Page 75 of Secret Heir

“Not exactly. More like…” I search for the right words. "Like a neighborhood watch, but bigger. We make sure people are treated fairly and they’re not taken advantage of.”

“And the territories?”

“Areas where we operate. Where we make sure our people are protected.”

“And how do you protect our people?” Daniel asks, but I can tell the question concerns him based on how hard he swallows.

“That, Danya, is something I can’t tell you just yet,” I say evasively, knowing that this answer is more damning than anything else I could have given him. “You’re still too young.”

Daniel pouts. “Well, how old do I have to be?”

Never. “When I decide you’re old enough,” I counter. “I’m not perfect. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. But I try to protect the people I love and to do what’s right for my family.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, then he fidgets with his book, his expression shifting from curious to troubled. “Maks? Can I ask something else?”

Anything other than this line of questioning, yes. “Always. You don’t have to ask.”

“Why does Mama get sad sometimes?”

The shift in topic surprises me. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I see her looking at me, and she looks she’s about to cry. But then she smiles and pretends she’s okay.” He fidgets with the book. “Is it because of me? Did I do something wrong? Is it because of the Bratva?”

My chest tightens. “No, Danya. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your mother loves you more than anything in the world.”

“Then why does she look sad? Is she scared of the bad guys you fight?”

How do I explain this to a nearly eight-year-old? How do I tell him that his mother is fighting battles I can’t even see?

“Your mother has been through a lot,” I say carefully. “She’s had to be very strong for a very long time. Sometimes when you’re strong for too long, it gets heavy. Does that make sense?”

He nods slowly. “Like when I carry too many books and my arms get tired?”

“Exactly like that. Your mama has been carrying a lot of heavy things, and sometimes it makes her tired.”

“Can we help her?” Daniel asks hopefully. “Make it lighter?”

The innocence of the question and the genuine concern in his eyes, makes my throat close up.

“We’re trying,” I tell him. “You help her just by being you and making her laugh.”

“Okay.” He seems satisfied with this answer. “Will the new baby make her happier when it comes?”

Daniel had been beside himself with joy when Aria and I had told him he was going to get a baby brother or sister.

“I think so,” I say, hoping it’s true. “I think having another person to love will make all of us happier.”

That night, after Daniel is asleep, I find Aria in bed reading. She’s propped up against the headboard in one of my t-shirts. She’s been stealing them constantly as according to her, they’re more comfortable than her own clothes.

The bedside lamp casts soft light across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, and the dark fall of her hair over one shoulder. She’s not wearing makeup, and I can see the faint shadows under her eyes, the small changes pregnancy is making to her features.

She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask as I join her in bed.

She sets down her book, looking wary. “What?”

“Tell me about Daniel’s early years. The things I missed.” The words come out rougher than I intend. “Please. I need to know.”