Chapter 10 - The Garden of Voss
Three years later.
The afternoon sun was warm and golden, casting bright light across the sprawling green lawns and blooming flower gardens of the Voss estate.
In the center of the vast eastern lawn, sitting on a soft woven blanket beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree, was Iris. She was wearing a simple, elegant yellow summer dress, her dark hair flowing freely down her back.
Beside her, running barefoot through the soft grass, chasing a golden retriever puppy, was three-year-old Leo Voss. He was a energetic, bright child with his father’s striking dark eyes and his mother’s warm, infectious laugh.
"Daddy! Look!" Leo cheered, pointing toward the edge of the terrace.
Walking down the stone steps, wearing a relaxed white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, was Nikolai. He had entirely shed the dark, oppressive aura of his past. Though he remained the undisputed leader of the region's most powerful enterprise, his home was a realm of total, absolute peace.
Nikolai walked across the grass, scooping little Leo up into his broad arms with ease, tossing him high into the air, making the boy shriek with delight before catching him safely against his chest.
"Did you take care of your mother today, little Don?" Nikolai asked, pressing a kiss to the boy's cheek.
"I picked roses for her!" Leo declared proudly, pointing to a small, slightly bruised bouquet of pink roses sitting in a plastic cup on the blanket.
Nikolai laughed—a rich, warm sound—and sat down on the blanket beside Iris, placing Leo on his lap. He reached out, pulling Iris into his side, wrapping his arm around her waist, kissing the crown of her head.
"He takes after you," Nikolai murmured softly, looking at the small bouquet. "He’s obsessed with flowers."
"He takes after both of us," Iris smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder, looking out over the quiet, beautiful gardens. "He knows how to pick them gently, but he knows how to protect the roots."
Iris looked down at her lap.
In her hands, resting on top of her leather journal, was a small, pristine piece of paper—a new ultrasound scan, showing a four-week-old gestational sac.
Nikolai’s eyes caught the paper. His arm tightened around her waist, his breath catching slightly as he looked down at her with a quiet, profound intensity that had only grown stronger over the years.
He didn't pull out a pair of scissors this time. He didn't demand explanations. He didn't threaten wars.
Instead, Nikolai took the small white paper from her hand, held it with exquisite care, and placed it safely inside his leather wallet—right next to the taped-together pieces of the original torn ultrasound from four years ago.
He turned to Iris, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a slow, deep, breathtaking kiss that carried the weight of every storm they had survived, every victory they had won, and every promise they had kept.
"I love you, my Donna," Nikolai whispered against her lips as the sun dipped low over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of deep gold and brilliant rose.
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"I love you, Nikolai," Iris replied, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding her family close beneath the open, peaceful sky.
The torn pieces had been gathered, the broken treaty had been rewritten, and in the garden built from shadows and sacrifice, love had finally bloomed to stay.
