Page 35 of Secret Bratva Twins

His calmness only infuriates me further. My children are clinging to me, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in my mind, and Serge acts like he holds all the cards. Maybe he does.

“Come on, kids,” I say, my voice softer now as I pull them to their feet. “Let’s sit down for a bit.”

They nod, eager and trusting, as I lead them to the couch. Serge watches, his gaze unreadable, before turning to Roman. A brief, silent exchange passes between them before Serge steps out of the room, leaving me with my children and a thousand unanswered questions.

Serge leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes softening slightly as they rest on Alyssa. She’s chattering happily, oblivious to the tension in the room. When she glances up at him with her bright, trusting smile, something shifts in his expression. It’s not the usual smirk or cold amusement. It’s… genuine. A real, unguarded smile.

It catches me off guard, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if he’s capable of something other than crueltyand calculated control. Then he straightens, his focus flicking between the twins before settling on me.

“Now that I’ve found you,” he says, his voice calm but carrying an unmissable edge of authority, “we can live as one happy family.”

His words are like a slap, and I can’t stop the dry laugh that escapes me. “Happy?” I scoff, standing from the couch, shielding the twins instinctively. “You think this is going to be happy? That’s hilarious, Serge. Absolutely hilarious.”

Alyssa looks up at me, confused by the sharpness in my tone. “Mommy?”

I take a steadying breath, crouching down to meet her gaze. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Why don’t you and Leo go play in the other room for a bit? I need to talk to—” My words falter, the termyour fathersticking in my throat. “—Serge.”

Alyssa hesitates, but Leo tugs on her hand, leading her toward the adjacent room. “Come on, Aly,” he says, his tone bright but tentative. “Let’s see what’s in there.”

Once the door closes behind them, the room falls into a tense silence. Serge doesn’t move, his gaze locked on mine, unreadable as ever.

“Do you honestly think,” I say, my voice low and trembling with anger, “that you can walk in here, uproot our lives, and call it a happy family? You’re delusional.”

“I think,” he replies, his tone calm and infuriatingly even, “that they deserve to know their father. To live with the security and privilege they’re entitled to.”

“Security?” I laugh again, the sound bitter. “You think dragging them into your world of crime and bloodshed is secure? You’re out of your mind.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t lash out like I expect. Instead, he steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. “What’s out of my mind is the fact that you kept them from me. My own children. You don’t get to lecture me about what’s right or wrong when you stole four years of their lives from me.”

“I stole their lives?” I step forward, meeting his glare with one of my own. “Iprotectedthem. From you. From your family. From everything you represent.”

“Except,” he says, his voice dropping dangerously low, “here they are. Right where they belong. With me.”

His calm, unflinching confidence is maddening. “You don’t know the first thing about what they need. You can’t just barge into their lives and expect—”

“I can,” he interrupts, his voice sharp. “I will. You had your time to run, Chiara. It’s over.”

My fists clench at my sides, the frustration boiling over. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re stubborn,” he counters, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Maybe that’s why this works.”

“Works?” I echo, incredulous. “This doesn’t work. This is a disaster.”

“Disaster or not,” he says, his tone softening slightly, “it’s reality now. I’m here. They’re mine, and you’re not taking them anywhere.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The tension is palpable, a mix of anger, fear, and something else entirely—something I refuse to name. Finally, I exhale, forcing myself to stay calm.

“What do you want from me, Serge?” I ask quietly. “What’s your endgame here?”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as they search mine. “What I want,” he says, his voice steady, “is simple. I want my children in my life. I want them to have the best of everything. Whether you like it or not, that includes me.”

“And me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk returns, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “You, Chiara, are a bonus.”

I shake my head, biting back the retort on the tip of my tongue. Before I can say more, the door to the other room creaks open, and Alyssa peeks out, clutching a stuffed animal to her chest.

“Mommy?” she says hesitantly. “Are you mad?”

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