Page 81 of The Bratva's Sextuplets
“All six of them.” Dr. Romano says that as he taps on the door and enters the bedroom suite. “They’re showing every sign of being fighters. They’re small, but strong and stubborn.”
Mikhail, Anastasia, Viktor, Natalia, Claude, and Isabella were born too early but arrived exactly when they needed to, surrounded by the medical support that will give them every chance to thrive.
“I love you.” I say to Tigran once Dr. Romano returns to the NICU room. “I love what we created together.”
“I love you too.” He kisses my forehead gently, careful not to disturb the IV lines and monitoring equipment attached to me.
As I look at the six incubators glowing in the dimming afternoon, surrounded by the medical team that will help us navigate the challenging weeks ahead, I know that every moment of pain, every month of fear, and every battle we fought was worth it to reach this moment.
EPILOGUE
Tigran
Six months ago, when I held our first child in my arms for the first time, I thought I understood what parenthood would mean. I believed it would be about protection and provision, and ensuring our children inherited power and security. I imagined myself teaching them about business and strategy, preparing them to eventually take over responsibilities I’d inherited from my father if that was what they chose.
I was wrong about all of it.
The compound that serves as our home bears no resemblance to the sterile mansion where I grew up. Instead of silence broken only by business meetings, our days are filled with the sounds of six babies who have transformed everything about how I understand family, love, and what it means to build a legacy worth leaving.
The nursery spans the entire east wing of the house, with six cribs arranged so each child can see their siblings while maintaining the individual space Dr. Kozlova recommended forhealthy development. Mikhail, our firstborn, sleeps with the focused intensity he’s shown since birth, already demonstrating the leadership qualities his name suggests. Anastasia lies beside him, beautiful and serene, occasionally making the soft sounds that indicate she’s dreaming.
Viktor occupies the crib closest to the windows, where morning light reveals features that blend Zita’s with mine. Natalia, small but fierce, has claimed the spot that allows her to observe everything happening around her with sharp awareness that suggests she’ll be formidable as she grows up.
Claude sleeps with one tiny fist curled near his face, while Isabella, our youngest, rests peacefully in the knowledge that she’s surrounded by family who will protect and love her unconditionally.
“They’re all asleep at the same time.” Zita’s voice carries amazement as she joins me in the nursery doorway. “Dr. Kozlova said this wouldn’t happen regularly until they were at least eight months old.”
“They’re exceptional children.” I watch their synchronized breathing, still amazed that these six perfect beings came from our love for each other. “Everything about them has exceeded expectations.”
“Including their parents’ ability to keep them all fed, clean, and happy simultaneously.” Zita settles beside me, and I can see the confidence she’s developed over the past months of motherhood. “I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to handle six babies at once.”
“You’ve handled it better than anyone could have imagined.” The truth carries admiration and gratitude that grow stronger each day. “You’ve become exactly the mother they needed.”
“We’ve become exactly the parents they needed.” Zita corrects gently. “I couldn’t do this without you, and you couldn’t do it without me…and we couldn’t do it without our three nannies,” she adds with a wry smile.
The partnership she describes has evolved far beyond what either of us expected when we reluctantly entered into marriage. We’ve learned to anticipate each other’s needs, to share responsibilities in ways that maximize our individual strengths, and to support each other through the exhaustion and overwhelming joy that comes with raising six children simultaneously.
“Dmitri wants to schedule a meeting about the Miami expansion.” I mention the business call that came while she was pumping milk that will be mixed with the formula we have to use to feed the babies. “The Markov family is interested in establishing formal cooperation agreements.”
“Are you interested in formal cooperation with the Markovs?” Zita’s question reflects her role as my partner, not just the mother of my children.
“I’m interested in stability and legitimate revenue streams that don’t require violence to maintain.” I’ve spent months developing business models that prioritize sustainability over short-term profits. “The Miami operation offers both.”
“Then schedule the meeting. Please make it clear we’re not interested in anything that increases security risks to our children.”
The conversation reflects how completely our priorities have shifted. Business decisions are now evaluated based on their impact on our family’s safety and stability, not just their potential for generating revenue or expanding influence.
“There’s something else.” I turn to face her fully. “I’ve been thinking about our first family vacation.”
“Vacation?” Zita’s eyebrows rise with interest and surprise.
“The private island in the Caribbean that we discussed months ago.” I pull out property documents I’ve been reviewing. “The one with the airstrip and security arrangements that would allow the children to play without bodyguards hovering over them.”
“You want to take six six-month-old babies on vacation to a private island?” Zita’s question carries amusement rather than skepticism.
“I want to give our children their first taste of the freedom we’ve been promising them.” I show her photos of beaches and villa accommodations designed for large families. “I want them to experience what it feels like to be safe and loved without constant security protocols.”
“It sounds perfect.” Zita studies the property information for a moment longer. “When were you thinking?”
