Chapter 44: Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby: EPILOGUE

“Keep the blindfold on,” Igor says, his deep voice laced with amusement as he takes my hand to guide me forward.

“Can I at least take a peek?” I tease, already squirming with impatience.

“No,” he chuckles, wrapping his arm firmly around me and steering me down what feels like an endless corridor. “Trust me, Katya. Some moments deserve to be perfect.”

“Fine,” I huff, reluctantly giving in. “But if this involves clowns or something equally traumatizing, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

He laughs, and the sound vibrates through me, warming my chest. The anticipation builds with every step, my other senses sharpening to compensate for my lack of sight. I sense the echo of our footsteps on polished floors, the subtle but familiar cologne he always wears, and the reassuring warmth of his hand clasped around mine.

“Are we there yet?” I ask, only half-joking.

“Always so impatient,” he mutters under his breath. Suddenly we come to a stop, and I hear the sound of a door creaking open. His warm breath brushes my ear, sending goosebumps over my arms. “After you, volchitsa.”

“Good,” I mutter. “Can I look now?”

“Oh, no. Actually… wait,” he says, his voice practically buzzing with excitement.

“For God’s sake!” I groan dramatically. “Do I have to wait for another eternity before I get to open my eyes?”

He ignores my protests, and I hear the faint flick of a switch. A low hum of electricity fills the space. His fingers brush the back of my neck as he gently unties the knot of the blindfold, taking his time as though savoring the moment.

And then, finally, the fabric falls away, and my world bursts into color.

My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight before me. Gleaming wooden floors stretch out beneath my feet, leading to a reception area that feels like something out of a dream. The design is the perfect balance of modern sophistication and timeless elegance. Huge windows flood the space with natural light, giving it an open, airy feel. Abstract art pieces hang on the walls, bold and beautiful, adding character without overwhelming the space.

“No way,” I gasp, my voice trembling. My eyes land on the words engraved in gold lettering on the sleek glass sign at the reception desk: Volkov Legal Counsel.

The sheer emotion of the moment robs me of words.

“What’s all this?” I whisper, my voice shaky as tears sting the corners of my eyes.

Igor’s smirk widens, his blue eyes gleaming with pride. “It’s my way of saying how proud I am of you. For the past two years, you’ve worked harder than anyone I’ve ever known, studying day and night to get your license to practice law here. While I couldn’t help you pass the bar, this is something I could do.”

“You…” My voice breaks as I stare at him. “You got me an office?”

“Damn right, I did,” he says with a laugh. “And an assistant to work for you to get you started.”

I blink rapidly, trying to process the news. My hands tremble as I step forward, touching the sleek furniture and running my fingers over the smooth, polished wood of the reception desk. It’s real. All of it.

I turn back to him, throwing my arms around his neck in a tight hug. My words spill out in a rush. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Lowering his head, he murmurs against my ear, “There’s more.”

“More?” I pull back to look at him, my brow arching in disbelief.

“You haven’t seen your office yet,” he teases, his grin impossibly smug.

“Show me,” I demand with a laugh.

He leads me down the hall, stopping in front of a large frosted-glass door. My name is etched elegantly into the glass, and seeing it there makes my heart pound against my ribs.

This is it. This is everything I’ve dreamed of, the culmination of all the late nights, early mornings, and sacrifices I’ve made. My lips quiver, and I feel my smile falter under the weight of it all.

“Shall we?” Igor asks, his own smile warm and knowing.

He pushes the door open, and the moment I step inside, my knees almost buckle. The smell of fresh vanilla and faintly brewed coffee fills the air, and sunlight spills in through the massive windows. The centerpiece of the room is a large desk with a nameplate on top—Katya Volkova, Esq. My chest tightens, my emotions threatening to overflow.

“Surprise!”

Two small figures leap out from under the desk—Sofiya and Damien—waving their arms and giggling excitedly. Their laughter fills the room, melting my heart completely.

“You planned all this?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper as I glance back at Igor, overwhelmed by the sheer thoughtfulness of every detail.

“I wanted them to be here when I did this,” he says, reaching into his pocket.

The sight of him pulling out a small box sends my heart racing. Time slows as Igor drops to one knee, his movements deliberate, his face glowing with happiness and anticipation.

“Volchitsa,” he begins slowly, smirking.

The air seems to still, the world pausing as my legs tremble beneath me. His eyes meet mine, and in them, I see everything—his love, his devotion, his unshakable commitment.

“I cannot imagine life without you,” he says softly. “We’ve been through so much, and yet, here we are. All I want is a chance to make you as happy as you’ve made me. I want the four of us to keep building a home together, a life neither of us ever dared to dream of. Will you marry me, Katya Volkova?”

My eyes drop to the ring nestled in the velvet box. The diamond catches the light, sparkling brilliantly, but it’s not the ring itself that takes my breath away. It’s the meaning behind it, the promise of a future built on love, trust, and the life we’re building together.

“Say yes, Mommy!” Sofiya pleads, her tiny fingers pressed to her lips in excitement. “Just say it!”

Her voice rings out clear and steady, a sound that still feels like a miracle every time I hear it. Two years after her operation, her words flow with the confidence and joy of a child who’s no longer fighting to keep up with the world around her.

Tears stream freely down my cheeks as I fight a sob and fail miserably. My voice cracks as I croak, “Yes, Igor. Of course, I’ll marry you. And yes, Sofiya, I’ll say yes a million times more.”

The kids cheer, throwing their arms around me as Igor rises to his feet, slipping the ring onto my finger. His arms envelop us all, pulling us into a family embrace, and I laugh through my tears, my heart bursting with joy.

“Okay, kiddos,” Igor says with a grin. “Time to celebrate.”

They spring into action, putting on music, pouring sparkling cider for the kids and champagne for us, and dancing like there’s no tomorrow.

As the laughter and music fill the office, Igor pulls me close, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back.

“We did it,” I whisper, setting my glass down to rest my hands on his chest.

“Oh no, volchitsa,” he murmurs, his eyes shining with warmth as he leans in. “We’re just getting started.”

And as he kisses me, I know he’s right. This isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of everything we’ve ever wanted—and everything we never dared to dream.