Niamph POV

I look out of the car window, watching the tall buildings of Moscow slide past like a never-ending stream of gray giants. It’s been an hour since we landed in Russia.

Lucy and I are in a separate car, while Sergey and that evil man are traveling in another. I insisted on bringing Bubbly along. There was no way I’d leave her behind—she’s practically my child now.

Lucy places a gentle hand over mine, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“You’re lost in there somewhere,” she says softly.

I smile faintly and shake my head. “I wasn’t lost… just feeling low, I guess. I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck here. I don’t like being away from my motherland for too long.”

She squeezes my hand supportively. “Everything will be fine… don’t think too much.”

I nod, grateful but unconvinced, and glance down at Bubbly. She’s curled up in my lap, fast asleep. Such a lazy little thing lately—but comforting in her own tiny way.

A sudden question bubbles in my mind.

“Lucy… who exactly is Babushka? Is she someone important?”

Lucy frowns at first, then lifts her brows in realization. “Niamph madam… Babushka is the former Tsarina—the grandmother of the Czar.”

I blink, confused. “Tsarina?”

Lucy nods. “Yes, Tsarina—meaning she was like the queen of the Russian mafia clan.”

My brows shoot up. “So… does that mean she’s just as dangerous as your Czar?”

Lucy chuckles under her breath. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t met her yet. Yes, she’s strict—especially when it comes to matters that demand strength—but she’s also kind. Really kind, in ways you’d never expect in this world.”

I look out of the window.

Queen of a blood-soaked kingdom… and kind?

Could those two truths ever exist in the same breath?

I shook my head, trying to clear the storm of thoughts swirling inside. There’s already too much weight on my mind. If I let it all in at once, I’ll definitely go mad.

I lean back against the seat and close my eyes for a moment.

Just for a moment.

..........

A gentle voice breaks through the silence.

“Niamph madam… wake up.”

My lashes flutter open. Lucy’s sitting beside me, holding Bubbly in her arms.

“We’ve reached,” she says, smiling.

I sit up straighter, rubbing my eyes. “I… I fell asleep. Were you calling me for long?”

Lucy shakes her head. “No, we just arrived.”

She steps out of the car, the chill from the outside creeping in as the door opens.

I sigh and push the door open on my side.

And then I see it.

A palace—massive, regal, and soaked in silent intimidation—rises in front of me like something pulled out of a war-torn fairytale. Its grand façade roars power, every corner carved with strength and history. The long walkway leading to its towering doors is lined with guards—each one looking less like men and more like soldiers built for war. Robotic in stance, eyes sharp, unreadable.

It doesn’t feel like I’ve stepped into another country.

It feels like I’ve entered another world entirely.

I stood there beside Lucy, silently taking in the towering palace in front of me. It looked like it had witnessed centuries—every stone whispering secrets of power, blood, and legacy.

A low hum caught my attention—the sound of another car pulling up behind us.

Sergey stepped out, immediately spotting me. He waved with his usual sunshine energy, and I found myself returning the gesture.

He walked over, his winter boots crunching softly on the gravel.

“Didn’t have any trouble during the trip, right?” he asked.

I shook my head, offering a small smile.

“No, it was good.”

Sergey made a dramatic pout.

“I should’ve come with you. The human refrigerator bored me to death with his robotic ‘guard rotation’ updates. I swear, even the trees outside the window looked more fun.”

I giggled despite myself. The way he spoke—it always managed to light up even the darkest spaces. He wasn’t wrong though…

My laughter died in my throat when I saw movement behind Sergey.

He stepped out of the car.

Mikhail Cozlov.

The soldiers immediately snapped into even sharper attention, like statues springing to life in the presence of a god they feared too much to worship. His gaze didn’t flicker to anyone—not even for a second. As if we were air. Unimportant. Beneath his notice.

He walked straight toward the massive palace doors, boots heavy with silent authority.

Sergey gave me a little shrug, as if to say "that's just him," then casually followed after.

I looked at Lucy once.

She gave me a reassuring glance.

We followed in silence.

As we stepped into the grand hall, my breath caught in my throat.

