The flight back to Russia was silent. Not from lack of things to say—but because the words didn't know where to start.
Lily sat beside Damian, her hand resting over Mikhail's tiny jacket on the seat between them. They had retrieved him immediately after Kevin's arrest, whisked him from a safe house Anton had hidden him in. He was asleep now, his small face peaceful in the hush of the private jet.
Lily kept glancing at her son. Her son. The word still didn't feel real, though the ache in her chest told her it was.
Everything was different now.
Kevin Moretti had been arrested for attempted murder, criminal conspiracy, and decades of mafia-related violence. But his influence was vast. It would take more than a single night to bring his empire crumbling down.
And John—John Keller—was no longer the man she thought he was. He had kidnapped her at birth. Lied to her. Raised her on stolen love. But even in the betrayal, he had been the only father she had ever known.
She didn't know how to grieve him. Or if she even could.
She turned to Damian, who hadn't spoken since they boarded the plane. His eyes stared blankly out the window, jaw tight, expression unreadable.
"Talk to me," she said softly.
He didn't look at her. "What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Something."
He finally turned, his dark eyes haunted. "I should've never brought you into my world."
"You didn't. I walked into it."
"No. You ran into it," he said bitterly. "You ran from Kevin. From John. Straight to me. And I should've sent you away."
"Would you have let me go?"
His gaze dropped to her lips, her face, her heart. "No."
Silence again. Heavy with truth.
Lily sighed and leaned her head back. "Do you remember the night we met?"
He nodded. "You walked into my club like you owned it."
"And you were in the back office, brooding with a glass of vodka."
"I thought you were a spy."
She smiled faintly. "I was just a girl with a fake ID and too much anger in her veins."
"I knew the moment I looked at you," he said, voice low. "You weren't meant for that life. But I kept you anyway. Because I'm a selfish bastard."
Lily's heart squeezed. "But you gave me Mikhail."
Damian's eyes flicked to the boy. "And he's the only good thing I've ever done."
She reached over, taking his hand. "Not the only one."
For the first time in hours, his fingers closed around hers.
---
Back at the mansion in Moscow, everything had changed.
Guards lined the halls. Windows were reinforced. Rumors buzzed about the Moretti empire collapsing and the Bratva preparing for retaliation. But for Lily, the real war was happening in her heart.
She spent days walking the halls with Mikhail. The boy followed her like a duckling, big eyes watching her every move.
"Do you remember me?" she whispered to him one night as he lay on her lap in the nursery.
He blinked sleepily, then reached for her necklace—the tiny fox pendant Damian had given her long ago.
"Lisichka," he mumbled.
Lily gasped. "What did you say?"
"Lisichka," he repeated, snuggling closer.
It was what Damian called her. Little fox.
Tears welled in her eyes. Her arms wrapped tightly around her son, and she cried—for the lost years, for the pieces of herself still missing, for the woman she used to be.
Damian watched from the doorway, silent.
---
Days turned into weeks.
The press covered Kevin's fall with a hunger that turned blood into headlines. Court dates were scheduled. Witnesses flipped. Kevin tried to send messages from prison, but Anton intercepted them all.
Lily, meanwhile, started remembering.
Not all at once. But in flashes.
The warmth of Damian's arms on stormy nights. The sound of Mikhail's laugh. The look in her eyes the first time she saw her wedding dress.
And also—the pain.
The night she tried to leave. Driving through the rain. The fear that Damian had killed John. The fight they had—violent, raw, filled with venom and heartbreak.
"You were shaking when you left," Damian said one evening, standing in the kitchen while she brewed tea. "I tried to stop you. You wouldn't listen."
"I thought you'd murdered my father."
"I know."
"And I still don't know if I ever forgave you for what you almost did."
He looked at her then. Vulnerable. "Do you now?"
Lily swallowed. "I don't know. But I'm starting to remember the man I fell in love with. And he's not a killer."
A pause.
Then he said, "But he is dangerous."
She met his eyes. "So am I."
---
One night, Mikhail asleep between them, Damian sat up in bed.
"I want to show you something," he said.
He led her to his office. Behind a false wall was a hidden room filled with folders, photos, surveillance feeds. Every file bore her name.
"What is this?"
"My war room," he said. "Every piece of intelligence I've gathered on Kevin. On John. Even on you. I was trying to find your real parents. Long before we married."
Lily's breath caught. "Why?"
"Because you always told me you felt… out of place. Like your childhood never fit. I started looking after the second time you cried in your sleep calling someone 'Elena.'"
"That's my mother's name."
"I know."
Lily turned to him. "You knew. And you never told me?"
"I couldn't. Not until I was sure. And by the time I found out, it was too late. Kevin had already made his move."
She stared at him, heart aching. "You were protecting me. Even from the truth."
He stepped closer. "Always."
Then his hand came to her face. "You're not the same girl I married. But I love you more now."
Her breath caught.
"Damian…"
"Say you'll stay," he whispered. "Not because of Mikhail. Not because of the danger. But because you want to."
She looked at him.
At the man who had destroyed kingdoms for her.
At the boy in the next room who bore their eyes.
At the woman she was becoming—stronger, smarter, unafraid.
"I'll stay," she said. "But not as your shadow. As your equal."
He smiled slowly. "Then let's rebuild. Together."
And this time, when he kissed her, she remembered.
Everything.
---