Page 183 of Betrayal and Vows

"Soon," she agrees, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

For the first time since I was five years old, I'm not planning anyone's death.

I'm just lying here with the woman I love, thinking about cribs and baby names and whether we'll need to childproof our home.

It's the most peaceful I've ever felt in my life.

Chapter 30

Lena

Two months later, the Rostova estate hums with quiet activity as I stand before the full-length mirror in what used to be my childhood bedroom.

The wedding dress is simple.

The cream-colored silk skims my body without being too tight around my barely visible bump.

At fifteen weeks, I'm just starting to show, a small curve that makes me smile every time I catch sight of it.

And Anton can’t keep his hands off the bump. He marvels at the thought of his son or daughter growing in my belly.

If I thought he was protective before, I couldn’t have begun to imagine how protective he would be now that I’m pregnant.

"You look beautiful," Kira breathes from behind me, adjusting the delicate lace veil that belonged to my mother. Elena had saved it all these years, wrapped in tissue paper and hidden away like a prayer for the future.

Initially, she wanted to burn it.

Destroy every last bit of connection to her wedding.

But not me.

I want to give the veil new memories.

I want to pass it down to my daughter one day.

The veil is special because Irina had made it for her.

It’s my connection to Anton’s mother.

"Radiant," Anastasia adds, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Absolutely radiant."

I smooth my hands over the silk, feeling the subtle swell of our baby beneath my palms. Anton doesn't know yet that I've felt the first flutters of movement—tiny bubbles of sensation that could be the baby or could be nerves. I want to tell him on our wedding night, when we're alone and this is finally real.

"Are you ready?" Kira asks softly.

Am I? Two months ago, I watched the man I love die four times. Two months ago, I thought I had lost everything. Now I'm about to marry him in the garden where I used to play as a child, surrounded by people who have become family through blood and choice.

"I'm ready," I say, and I mean it.

The ceremony is small—exactly what we wanted. White chairs arranged in neat rows on the manicured lawn, overlooking the rose garden my grandmother planted decades ago.

Dmitri stands at Anton's side as his best man, looking surprisingly respectable in his tailored black suit. He's been Anton's constant companion through his recovery, pushing him through physical therapy sessions and making sure he eats enough to regain the weight he lost in the hospital. Sometimes I think Dmitri cares more about Anton's health than Anton does.

Victor and Anastasia along with Dmitri’s grandmother are the only guests. And my mother, of course.

Mama sits in the front row, beautiful in her navy dress. There’s a radiant smile lighting her face for the first time in months. She splits her time between here and Spain now,discovering who she is outside of being Lenoid Rostova's wife. The change in her is remarkable—she laughs more, speaks her mind freely, even started painting again.

She says Spain is teaching her to live instead of just survive.