Analise POV
"Hi beautiful,'' He smiles, helping me up. "I'm Mikhail Volkov.''
"Volkov.'' I mumble, suddenly remembering Sofia's words. The groom: Ivan Volkov.
"Are you… the groom's brother?'' I asked. While I talked, I couldn't stop staring at his eyes. They reminded me of John, of our son.
"Yes.'' He smiles. "Though I've never seen you before. Who are you?''
Oh God! His eyes. My son. "I need to go.'' I mumble, now looking down at the water I'd spilled. "I have to go to my son.''
"Of Course.'' He says, smiling easily while he steps back. He's still holding my hand. He bows slightly to kiss it. "I hope to see you again, Malyshka.''
"What did you just call me?" I asked, frowning.
"Malyshka," he said with a half-smile. "It means baby girl.''
I don't answer, I simply walk away. He was the groom's brother, that ought to mean he was a mafia prince as well. I didn't want anything to do with those people.
I turned to the hallway where I'd left Luca seated, but he's not there.
My heart drops.
Ivan's POV
"Sir, the ceremony begins in less than an hour," Viktor said from the doorway of my private living room.
I barely heard him, focused instead on the small boy seated on my sofa. I'd found him alone in the corridor, crying softly, his little suit covered in vomit. Without thinking, I'd scooped him up and brought him here.
"Almost done, little man," I said, dipping a kitchen towel in warm water. I gently wiped his forehead, feeling the slight fever there. The boy watched me with wide blue eyes—intelligent, observant eyes that seemed strangely familiar.
"What's your name?" I asked, keeping my voice soft. The boy just stared, thumb creeping toward his mouth. Shy. I smiled, remembering how Mikhail had been the same way with strangers when we were children.
I touched his forehead again, concern washing through me. "He's still warm."
Viktor shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, the bride's family is asking about your whereabouts."
"They can wait," I snapped, then softened my tone when the boy flinched. "Where is this child's mother? Did you see anyone looking for him?"
"No, sir. He was alone when you found him."
I sighed, putting the cloth down. "Find her. Now. And have the doctor come check him over."
As Viktor left, I turned back to the boy. "Let's get you out of these dirty clothes, shall we?"
With gentle hands, I helped him out of the ruined shirt and coat. The boy was quiet but cooperative, clearly used to being cared for by someone who loved him deeply.
A memory surfaced—Mikhail at four years old, having fallen into a puddle while we played. I'd helped him just like this, cleaning him up before our father could see and punish him for being careless.
"Come with me," I said, lifting the boy into my arms. His small body felt warm against my chest as I carried him upstairs, to the wing where Mikhail and I had grown up.
Our childhood bedrooms remained untouched, a museum to the innocence we'd both long since lost. Father's orders—everything preserved, from the toys to the clothes, waiting for the next generation. "This room," he'd told me countless times, "is where you'll raise your son one day."
The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, hours from a wedding to a woman I'd never met, holding someone else's child.
I set the boy down on the bed, forcing a smile. "Let's find you something to wear, little one."
He blinked up at me, and suddenly I was struck by his eyes again—that particular shade of blue, the shape of his brows.
"Your eyebrows are quite handsome," I said without thinking. "My wife—" I stopped myself, the pain still fresh after all this time. "Someone I knew once told me mine were my best feature."
The boy's lips quirked in what might have been a smile.
"If you could see this beautiful child," I murmured, thinking about Analise. I rummaged through a dresser filled with both preserved and new children's clothes. Father had ordered the maids to keep the wardrobes updated, his determination to see grandchildren never waning.
I pulled out a small button-up shirt, crisp and white, and helped the boy into it. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made for him.
"There we go. Very handsome," I said, brushing his dark hair back.
Viktor appeared at the doorway, clearing his throat. "Sir, we found the boy's mother. She's looking for him. And the ceremony should begin in exactly seven minutes."
I nodded as a maid entered behind him. "Take him to his mother," I said, reluctantly handing the boy over after pressing a kiss to his forehead.
The maid carried him away.
"Sir," Viktor said, voice dropping low. "We have a situation. Our men spotted Mikhail on the premises, speaking with a woman. We believe one of the guests may be working with him."
My jaw clenched. "My brother was always a coward. Sneaking around instead of facing me directly."
"Should we postpone the ceremony?"
"No," I order. "That's exactly what he wants. Find the woman he was speaking to, but the wedding continues as planned."
I straightened my tie, face hardening. "Mikhail knows that once I'm married, his claim to the throne disappears completely. That's why he's here—trying to sabotage me one last time."
"He showed his face and then disappeared," Viktor confirmed.
"Typical," I spat. "He won't succeed. Not today."
I checked my watch—five minutes until I needed to be at the altar. Five minutes until I married a stranger. Five minutes until I buried the last remnants of John Doe and his dreams of a normal life with the woman he loved.
I pushed thoughts of Analise away. There was no place for her in this world, in this life. And that was exactly how it needed to stay.