Page 104 of Vendetta Crown

At the mention of the word "baby," a strange feeling washes over me.

Tamara doesn't know.

She doesn't know I'm carrying twins.

The realization comes with an unexpected twist of sadness that catches me off guard. Why should I care what Tamara knows about my pregnancy? This woman who orchestrated her own son's murder, who worked with my stalker, who would have sacrificed her daughters for power—why should her ignorance about my twins matter to me at all?

But it does.

Maybe it's because in this moment, with her daughters circled around her, Tamara looks more like a mother than the cold, calculating bratva princess I've come to know. The mask has slipped, revealing something almost human beneath.

Or maybe it's because I understand now, in a way I couldn't before, how motherhood changes everything. These twins growing inside me have already transformed how I see the world. They've made me more vulnerable, yet somehow stronger too.

I rest my hand on my belly, feeling that familiar flutter of movement inside.

"Twins," I correct her quietly. "We're having twins."

Tamara's perfect composure breaks for just a moment—a flash of genuine surprise crossing her face. "Twins," she repeats, and her gaze drops to my belly. Something shifts in her expression—a shadow of what might be regret.

"A boy and a girl," I add, not entirely sure why I'm sharing this with her. "Andrei and Nadia."

She nods slowly, and for just a second, I catch a glimpse of the young girl she must have been once, before the bratva world twisted her into the woman standing before me.

"Twins are a blessing," she says softly. "They will never be alone."

I feel Ruslan's hand tighten around mine, and I know he's thinking the same thing I am. In another life, maybe Tamara could have been different. Maybe we all could have been.

She reaches into her designer bag and pulls out a small package wrapped in cream-colored linen. "For you, Aurora."

My fingers tremble slightly as I accept it. The wrapping falls away to reveal a baby blanket, impossibly soft and slightly faded, embroidered with the Dragunov family crest.

"This belonged to Mikhail," Tamara says quietly. "It offered me comfort during those sleepless nights when he first came into this world. A reminder that I wasn't alone."

I stroke the delicate fabric, feeling the weight of its history.

"I was never a good mother," she says softly, her voice steady despite the admission. "Not the way my children deserved. You'll be different, Aurora. I can see that already."

Her gaze shifts to Ruslan, something ancient and resigned in her eyes.

"All these years, I prayed to God that you would save me, Ruslan." Her voice quivers. "But it's clear now that you were always meant to save someone else."

Ruslan doesn't answer, but I feel the subtle shift in his posture, neither accepting nor denying her words.

Tamara's attention returns to me, then to my growing belly. "I need to speak with you both. Privately."

27

RUSLAN

I walka step behind Aurora and to her right, keeping myself positioned between her and Tamara. The baby shower chatter fades behind us as we make our way toward my office.

Aurora's hand brushes against mine, silently reassuring me that she's okay.

I can't help but notice how her other hand is shielding her belly protectively. Her natural instinct to protect our children mirrors my own to protect her.

"Could you at least pretend not to despise me, Ruslan Vitalyevich?" Tamara's voice breaks the silence.

But for the first time in my life, I don't hear her familiar breathy tone designed to make men lean closer.

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