Page 66 of Perfect Stalker

“There’s more,” I say, handing him the small, leather-bound album.

Ivan opens it, his expression changing from curiosity to shock. The pages are filled with photographs of a young Ivan, sometimes brooding or sad, and sometimes, smiling and carefree. In each one, he wears the small locket he later gave to me. “How did you...?” he trails off, his fingers tracing the images.

“Marcus helped me gather the information. I wanted you to have a piece of your past.”

He flips through the pages, his usual stoic demeanor softening even more. The room fills with a nostalgic air as he shares some of the memories the images clearly bring to the forefront.

He pauses to stare at the picture of him at two, sitting on the stairs while holding the locket. The picture on the opposite page is one Marcus’s contact tracked down of a younger Eugenie Markov, about fifteen, in a school uniform. There appear to be no surviving pictures of him with his mother, which saddens me.

“I’ve never seen her picture before.” He traces his finger over the contours of her face, and their resemblance is striking. “I wish I remembered her.” There’s a wistful note to his voice.

I put my arm through his and give him a side hug. “I can see why the locket means so much to you, and I’m glad you have some kind of connection with her.”

His eyes mist for a moment, but then he grins, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “It didn’t have a tracking device back then,” he teases, but I can still see the depth of emotion in his eyes.

I laugh softly, relieved by his reaction. “No, just a lot of love and care.”

Ivan closes the album and pulls me close, enveloping me in his strong arms. “Thank you,” he murmurs into my hair. “This means more than I can express in any language.”

We stand there for a moment, basking in the warmth of our embrace. Then he pulls back slightly, his gaze intense.

“I’m looking forward to being a father,” he says gently. “To having our family and being part of a family.”

My heart soars at his words. “I feel the same way,” I say after coughing to clear the lump in my throat. “We’re going to be amazing parents.”

Ivan’s lips curve into a rare, genuine smile. He leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s both tender and passionate. It’s a perfect moment, and the perfect way to end our first Christmas Eve together.

EPILOGUE

IVAN - TWO YEAR LATER

Two years later, I sit in our living room, surrounded by the warm glow of Christmas lights and the joyous laughter of my family and a few friends. The scene before me is one I never imagined possible just a few years ago. Jenny cradles our son, Luca, in her arms, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she listens to her parents recount stories from her childhood.

“Remember when Jenny was five and decided she wanted to be a ballerina?” asks Mabel with a chuckle. “She practiced for weeks, twirling around the house in her little tutu.”

Jacob nods, grinning. “And then on the day of her first recital, she froze on stage and refused to move until we came to get her.”

Jenny’s cheeks flush a delightful shade of pink. “Dad! I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”

I smile at her embarrassment. It’s moments like these that remind me how far we’ve come, and how much our lives have changed.

Luca squirms in Jenny’s arms, his chubby hands reaching out toward the twinkling lights on our Christmas tree. At fifteen months old, he’s a perfect blend of Jenny and me—my dark hair and her warm brown eyes—but very much his own little person already.

“Here, let me take him,” I offer, standing up and crossing the room. Jenny passes Luca to me, and I settle back into my seat with our son on my lap.

Mabel leans forward, eyes twinkling. “Ivan, we’ve shared plenty of Jenny’s childhood stories. What about you? Any embarrassing moments from your youth?”

The question catches me off-guard. My childhood is not something I often discuss, filled as it was with darkness and struggle, but looking at the expectant faces around me, I realize this is my family now. They deserve to know all of me, except the truth about theBratva. I won’t ever tell my in-laws about that for their safety.

I adjust Luca on my lap, “I didn’t have many opportunities for embarrassing moments as a child, but there was this one time at the orphanage...”

Jenny flashes me a smile, silently offering her support.

“I was about eight years old. There was this older boy, Nikolai, who always picked on the younger kids. One day, I decided I’d had enough. I challenged him to a fight behind the building after lights out.”

Jacob arches a shaggy brow. “And did you win?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Not even close. Nikolai was twice my size. He knocked me down with one punch, but I got back up. Again and again. I think I surprised him with my stubbornness.”

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