Page 148 of Secret Babies for the Mafia King

Alexei has decided the occasion requires him to fully brief Viktor on the current state of the train track, which now circles the east grounds completely and is, in Alexei’s assessment, ready for expansion into the west.

Viktor listens to the briefing with genuine attention. Asks two questions about the structural integrity of the bridge sections. Alexei answers both correctly and with evident satisfaction.

Somewhere between the main course and dessert, the table finds its rhythm. Svetlana and Anna are talking about the Kestrel Maritime offices, the new client they’re bringing on in February, and something about Svetlana’s spreadsheets that makes Anna laugh in a way that fills the room.

Viktor and I are talking routes and margins, not the way we used to, not with the particular tension of two men on opposite sides of an arrangement, just two people who share a business talking about running it well.

Maxim moves between conversations with an ease I haven’t seen in him before. He tops up Viktor’s wine without being asked. He tells Mila that her centerpiece is perfectly symmetrical, which is not true but makes her sit up straighter for the rest of the meal. When Alexei tries to redirect the conversation back to train infrastructure, Maxim asks a specific question that shows he was actually listening during their last conversation about it.

I watch all of this from the head of the table and say very little.

When dessert is cleared, Maxim stands and picks up his wine glass. The table goes quiet without him asking it to.

He looks around at all of us. Takes his time. When he speaks, it’s without notes and without the self-consciousness of a man performing a toast.

“Eight months ago, I sat at a dinner table in this house and behaved in a way I’m not going to detail because there are children present and because the people I wronged have been generous enough not to make me say it out loud.” He looks at Anna. Then at the twins. “I was wrong about what this was. About what it was going to be.” He glances at me briefly. “My father has a habit of building things that look like one thing and turn out to be another. I should have known better than to judge this before it was finished.”

Mila is watching him with round eyes.

“To family,” Maxim says. “The kind you’re born into and the kind that shows up in ways you didn’t plan for. And to my brother and sister.” He nods at the twins. “Who have better taste in train sets and flowers than anyone else at this table.”

Alexei looks extremely pleased by this. Mila raises her juice glass with great ceremony.

We drink.

The table breaks back into conversation. Viktor is telling Maxim something about the Riga client. Svetlana is cutting the last of the dessert for Mila, who has decided she wants more. Alexei is explaining to no one in particular why the west grounds expansion is the logical next phase.

I look at Anna. She’s sitting back slightly from the table. Her right hand is resting in her lap, fingers curved loosely over her stomach. It’s a small gesture. Unconscious maybe. The kind of thing a person does before they’ve decided to do it.

She’s looking at Mila, smiling at something Mila just said.

Then she feels my eyes and looks up.

We look at each other across the table. I don’t say anything. She doesn’t say anything. The table is full of noise and movement, and four separate conversations are happening simultaneously, and neither of us exists inside any of it for this particular moment.

Her chin lifts slightly. The way it does when she’s decided something.

Then she looks back at the table and reaches for her water glass instead of her wine.

I sit with that for a moment.

Then I pick up my own glass and look around the table at the train track and the purple centerpiece and my son explaining bridge engineering to his grandfather and my daughter stealing the last of the dessert when she thinks no one is watching.

I built an empire on taking what I wanted and holding it.

I had no idea what holding something actually meant until now.

Outside, the grounds are dark. Inside, the table is loud and warm. It’s more than enough for me.

The End.