The ceilings soared like a cathedral. Marble floors shimmered under the glow of golden chandeliers. Intricate murals lined the walls—each one telling a story older than my entire bloodline.

Holy Christ… I didn’t even know a house could be this massive.

Before I could recover from the shock, a warm, graceful voice echoed through the hall.

“Oh, my Malysh… come here.”

I couldn’t see her face. I was standing behind both Mikhail and Sergey, and let’s just say Mikhail’s frame was large enough to block out my entire world.

But then I saw something, I never imagined witnessing in this lifetime.

Mikhail… hugged her back.

He actually returned a hug.

I blinked. Then glanced at Lucy to confirm I wasn’t hallucinating. Even she looked a bit stunned.

Sergey’s voice rang out, teasing as always.

“Wow, Babushka… now that your favorite grandson’s here, you forgot about your little potato. I’m hurt.”

The woman laughed, pulling him into a warm hug too. There was something so genuine in her energy—it wrapped the entire room in softness. I found a small smile forming on my lips.

Sergey stepped back and suddenly waved in my direction.

“Babushka, meet Niamph.”

My spine straightened a little. I took a step forward just as she turned her face toward me.

And my heart skipped a beat.

Miss Tatiana.

We’d met before—once. And from the surprised glimmer in her eyes, she remembered me too.

“Niamph,” she whispered softly.

Mikhail’s gaze flicked between us, instantly catching the familiarity. His brows drew together, eyes narrowing ever so slightly in suspicion.

Sergey glanced between us, puzzled. “Wait… you two know each other?”

I was about to explain, parting my lips…

But Miss Tatiana—Babushka—spoke before I could.

“Yes, I do,” she said with a gentle smile. Then walked over to me and ran her hand affectionately over my head. “Come.”

She opened her arms, and without hesitation, I stepped into her embrace. It was warm. Kind. For a moment, I let myself breathe.

We pulled apart, and Mikhail's voice cut in, calm but inquisitive.

“How do you know her, Babulik?”

Tatiana held my palm softly and smiled, her eyes sparkling with the memory.

“Let’s just say… destiny had us meet a long time ago.”

She looked at me fondly. I could feel Mikhail's unwavering stare burning into the side of my face.

“Come now,” she added, gesturing toward the sitting area. “Let’s sit and talk.”

Author POV

They were all settled in the lavish living room. Niamph sat on the edge of the couch, holding Bubbly lovingly in her arms. The little fluffball purred contentedly, nestled against her.

Lucy had slipped away toward the kitchen, leaving the group to settle in. Tatiana’s gaze landed on the small cat with a glimmer of delight.

“Oh my… that’s adorable,” she said, reaching out to stroke Bubbly’s head. “Is she yours?”

Niamph’s eyes lit up with pride, her smile blooming.

“Yes! Her name is Bubbly.”

She paused for a second, then hesitantly added, “Um… can I keep her with me here?”

There was a hopeful lilt in her voice, but her nerves made it sound like a child asking permission to keep a stray kitten. Tatiana raised an elegant brow, lips curling into a thoughtful pout. She tilted her head, clearly teasing.

Niamph’s smile dimmed ever so slightly at the expression. Her arms subconsciously tightened around Bubbly.

Tatiana shifted her eyes toward Mikhail, who was silently making his way toward the stairs—no doubt heading to his fortress of solitude: the study.

“Mikhail,” she called out lightly.

Niamph’s eyes widened, heartbeat hitching. Was she going to tell him to get rid of Bubbly?

Mikhail paused and turned slightly, lifting his chin as if giving Tatiana silent permission to speak.

“You really ought to hire someone to handle your laundry properly,” Tatiana said, keeping a completely serious expression.

Sergey blinked, his eyes darting between the two, not following the sudden shift.

Mikhail’s brows pulled together slightly, doubtful but silent.

Tatiana turned back to Niamph with a playful grin.

“Because Bubbly,” she said, scratching the cat under her chin, “is officially a new member of this house.”

Niamph’s breath caught in surprise. Then she giggled—soft and bright like spring bells. Bubbly meowed in agreement, almost as if she understood her royal induction.

