Chapter 7 - The Unspoken Vow
The destruction of the Moretti family sent shockwaves through the American criminal underworld. In a single night, Viktor Rostov had completely dismantled his greatest rival, securing absolute dominance over the region. But inside the Rostov estate, the atmosphere was entirely different.
The violence had ended. The shadows had receded.
A month after the dock confrontation, Emma stood in the estate’s warm, sun-drenched kitchen, kneading a large batch of sweet sourdough dough. The morning sun streamed through the arched windows, casting golden light across the flour-dusted marble counters.
Little Sophie sat on a tall stool beside her, happily shaping small dough balls into animal shapes.
Suddenly, small hands tapped Emma’s waist. Emma looked down.
Sophie looked up at her, her eyes bright and steady. For the first time, the little girl cleared her throat. She took a deep breath, her vocal cords straining against two years of absolute silence.
“M... Mamma,” Sophie croaked out softly.
The rolling pin slipped from Emma’s fingers, clattering onto the floor.
Emma dropped to her knees, tears instantly welling in her eyes. “Sophie... sweetheart...”
Sophie raised her hands, signing with overwhelming emotion: You are my Mamma. Please stay forever.
Before Emma could speak, a shadow fell over them. Viktor stood in the doorway of the kitchen. He had heard the soft, croaking word from the hallway. He stood paralyzed, tears gleaming in his sharp grey eyes as he looked at his daughter—the daughter who had finally found her voice because of the woman kneeling before her.
Viktor walked slowly into the kitchen. He didn't say a word. He knelt down beside Emma, pulling both her and Sophie into a massive, warm embrace.
“She called me Mamma,” Emma sobbed softly into his shoulder.
“Because you are,” Viktor whispered, kissing Emma’s forehead, then her cheek, before stopping just millimeters from her lips. “You have been the mother of this house since the night you took a bullet for her. You are the heart of my life, Emma.”
He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a breathtaking ring—a glowing emerald surrounded by a halo of flawless pink diamonds.
“I am a man with blood on my hands,” Viktor said softly, looking into Emma’s brown eyes with absolute humility. “I cannot offer you a simple life. But I can promise you eternal loyalty, absolute respect, and a love that will defend you until my last breath. Will you be my wife, Emma?”
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Emma looked at the ring, then at Sophie, who was jumping up and down, signing frantically: Say yes! Say yes!
Emma smiled—a radiant, beautiful smile that lit up the entire room. “Yes, Viktor. Yes.”
