Page 152 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"You read five parenting books."

"Books aren't this fucking small."

The nurse showed me how to support her head and neck. These hands had held guns, snapped bones. Hovering over a baby shorter than my forearm, I didn't know what strength even meant.

They placed Tanya in my arms. She was terrifyingly light.

Her tiny hand slipped out of the blanket and curled around my index finger. My breath stopped, full stop.

"Hey, Tanya," I murmured. "I'm Dad."

I bent and kissed her forehead.

She gripped my finger tighter.

The first month after we got home, nobody in the manor slept through the night. Tanya woke every two hours, her cries carrying down the whole hallway.

"You've got a meeting tomorrow." Late at night, Elena sat up in bed nursing her, shadows under her eyes.

"Canceled."

"You canceled yesterday too."

"Feodor handled it."

"You never used to hand off route meetings to anyone."

"I didn't have Tanya before."

I set our full, sleepy daughter into the bassinet, then leaned down and kissed Elena. Her hand slid up my shoulder, her breathing quickening against my mouth.

A soft little hmph came from the bassinet.

We both froze.

Elena buried her face in the pillow, laughing without a sound.

"She did that on purpose," I said.

"She just wants Daddy to hold her."

That line undid me. I let Elena go and lifted Tanya. Sure enough, she quieted instantly.

Elena watched me. "You're done. She already knows how to play you."

"Only her."

Two months later, I called Feodor into my study. On the desk sat a stack of authorization papers—and every route, warehouse, and personnel file we had.

He eyed them. "Are you planning to kill me?"

"Starting next month, you handle the organization's day-to-day. All of it."

For the first time, his face went blank. "Including routes and negotiations with the families?"

"Everything."

"You plan to retire?"