Sergey burst into laughter, throwing his head back.

“Oh my God, Babushka. That was savage,” he cackled.

Mikhail stare at niamph.

His icy blur eyes didn’t leave Niamph’s face for a second, watching the way she giggled, the way she glowed—even for something as simple as being allowed to keep her cat.

And without a word, he turned and walked away.

Tatiana glanced at Sergey. A brief, silent exchange passed between them—one of those wordless conversations only close family can have. Then her eyes shifted gently to Niamph.

"Niamph," she said warmly.

Niamph straightened slightly, her hands folded in her lap.

"Yes, Tatiana ma’am?"

Tatiana reached out and clasped her hand with surprising tenderness.

"Call me Babushka, dear. Now, tell me a bit about yourself. Your family… how are they doing?"

The question hit Niamph like a cold gust of wind. Her heart clenched painfully, but she schooled her features, determined not to let the ache show. Mikhail’s cruel warning echoed in her head—Don't forget, Niamph...the life thread of your precious father is in my hands. I can snap it in a second.

She took a small breath, steeling herself. Then quietly crossed her fingers beneath the table—an apology to Jesus in advance.

"It’s just me and my father," she said softly. "He’s… currently receiving treatment. He had an accident."

Tatiana’s expression shifted instantly, her eyes filling with concern. Her hand moved up to gently lift Niamph’s chin, her touch maternal.

"My sweet devushka, you are not alone. From now on, I’m here. You’ll consider me your grandmother, alright?"

A tear slipped from the corner of Niamph’s eye—this time from warmth, not fear. Elderly affection was something she’d experienced so rarely in her life. It felt like a foreign luxury… almost unreal.

She smiled through her tears. "Thank you, Babushka."

Tatiana returned the smile, but a small flicker of confusion crossed her face.

"But… the day we met, you mentioned being here with your sister, didn’t you?"

Niamph froze for a beat before her memory caught up. She had said that.

"Yes—yes, I do have a sister," she replied quickly. "She’s back in Ireland right now… looking after our father while I’m away."

The lie tasted bitter. She have made it two now—two lies to the kindest soul she had met. She curled her toes inside her shoes, guilt clawing at her insides.

Tatiana, unaware of the internal storm, nodded understandingly and patted her hand. "Good, good. Family should never be left alone."

The emotional air in the room thickened—until Sergey burst in, dramatically throwing his hands in the air.

"Alright, alright—enough with the tragic backstories!" he exclaimed. "Babushka, I’m starving over here. Let’s eat something before I faint dramatically on this royal carpet."

Tatiana chuckled and stood. Sergey waltzed over to Niamph, winking theatrically.

"You, Miss Niamph, are about to have the world’s most divine tea. Babushka’s recipe. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Niamph let out a small laugh, grateful for the lightness.

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Tatiana sat on the edge of her grand bed, her face glowing with quiet delight. There was a lightness in her smile—as if a weight had finally lifted from her chest. Across from her, Sergey perched on a cushioned stool, one leg bouncing absentmindedly as he studied her.

“Babushka,” he began, narrowing his eyes, “do you really think they like each other?”

Tatiana turned to him, her expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Think? No, my sweet potato—I’m certain.”

Sergey tilted his head in confusion. “But… Niamph always looks so timid around him. I haven’t seen them talk for more than a minute at a time.”

Tatiana chuckled softly, the sound like wind chimes in a warm breeze.

“She’s a girl, malysh. Why would she make the first move? It should be my brooding grandson to take the first step.”

Sergey raised an eyebrow and waved a dismissive hand. “And how exactly is that going to happen?”

Tatiana stood up slowly, her smile only widening.

“I’m his grandmother, not some stranger off the street. I will get a confession out of that stubborn boy. I saw the way he looks at her. Stoic as he may

act, his eyes don’t lie. These old eyes of mine know what love looks like—and he’s knee-deep in it.”

Sergey crossed his arms, still frowning. “And what’s your master plan, Babushka?”

Tatiana gave him a mysterious smile and smoothed down the folds of her robe.

“You’ll see tomorrow.”

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