’t regret every moment you missed?”

I don’t want to admit that she’s right, but Nadia’s voice rings painfully in my ears. I bite my inner cheek, reading over the results. “Congratulations, Boris is your father,” I bark, tossing the paper across my desk and exiting out of the sliding glass doors where the garden lays.

As I step out onto the balcony, the cool air hits my face, but it does nothing to temper the fire burning inside me. The garden sprawls out below, neat rows of flowers—roses, tulips, and god knows what else. I barely register the colors or the scents, just the idea that it’s there because ofher. The weight of everything Nadia and Aleksandr said presses down on my chest, and I grip the railing so hard my knuckles turn white.

The DNA results had confirmed what I already knew. Boris is Aleksandr’s and Nadia’s father, just not mine. It doesn’t make any difference, not really. Nadia swore no matter the results she would not kill me for the crown of the mafia. Aleksandr laughed it off, so who knows what he will do now.

I breathe out sharply, trying to escape the storm of rage churning inside me. It’s impossible to focus on anything but Gwen—her face, her lies, her secrets. The garden she meticulously planted feels like an insult, too serene compared to the chaos she left inside me.

Nadia’s words echo in my mind:She was on the run, Nik. She found out her baby daddy is a mafia leader.It’s never that simple. Gwen hid my children from me for years, denying me the chance to be their father. How can I just let that go? How can I forgive her for the moments she stole from me?

Aleksandr’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a blade. “You think being with you would have been safer?”

I hate that he’s right. Being with me never promised safety. Boris killed our mother, and danger has followed me eversince. I’ve always known that anyone close to me becomes a target, but that doesn’t excuse Gwen’s actions. She should have trusted me.

I stare at the tulips—bright pinks, cool blues, and vibrant oranges, the same colors my mother loved. Somehow, Gwen discovered the exact shades from when my mother ran Johanna’s, calling it Vivi’s. The thought of her planting them for me, while I’ve been keeping my distance, fills me with a hollow ache. It’s guilt buried under too much anger to process.

I feel like a fool standing here in this garden she created for me. Then I notice the roses, a stark contrast. I bend down, my fingers brushing the thorny petals.

Nadia approaches, her voice soft. “Gwen planted those for her nana.”

“What do you mean she planted them for Nana Rose?” I ask, confusion lacing my voice.

Nadia’s gaze is heavy with sadness. “I mean she died two months ago.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Gwen never told me. I didn’t even know her nana was gone. Guilt washes over me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me. While I’ve been consumed by anger, Gwen has been grieving, burying the only family she had left.

“She didn’t get to bury her properly,” Nadia continues, her voice tight. “She missed the identification window at the police station in DC. She spent the last two weeks finishing this garden instead.”

I struggle to breathe, the weight of it all pressing down on me.

Aleksandr steps closer, his tone grave. “Mason killed her a couple of weeks prior to force Gwen back to DC.”

My chest burns with fury. I want to tear Mason apart for what he did—killing Nana Rose and robbing Gwen of her last family. I would have killed him sooner if I’d known.

I slam my fist against the railing, the sharp pain grounding me. “Damn it,” I mutter. “He killed her. He took everything from her. I should have?—”

Aleksandr cuts me off, his voice firm, “You couldn’t have known, Nik. We only found out recently.”

I want to scream, to break something, to release the frustration consuming me. The weight of everything—Gwen’s struggles, the years I missed—crushes me. She’s been grieving, planting these flowers in memory of her nana while I’ve been lost in my own betrayal. The worst part is, I’m unsure if I can support her now. I don’t know if I can let go of my anger enough to be there for her.

Nadia’s hand rests on my shoulder. “You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But if you’re going to be mad at her, at least understand why she did what she did.”

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