Page 95 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

“Why don’t you go to NICU with the babies, Mr. Rostova, and I’ll finish here with Claire and get her into the recovery room?” says Dr. Leven.

At Claire’s nod of agreement, I follow the procession of incubators out but stop at the waiting room to speak to Linda and Robert.

“How are they?” asks Linda. “How is Claire?”

I quickly relay what I know, conscious of the babies getting farther away. I know where they’re heading, but it makes me nervous to have them out of my sight.

Robert clears his throat, shifting awkwardly. “Congratulations, Valerian. You must be proud.”

I nod, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Our relationship has been strained, to say the least, but right now, we’re unitedby our love for Claire and the babies. “Thank you, Robert. I am... more than I can express.”

Linda’s eyes brim with tears. “Tell us about them, Valerian. What do they look like?”

I describe our children in detail—Natalia’s shock of dark hair, Simone’s delicate features, Nikolai’s strong grip, and Andrew’s alert eyes. With each word, the tension in Linda and Robert’s faces eases, replaced by joy and wonder.

As I speak, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it, focusing on this moment with my family. Whatever it is, it can wait. Right now, nothing is more important. After hugs and promises to return with Claire’s favorite pajamas and some home-cooked food, Linda and Robert leave. I check in with the babies in the NICU until a nurse notifies me about an hour later that Claire is back in her room after recovery.

I return and settle into the chair beside Claire’s bed, taking her hand once more. I tell her about the babies again, though they didn’t do much during the hour I watched them. She’s yawning and clearly not fully ready for conversation. “Sleep,lyubov moya.”

Claire’s eyes flutter closed, and there’s a small smile on her lips. As her breathing evens out, I allow myself a moment of vulnerability. Tears prick at my eyes when I think of our children, so small and fragile, fighting for their lives in the NICU.

I’ve faced down rival crime bosses, navigated treacherous business deals, and survived attempts on my life. Yet nothing has ever terrified me as much as the thought of failing these four tiny humans, who now depend on me.

My phone buzzes again, more insistently this time. With a sigh, I pull it out, careful not to disturb Claire. It’s a message from Dmitri:“News about Petrov Synd. Call when you can.”

I glance at Claire’s sleeping form, torn between my duty to my family and the responsibilities of my other life. For now, family comes first. I silence my phone and settle back in the chair, prepared to stand guard over the woman I love and our newborn children for as long as necessary.

The steady rhythm of Claire’s breathing and the distant beep of monitors lull me into a state of calm alertness.

Hours pass, marked only by the occasional nurse checking Claire’s vitals and the occasional buzz of my silenced phone. My phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with another message from Dmitri. I glance at it and Claire, who is still sleeping. With a sigh, I pick up the device and read the text:

“FBI finished arresting last of Petrov’s men. All will be charged by DOJ thanks to Lev’s information. First trials, including Bruno’s, are still scheduled for next week. Sneaky lawyers might try to get more time, but eventually, they’ll all be in prison.”

Relief washes over me, but it’s fleeting. The world I’ve known for so long feels distant now, overshadowed by the tiny lives in the NICU. I type out a quick response:

“Good. I’m turning off my phone. Don’t contact me unless it’s an emergency.”

I power down the device and slip it into my pocket, returning my attention to Claire. She sleeps peacefully, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The harsh hospital lighting softensthe lines of fatigue on her face, making her look younger and more vulnerable.

I lean forward, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. Her skin is warm beneath my fingertips. For a moment, I’m overwhelmed by the depth of my feelings for this woman, who has changed my life so profoundly.

The quiet beep of monitors and the occasional squeak of rubber-soled shoes in the hallway create a soothing backdrop. I allow myself to relax, taking in the sight of Claire at rest. Her lips curve slightly, as if she’s dreaming of something pleasant. I wonder if she’s thinking of our children, imagining the life we’ll build together.

After a while, restlessness sets in. I stand, stretching muscles stiff from hours of sitting. My gaze lingers on Claire for a moment longer before I make my way out of the room and toward the NICU.

The hospital corridors are a maze of identical hallways, but I navigate them with purpose. I pause outside the door to their private NICU room, occupied by all four. With a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside. Despite having already visited, the sight of our tiny, fragile children hooked up to various machines unsettles me.

I approach the first incubator, where Natalia lies. Her tiny chest rises and falls rapidly, and her skin is still tinged with a faint bluish hue. I place my hand on the clear plastic, wishing I could touch her, hold her close, and protect her from the world. “Hello,malyshka,” I whisper. “Papa’s here.”

Moving to the next incubator, I find Simone. She’s the smallest of our children, but her grip on life is fierce. Even now, her tinyfists are clenched as if she’s ready to fight whatever challenges come her way. “You’re a fighter, just like your mama,” I tell her, my voice low and filled with pride.

Kolya and Andrew occupy the last two incubators. Kolya sleeps peacefully, his face a miniature version of Claire’s. Andrew, who has an identical face, is awake, his gaze seemingly focused on me despite the nurses’ assurances that he can’t see clearly yet.

I pull up a chair, positioning myself so I can see all four of our children. The reality of fatherhood hits me anew as I sit there, surrounded by beeping monitors and the soft whoosh of ventilators.

“I never thought I’d be here,” I say to them quietly. “I never thought I’d have a family of my own, but your mama changed everything.”

I lean closer to Andrew’s incubator, watching as his tiny fingers flex and curl. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of,” I whisper. “Things I hope you’ll never have to know about, but I promise you, all of you, that I’ll do whatever it takes to give you a better life.”

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