The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 261

Aveline

I pace the living room like a caged animal, the sound of muffled voices and medical equipment filtering down from upstairs. Taking Orion to a hospital was out of the question—with the Pakhan's unpredictable nature, who knows which location that maniac might target next. He operates without principles, without patterns, making him impossible to anticipate.

Instead, I'd emptied my accounts to bring in the city's most elite trauma surgeons. They arrived within hours, carrying portable surgical equipment that rivals anything found in major hospitals. The irony isn't lost on me—I can afford the best medical care money can buy, but I can't guarantee Orion's safety in a public facility.

I'd wanted to stay in the room, to watch over every procedure, but Orion had insisted I leave. Even through his pain and the haze of medication, he'd seen how my composure was cracking. "I can't focus on healing if I'm watching you fall apart," he'd whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please, Aveline. Let them work."

So here I am, wearing a path in the hardwood floors while the man I love fights for his life upstairs. Every creak of the floorboards above makes my heart race. Every pause in conversation from the medical team sends my imagination spiraling toward worst-case scenarios.

Dmitri occupies the leather sofa, his long frame sprawled with deceptive casualness. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tap against his knee in an impatient rhythm. He's waiting for Vivian to return, and I suspect he's as anxious as I am, though he hides it better.

"You're going to wear a hole in that floor," he observes, his Russian accent lending gravitas to the casual comment.

I pause mid-stride, realizing I've been unconsciously holding my breath. "The surgeons said it could take hours. Internal bleeding, possible organ damage..." I trail off, unable to voice the full extent of my fears.

Dmitri studies me with those calculating green eyes. "Where do you think Vivian took Sera?"

The question catches me off guard. I'd been so focused on Orion's condition that I hadn't fully processed what my sister-in-law was planning. But knowing Vivian...

"I told her to make sure Sera understands the consequences of crossing our family," I say slowly. "Knowing Vivian's temperament, I suspect she'll interpret that quite literally."

A sardonic smile plays at Dmitri's lips. "You know her well."

I sink into the chair across from him, suddenly exhausted. "Usually, I find her methods too extreme. But after what Sera did to Orion, after what she put him through..." My voice hardens. "Even if Vivian kills her tonight, I wouldn't consider it excessive."

Dmitri's smile widens with genuine amusement. "Interesting. But I don't think she'll kill Sera. Not yet, anyway."

I'm about to ask why when the front door bursts open with characteristic force. Vivian strides in, her hair slightly disheveled but her expression triumphant. She moves with the fluid confidence of someone who's just accomplished something significant.

"Because she still has value," Vivian announces, catching the tail end of our conversation.

I can't help but smile at her dramatic entrance. "Your style is becoming more like Dmitri's every day. All right, what kind of value are we talking about?"

Vivian helps herself to a glass of water from the bar, taking her time before delivering what I can tell is going to be significant news. "She says the Pakhan is in New York."

Both Dmitri and I freeze. The implications hit me like a physical blow.

"Where?" Dmitri demands, all traces of casual amusement vanishing from his voice.

"The Meridian Hotel," Vivian replies, settling into a chair with predatory grace. "According to Sera, Charles and Devan met with him there just yesterday."

Dmitri's expression shifts to one of grudging admiration. "Vivian, I severely underestimated you. That information is worth its weight in gold." He leans forward, his tactical mind clearly spinning. "Though I should have realized—the coordination of these recent attacks, the precision of their timing. It would be nearly impossible without the Pakhan's direct oversight. Of course he's here personally. He means business."

Vivian nods, her eyes gleaming with dangerous intent. "Exactly my thinking. Which is why I believe we should stop playing defense and take the fight directly to him. Cut off the head, and the rest of the organization becomes manageable."

Dmitri's smile becomes predatory, almost feral. "You're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting..."

"Night raid on the Meridian," Vivian confirms. "Tonight."

A chill runs down my spine. The audacity of it is breathtaking, but so is the risk. "Are you certain Sera was telling the truth? What if this is misinformation?"

