Page 174 of Hard Knot

"Is this really the time?" Anastasia asks tightly.

Mikhail shrugs, completely unrepentant.

"They learn now or at wedding with all guests around. Pick your poison, my love."

She groans but doesn't argue, which seems to be a common dynamic between them.

"Let me understand this," Holmes says carefully. "You used a surrogate, but Elizabeth is still biologically yours?" He nods to Mikhail.

"Da," Mikhail confirms. "My DNA, surrogate mother's egg. Was best friend of family – very kind woman. Knew she would give good genes."

"So I'm not..." Elizabeth starts, then stops, looking between her parents with new understanding dawning in her eyes.

"You are my daughter," Mikhail says firmly. "Only difference is where you grew. Not who you are."

I watch Elizabeth carefully, expecting tears or at least some sign of emotional distress, but her reaction surprises me.

She simply shrugs, a slight smile playing at her lips.

"Well," she says, taking a sip of her water, "at least I still got your stubbornness and need for high standards, Dad. Otherwise, I would have been screwed."

"That's my girl!" Mikhail beams proudly. "Though ability to adapt is from me too." He glances at his wife. "Anastasia hates adapting to shit."

"Yes," Anastasia admits with a slight huff, "I like the comfortability of stability. Nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing at all," Mikhail agrees, his expression softening as he looks at his wife. "Is why I'm here to be stability you need in this wasteful life." He winks. "Just with money."

She shakes her head, but I can see the tension leaving her shoulders. Elizabeth, too, seems almost relieved, like a weight has been lifted now that the truth is out in the open.

"I knew the truth would come out eventually," Elizabeth says, fiddling with her napkin. "It's part of why I kept my distance. But..." She pauses, considering her next words carefully. "I do have a soft spot for Marissa, actually. I see myself in her sometimes – a woman who wishes to be wanted but is missing functions to make her perfectly wanted by many."

"Ah, my love," Mikhail interrupts, turning to Anastasia with surprising gentleness. "You speak of perfect, but let me tell you something about my wife." He takes her hand, and the gesture is so tender it makes the rest of us feel like we're intruding on a private moment.

"This woman," he continues, "she may not have given birth to our daughter, but she has given everything else. Her heart, her time, her dedication to our family. And I never sought perfection." He looks around the table, his expression serious. "No man or Alpha does. What we strive for is woman who will be there when we rise but also when we fall. For the way shestrives for stability in life, is what man strives for in woman he will commit to for rest of his years."

The words settle over the table like a blessing.

I catch Elizabeth smiling softly at her parents, approval clear in her expression.

Looking at them now – this unconventional family with their complicated history – I understand something I hadn't before. It's not about biological connections or meeting society's standards of perfection. It's about choosing each other, again and again, despite the complications and imperfections.

Mikhail may be a crazy Russian businessman who tests his daughter's suitors with elaborate assassination attempts, and Anastasia might struggle with adapting to change, but there's real love here.

Not just between them, but for Elizabeth too, regardless of how she came into their lives.

The way Elizabeth accepts this revelation – with grace and understanding rather than drama– speaks volumes about her character. She's not devastated by learning she's not biologically related to Anastasia because she's secure in knowing that family is about more than blood.

I think about my own family, about the expectations and pressures that come with the Morrison name. How different would things be if we focused more on supporting each other's growth rather than demanding perfection?

"You're thinking too loud," Carter mutters beside me, and I realize I've been staring contemplatively at my plate.

"Just appreciating the moment," I reply quietly.

He nods, understanding in his eyes.

"Pretty good family dinner, considering the death threats and revelations."

"Speaking of," Felix chimes in softly, "anyone want to take bets on whether Marissa's actually on the phone, or if she's climbing out a window somewhere?"

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