Analise's POV
"Mama! Mama! Up!" Luca stretched his little arms toward me, his blue eyes—so like his father's—gleaming with innocence.
I scooped him up, ignoring the way my heart clenched at the sight of those eyes. Every time I looked at my son, I saw him. The man who'd walked away, leaving nothing but a note and his wedding ring behind.
"Almost ready, baby boy?" I nuzzled his soft cheek, breathing in his sweet baby scent. "Dr. Patel is excited to see how big you're getting."
Luca squealed, completely unaware of how much was riding on today's appointment. The words "progressive infantile neuronal ceroid lipofuscinosis" still haunted my nightmares. Three months ago, when the diagnosis came, my world had collapsed for the second time in my life.
"Let's get your shoes on, buddy," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.
As I strapped him into his car seat, I couldn't help but think of John. Where was he now? Did he ever think about us? Did he have any idea he had a son who was sick and needed him?
The drive to the hospital was filled with Luca's happy babbling and my forced responses. I parked in the familiar lot, steeling myself for what was to come.
…
"Ms. Keating?" Dr. Patel greeted me with a warm but concerned smile. "And there's our brave boy!"
Luca hid his face in my shoulder, suddenly shy.
"He's walking now," I said, setting him down to demonstrate. He took a few wobbly steps before plopping down on his bottom.
"That's wonderful progress," Dr. Patel said, but I could see the concern in her eyes. "The physical therapist mentioned he was having more difficulty with coordination last week."
I nodded, swallowing hard. "The medication isn't working as well as we hoped."
Before she could respond, the door opened and Sofia burst in.
"Sorry I'm late!" she exclaimed. "Traffic was a nightmare." She immediately scooped up Luca, who squealed with delight at seeing his favorite and only aunt. "There's my handsome man!"
Sofia's arrival gave me a moment to collect myself, watching as she spun my son around, his giggles filling the room.
Dr. Patel waited patiently before continuing. "I've been consulting with specialists about Luca's case. The enzyme replacement therapy is helping, but not at the rate we'd hoped."
I tensed. "What does that mean?"
"There's a new gene therapy treatment showing promising results for NCL patients, but we'd need more genetic information to determine if Luca is a candidate."
"What kind of information?"
"Ideally, we'd need his father's medical history. These conditions are often hereditary, and if he had any childhood symptoms or treatment, it could be invaluable in determining the best approach for Luca."
I felt Sofia's hand on my shoulder, comforting me.
"Ana doesn't have contact with the father," Sofia explained when I couldn't find my voice.Sofia was my best friend. I met her on the day I gave birth to my son. She was a new nurse assigned to my hospital, and she was with me throughout the birth of my child.
Dr. Patel nodded. "I understand this is difficult. But the disease is progressing faster than we anticipated. Without that information, we're shooting in the dark with treatments."
"So you're saying without his father's medical records, my son could—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
"I'm saying we'd have a much better chance of slowing the progression if we had a complete family medical history. There are other options, but they're experimental and time-consuming."
"Time we don't have," I whispered.
"Time we might not have," Dr. Patel corrected. "But we'll keep fighting, with or without that information."
Sofia handed Luca back to me. "We'll find him," she promised quietly.
After scheduling the next appointment and collecting Luca's new prescriptions, I found myself leaning against the wall outside the examination room, tears finally spilling over.
"Ana." Sofia pulled me into a hug, careful not to squish Luca between us. "You're not alone in this."
"He needs his father," I choked out. "He needs John's medical history, maybe even a donor match if the disease affects his bone marrow. And I have no idea where he is."
Sofia pulled back. "Let me help you. My dad—"
"No," I shook my head. "We've talked about this. Your father is connected to dangerous people. I don't want to pull you back into that world."
"My father may be connected to the Russian mafia, but he has resources," Sofia insisted. "If there's anyone who can find a man who disappeared without a trace, it's him."
"I can't ask you to do that."
"You're not asking. I'm offering." Sofia's eyes softened as she looked at Luca, who was now dozing against my shoulder. "That little boy needs his daddy. This isn't about you or John anymore. It's about saving Luca."
