Page 88 of Possessive Vows

She stomps her foot and runs to Camilla.

Camilla catches her with a grimace and sits in a chair at the table.

After a few minutes of holding her and calming her down, Camilla says, “Baby, he doesn’t want to keep your doll. He just wants to clean it.”

Zoya shakes her head and buries her face in the stuffed animal. Camilla blinks and tilts her head, studying our daughter for a moment before her eyes light.

“I want to show you something, Zoya. It’s in my bathroom,” she says.

I trail after them as they join hands and head to the master. When Camilla pulls the box the facility sent the rest of her belongings to us in from the bottom of the linen closet, confusion swirls through me. She digs through until she finds what she’s looking for.

The perfume bottle looks familiar.

She holds it up for Zoya to inspect.

“Your mama used to wear this, didn’t she? Here, try it,” she says.

She pulls off the cap and spritzes a bit in the air beside Zoya. My three-year-old leans into the scent and cries so hard tears stream down her face and drool leaks out around her thumb.

Camilla gathers her to her chest and coos words of comfort.

My heart breaks anew as I feel the depths of my daughter’s misery. At a loss, I rub my chest for a moment before dropping and wrapping my arms around them both.

Artur hovers in the doorway a moment before shuffling inside. He extends his hand, revealing a photo of Anastasia before she fell ill.

“You can have this one, Zoya. I brought a few more. I miss Mama a lot, too,” he mumbles.

Zoya blinks at the photo but doesn’t take it.

Anastasia was sick for so long. Does she remember what her mother looked like before all the hospital visits?

When her pudgy hand reaches out and pulls it closer to her face, recognition lights her eyes. She squeaks into her thumb and presses the photo to her chest.

Artur pats her head and makes way for Maksim’s exuberance.

“That’s why you never let us wash your stuffed animal; you didn’t want Mama’s scent to fade. But look, Mama Camilla has the same perfume. It must be fate! Let’s spray some now and after we wash it,” my second born exclaims.

With a plan in place, Zoya relaxes and nods her head.

One day, she’ll feel secure enough to remove her thumb from her mouth, but I will show her the same patience and respect I have for my wife—who revealed to me how poorly I treated my children.

After Camilla spritzes the doll a few times, the boys lead Zoya out of the room, eager to walk their sister through washing the stuffed animal and showing her the other photos they have of their birth mother.

I help Camilla to her feet and cup her chin.

“You’re brilliant,moya zhena. I don’t know how we survived without you,” I say.

Her lip trembles.

“I don’t know how I did either. You brought light back into my life, Dimitri. I love you. I love them,” she says.

“You already had the light within you,so´lnyshka, you just needed someone to shine it onto,” I murmur.

Her breath catches.

I kiss her with the awe and devotion overflowing my soul.

Maksim’s laughter peals through the house. I pull back with reluctance and rub my thumb over her cheek. Her scars reawaken the vicious satisfaction I felt when I buried my bullets in my brother’s brain.

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