Chapter 176
Evelyn's POV
My own voice was getting rough. "I want you to see that I survived. That I found something worth surviving for. Want you to witness the life I'm building that isn't about weapons or violence or—"
"Or the empire I created." Nikolai finished softly. "I understand. And I—" He had to stop. Compose himself. "I would be honored. Truly honored. To be there. To witness—" His voice broke again. "To witness my daughter choosing love."
We looked at each other across that corridor. And something passed between us. Not forgiveness. Not absolution. But understanding. Acknowledgment. A tentative first step toward something that might, someday, resemble a relationship.
"There's one condition," I added. Trying to lighten the moment even though my own eyes were wet. "You have to promise not to run background checks on Julian's family. Or conduct surveillance on the wedding venue. Or—"
"Or behave like a paranoid spymaster instead of a father giving away his daughter." Nikolai actually smiled. Small and sad but genuine. "I promise. I'll be there as Nikolai. Retired businessman. Nothing more."
"Good." I nodded. "Then I'll see you Thursday. Two o'clock. The Hamptons house."
"I'll be there." He promised. "And Evelyn—" He paused. "Thank you. For giving me this. For letting me be part of—" His voice caught. "For letting me be part of your joy instead of just your pain."
Then he was gone again. And this time I let him go. Let him walk away with that promise between us. The promise that in five days, he'd stand in a ballroom and watch me marry Julian. Would witness the life I'd built from the ruins of what he'd made me into.
Would see, perhaps, that his greatest creation wasn't the weapon he'd forged in Vorkuta. But the woman who'd survived it and chosen to love anyway.
I made my way back to my hospital room. Each step sending pain through my broken ribs. But underneath the physical hurt was something else. Something that felt almost like peace.
Julian was still asleep when I slipped back into bed. Still holding the space where I'd been. I curled against him carefully. Felt his arms automatically tighten around me even in sleep.
"Where'd you go?" His voice was rough with sleep. Concerned. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I pressed my face against his chest. Breathed in his scent. Let his steady heartbeat ground me. "I'm okay. I just—" I had to stop. Figure out how to explain. "I just had a conversation with Nikolai. About the wedding. About—" My voice caught. "About letting him be my father instead of just my former handler."
Julian went very still. Then his arms tightened around me. Careful of my ribs but unmistakably protective.
"How do you feel about that?" No judgment in his voice. Just genuine curiosity. Genuine care.
"Terrified." I admitted. "But also—" I searched for the right word. "Also hopeful. That maybe—maybe I can have this. A father who's trying to do better. A husband who loves me. A life that isn't just survival."
"You can have it." Julian's voice was fierce. Certain. "You can have all of it. Everything you want. Everything you deserve. I'll make damn sure of that."
I smiled against his chest. Felt something in my chest expand. Warm and bright and almost painful in its intensity.
"I know you will." I whispered. "That's why I said yes when you proposed. Why I'm still saying yes even after everything that's happened. Because you make me believe—" I had to stop. Breathe through the emotion. "You make me believe that I can be more than what Nikolai made me. That I can have love and family and hope. That I can choose to build something instead of just destroying."
Julian pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You're already building it, sweetheart. Every day. Every choice. Every time you let yourself be vulnerable instead of armored. You're building the life you deserve."
I listened to his words—so certain, so full of conviction—and felt something shift in my chest. Here he was, telling me how to build a life, how to let people in, how to give second chances. And yet—
I pulled back slightly. Just enough to look up at his face. The strong jaw. The gray eyes that had seen so much violence but still looked at me with such tenderness. The mouth that could be hard as steel in tactical situations but was soft now, curved in that gentle smile he reserved only for me.
Slowly, carefully, I reached up and placed my hand against his cheek. Felt the slight stubble there. The warmth of his skin. The way he automatically leaned into my touch.
"That's beautiful advice," I said softly. "Really. You're very good at this whole 'building a life' speech." I paused. Let my thumb trace along his cheekbone. "So tell me—what about your own father?"
Julian went very still. The kind of stillness that meant I'd hit something deep. Something he'd been carefully not thinking about.
"That's different," he said after a moment. His voice was carefully neutral. Too neutral.
"Is it?" I kept my hand on his face. Kept my voice gentle. "Because from where I'm lying, it seems like you're asking me to do something you haven't been able to do yourself."
His jaw tightened under my palm. "My father and I—we have an understanding. We don't need to—"
"You haven't spoken to him in how long?" I interrupted. Not accusatory. Just curious. "Seven years? Eight?"
"It's complicated."
"Everything's complicated." I shifted slightly, ignoring the protest from my ribs. "But you just spent the last ten minutes telling me I deserve this life. That I should let people in and believe in second chances." I paused. "So why doesn't that apply to Thomas Russell?"