I closed my eyes, fighting against the resentment that had become my constant companion. For almost two years, I'd carried the weight of John's betrayal like a stone in my heart. I hated him for leaving, for making me do this alone. But Sofia was right. This wasn't about us anymore.
"If you can find a photo of him, my dad can track him down," Sofia said. "He's got connections everywhere."
"I don't want to owe a favor to a man like your father."
"You'd be owing me, not him. And you've already saved my life more times than I can count during those nightmare shifts when I first transferred here."
I looked down at my son. What choice did I have?
"Okay," I whispered. "I'll find a picture."
Sofia squeezed my hand. "We'll find him, Ana. I promise."
As we walked toward the exit, I wondered what I would say when I finally came face to face with the man who'd walked out on me. Would I scream? Cry? Beg him to save our son?
Ivan's POV
"None of these women mean anything to you?" Viktor asked, watching me toss aside profile after profile.
I didn't bother answering. What was there to say? That my heart belonged to a woman who probably hated me now? That I couldn't stomach the thought of an arranged marriage to secure power my brother had tried to steal?
"They're all the same," I muttered, flicking through the tablet. "Pretty faces from powerful families. Bargaining chips."
Most profiles read like resumes mixed with dating applications. Natalia Petrov, fluent in five languages, trained in ballet since age three. Katrina Orlova, runs her family's money laundering operations, enjoys horseback riding. Yelena Sokolov, widow of a capo killed in Milan, known for her loyalty and discretion.
"The council expects a decision by tonight," Viktor reminded me.
"I'm aware." My tone was sharp enough to silence him.
I continued scrolling, barely seeing the faces anymore. One was a social media influencer with millions of followers—perfect cover for our operations, her father had noted. Another was an event planner who specialized in gatherings for the elite—useful for networking, according to her profile.
Then I stopped. Something caught my eye that made my heart stutter.
Occupation: Registered Nurse.
I stared at the screen, at Sofia Andreev's details. Twenty-eight years old. Graduated from nursing school with honors.
A nurse.
My mind flooded with memories of Analise in her scrubs, the gentle way she checked patients' vitals, how her eyes lit up when she talked about helping people. The way she'd saved my life when I was nothing but a stranger with a bullet in my head.
"This one," I said, my voice suddenly hoarse. "Her."
My father, who had been quietly observing from his armchair, leaned forward with interest. I passed him the tablet, watching as he read Sofia's profile.
"Excellent choice, son," he said. "Her father is Alexei Andreev."
"The weapons dealer?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
Father nodded. "He supplies all our firearms and half our mercenaries. His connections stretch from Eastern Europe to South America." He smiled, clearly pleased with my selection. "The alliance would strengthen our position considerably."
I hadn't known who her father was when I chose her. All I'd seen was a nurse and thought of Analise. It was pathetic, really—clinging to shadows of the woman I'd left behind.
"It's settled then," Father declared, handing the tablet back to Viktor. "Tomorrow, you're marrying Miss Sofia Andreev."
"Tomorrow?" I couldn't hide my shock. "The council agreed to this quickly."
"Her father has been pushing for this match for months," Viktor explained. "The paperwork is ready. The priest is on standby."
My father's eyes softened. "I know this is sudden, Ivan. But my doctors say I don't have much time left. I want to see you properly established before..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
I stood, straightening my jacket. "Then I'll marry."
"Have the car ready in an hour," I told Viktor. "And tell our security team to prepare for a high-profile wedding."
"Already done, boss," he replied. "One more thing—our men in Italy have Mikhail's location confirmed. They're ready to move on your command."
I nodded, a cold satisfaction settling in my chest. "After the wedding. Let my brother enjoy his last night of freedom."
As Viktor left to make the arrangements, I walked to the window, staring out at the city below. Somewhere out there, Analise was living her life. Without me. Safe from the violence that followed me like a shadow.
Tonight, I would marry a woman I'd never met, take my place as the heir to the Russian underworld, and set in motion the final act of revenge against my brother.
The last piece of John—the man who'd loved Analise—would die tonight.
And Ivan Volkov would rise from his ashes.