Page 115 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
I sit, reading silently, flipping through each page slowly. This isn’t just business. This is my life being rewritten. For her. For the child she’s carrying.
Grigori shifts. “Adrian,” he says, dropping the formal tone, “I’m your lawyer, but also your friend. So let me ask—are you absolutely sure about this? This is…a massive shift in your structure. In your power.”
I set the last page down, look up, and meet his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
He exhales through his nose and hands me the pen. I don’t hesitate. I sign on every line.
When I’m done, I slide the folder back across the table.
“It’s done,” Grigori says, voice low. “Your legacy just changed.”
“No,” I say. “It just began.”
Grigori watches me as I push the folder back across the desk.
“That’s everything,” he says. “As of today, Jennie Rusnak owns every legitimate holding under your name. Properties. Companies. Offshores. And when the child is of age, they’ll be written in as a joint heir. The clause is locked.”
I lean back in my chair, watching the way the sunlight filters through the blinds, slicing across the desk like prison bars. It’s fitting.
This isn’t a backup plan. This is surrender.
Not of power—but of legacy. Of everything I ever clawed and bled for. Handed over willingly to a woman who once looked at me like I was her captor.
Now she looks at me like I’m her home.
I nod once. “If I die, it all goes to her. She decides what happens next.”
Grigori clears his throat. “You understand what that means? If something goes wrong, if enemies smell blood—”
“I said what I said.”
His jaw tightens. “You’re not a man who’s ever trusted anyone with his empire, Adrian.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I say coldly. “Except her.”
He’s silent for a moment, then gathers the folder back into the case and clicks it shut.
“She’ll never need to know,” he offers.
“No,” I say. “She will. Just not yet.”
“Know what?”
The voice slices through the air—soft, but sharp.
I freeze. My head jerks toward the door.
Jennie stands there, barefoot, hand resting over the swell of her belly. Her brows are drawn together, lips slightly parted. There’s sleep in her eyes, but more than that, there’s worry.
Fuck.
I stand instantly. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was.” Her gaze narrows. “Then I woke up to use the bathroom and didn’t find you. I came looking….”
Grigori bows low and, without another word, slips out of the room. Coward.
Jennie’s eyes follow him out before landing on me again.
