I woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the smell of coffee.

For a full minute, I didn't recognize where I was. The room was too large, too elegant, too... warm. Then my eyes landed on the folded blanket on the couch.

Right. Sebastian's room.

We'd shared a space last night — separated by furniture and restraint — but still together. My cheeks heated at the memory.

A gentle knock sounded.
"Mila? You awake?" Claire's voice.

"Come in," I called.

She poked her head through the door with a grin. "Good morning! Sebastian asked me to check on you. He's in a meeting with Father, but breakfast is waiting when you're ready." She stepped inside with a tray. "I brought coffee. And pastries. And juice — wasn't sure what you liked."

"You really didn't have to," I said.

"I wanted to." She placed the tray beside me, then sat on the edge of the bed, eyes twinkling. "So... you slept here."

My face went hot. "The power outage—"

"I know." Her grin widened. "Still. A bathroom renovation, the protective rage episode, and now a sleepover? My brother is gone."

"Clara."

"I'm happy for him," she said gently. "For both of you."

I exhaled. "Nothing happened. We just talked."

She nodded like she didn't believe me, but her teasing softened. "He won't rush you. Sebastian has a terrifying amount of self-control."

I chewed on my lip. "I don't even know what I feel yet."

"That's okay. You've had a whirlwind of a week." She nudged my arm. "But I'm glad you're here."

Warmth spread through my chest at her sincerity. I'd never had a friend like this — a sister.

"We do family breakfast on Saturdays," she continued. "Everyone attends. Want to come? No pressure."

The idea made my stomach twist — meeting everyone fully, officially — but I didn't want to hide.

"I'd like that," I said.

Clara lit up. "Perfect! I'll come back in twenty to get you."

She left, and I sat there staring into my coffee like it held answers.

Family breakfast with the Medvedevs.

What could possibly go wrong?

The meeting with Father was doomed from the moment he opened his mouth.

"You can't cut ties with Ivanov because he insulted Mila," he said, pouring himself morning vodka like it was water. "He controls half our southern operations."

"Then I'll take the other half too." My voice was ice. "I don't tolerate disrespect toward my wife."

"You're letting emotion interfere with business."

"I'm setting a boundary." I stood. "This conversation is over. I'm having breakfast with Mila."

His eyes narrowed. "You care for her."

"Yes."

"It's dangerous."

"So is power." I paused at the door. "Join us or don't."

I didn't wait for a reply.

By the time I reached the dining room, everyone was already there. Laughter. Bickering. Noise.

And Mila — seated at the table, a spot cleared for her, looking small and beautiful in the chaos.

She looked up when I entered. The room quieted.

"Morning," I said, taking the seat beside her. I let my hand settle briefly on her shoulder — grounding for both of us. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I expected," she answered softly.

Clara leaned in. "We've been civil. Mostly."

"Define civil," Damien said with a mouth full of pastry. Julian smacked him without looking up.

The familiar chaos flowed around us — and Mila watched it with wonder. She wasn't used to this. To family that teased instead of tore apart.

"What?" I asked her quietly.

"You all... like each other," she said.

Clara squeezed her hand. "Well, we're stuck with each other forever. Now you're stuck with us too."

Something in Mila's gaze glimmered — hope.

Damien pointed his fork at her. "So tell us — is Sebastian as terrifying as they say?"

"Damien," I warned.

"What? It's a valid question."

Mila hid a smile. "Honestly? I thought he might kill me at the altar."

Damien howled laughing. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't fight the warmth in my chest.

"But then he knelt," Mila continued, her eyes finding mine, "and I realized he wasn't what I expected."

The room stilled. My heart did something unfamiliar — softened.

"What did you expect?" Clara asked.

"Someone cold. Unfeeling. Someone like my father — who saw me as broken." She swallowed. "But Sebastian... isn't like that. He's kind. In his own way."

Damien blinked. "Kind? Him? Are we sure we're discussing the same person?"

"Shut up," I muttered — and Clara gasped.

"He's blushing! Mila, you broke the impossible man!"

Mila laughed — the sound bright and unguarded — and something inside me unlocked.

This is what I wanted for her. Joy. Safety. Home.

Then the temperature dropped.

Nikolai stepped into the room.

"Mila," he said, voice heavy. "A word. Alone."

My hand found hers beneath the table instantly. "No. Anything you say to my wife, you say in front of me."

He held my gaze. Challenge. Power.

Then — something rare.

"I owe you an apology," he said to Mila.

The room froze.

"I misjudged you," Father said. "I saw weakness where there was strength. I was wrong. You are no liability — you're an asset to this family."

Silence. Mila stared at him, stunned.

"Security has been increased," he added. "Anyone who wants to reach you will have to go through walls of steel. You are Medvedev now. And we protect our own."

Her eyes glossed with emotion. "Thank you."

He nodded once. "You chose well, Sebastian."

"I know."

He left as abruptly as he arrived.

Damien exhaled dramatically. "Did Father just... apologize? Are we dreaming?"

"No," Clara whispered, "I think he genuinely likes her."

Julian raised his coffee in a toast. "Welcome to the family, Mila. Officially."

Mila looked around the table — and her expression broke me a little.

Hope. Belonging. Home.

For the first time, she wasn't treated like a burden.

For the first time, she belonged.

...

After breakfast, I walked her to her room. Just the two of us. Quiet hallways. Close enough to touch.

"You survived breakfast," I said.

"Barely." She laughed softly. "Your family is... wonderful. Loud, but wonderful."

"They mean well. Mostly."

She turned her wheelchair to face me. "I'm... grateful, Sebastian. For all of it. For last night. For today."

Her voice carved into me.

"Always," I said — my own voice too rough.

We stood there, electricity humming. Thoughts unspoken. A kiss suspended in the air between us.

But I stepped back. Because if I touched her now, I wouldn't stop.

"I should let you rest."

She hesitated. "Last night, by the fire—"

"Yes?"

"Nothing. Just... thank you."

I didn't believe her. But I respected her space.

"Take your time," I said. "I'll be here."

And as I walked away, I felt her eyes follow me. Felt the tether between us pull tight — and tighter.

Something was building.

Something unstoppable.

I closed the door behind me, heart thudding.

I almost asked Were you going to kiss me last night? Because I wanted you to.

But fear choked the words back. Feelings were forming too fast — unfamiliar, terrifying, addictive.

Want.

Need.

Hope.

A soft knock.
"Mila! It's Clara. Want to hang out? I'll tell you Damien's most humiliating stories."

I smiled despite everything. "Give me five minutes."

I'd deal with whatever this was with Sebastian later.

For now — for the first time in years — someone wanted me around.

And that was enough.

For now.