"She was terrified out of her mind," Vivian replies with conviction. "I've seen people lie under pressure—this wasn't that. The desperation in her eyes, the way she begged... she was telling the truth."

Dmitri nods slowly. "But we don't have a room number."

Vivian's smile is sharp as a blade. "Room registered under the name 'Nemesis.'"

"Nemesis?" Dmitri's eyebrows rise. "I've heard that alias before in certain circles. Your intelligence checks out."

"Exactly. He's using his operational codename. Once we identify the specific room, the operation becomes straightforward." Vivian begins checking her concealed weapons with practiced efficiency, sliding a compact pistol into an ankle holster with fluid motion. "Dmitri, your final confrontation with your former mentor has arrived."

Dmitri rises from the sofa, his entire demeanor transforming from relaxed observer to lethal operative. "How thrilling. I've been looking forward to seeing the shock on the old man's face when I walk through his door."

Watching them prepare for what could be a suicide mission, I feel my protective instincts warring with tactical necessity. This opportunity may not come again, but the risks are enormous.

"Take additional backup," I urge. "Ensure you have every possible advantage. I'll stay here with Orion in case something goes wrong."

Dmitri shakes his head. "More personnel increases the likelihood of detection. We can't afford to alert him before we're in position. If the opportunity presents itself, two people will be sufficient."

As they head toward the door, I notice their appearance—Dmitri in his signature black leather jacket and combat boots, Vivian in form-fitting tactical gear that screams "dangerous professional." They look like they're heading to a formal declaration of war.

"Stop!" I call out, exasperated. "Are you trying to announce your intentions to everyone in the hotel?"

Vivian pauses, looking down at her outfit with mild confusion. "This is a final confrontation. Doesn't it warrant some ceremonial significance?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering how two of the most dangerous people I know can be so dramatically impractical. "Give me five minutes."

I return with casual civilian clothes—hoodies, baseball caps, sunglasses, loose-fitting jeans that could conceal weapons while making them look like any other hotel guests. Watching them reluctantly change into the mundane disguises is almost comical.

After they leave, the house falls into an oppressive silence. The medical team emerges from upstairs, their lead surgeon approaching with the kind of measured professionalism that immediately tells me the news is good.

"Mr. Blackwell is stable," he reports. "The wounds were serious but avoided any vital organs. We've addressed the bleeding, cleaned and sutured everything properly. With rest and proper care, he should make a full recovery."

The relief that washes over me is so intense I have to sit down. "Thank you. All of you. I can't express how grateful—"

"We should be leaving now," the surgeon continues. "Our work here is finished."

But as they begin packing their equipment, a different kind of anxiety takes hold. Orion will need monitoring, someone qualified to watch for complications or changes in his condition. The thought of being alone with him, responsible for recognizing signs of medical distress, terrifies me more than facing armed enemies.

"Actually," I say, my voice taking on the authoritative tone that usually gets results in business negotiations, "I need one of you to remain. For observation purposes."

The lead surgeon shakes his head politely. "Mrs. Blackwell, while I understand your concern, Mr. Blackwell's condition doesn't require—"

"I'm not asking," I interrupt, letting steel creep into my voice. I gesture subtly toward the corners of the room where my security team maintains discrete positions. "I'm telling you that one of you will remain here tonight. For my peace of mind."

The surgeons exchange glances, suddenly aware of the armed men positioned throughout the house. The message is clear: this isn't a medical recommendation, it's a non-negotiable demand backed by the kind of resources that make refusal... inadvisable.

The youngest surgeon, a resident who's been quiet all evening, steps forward. "I can stay. Monitor his vitals, watch for any complications."

"Excellent." I signal to my head of security. "Please escort Dr..." I look at the young man expectantly.

"Dr. Chen."

"Please escort Dr. Chen to the guest room. Make sure he has everything he needs." I turn back to the doctor with a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "You'll find the accommodations quite comfortable. And the compensation for this extended service will be... generous."

After the rest of the medical team leaves and Dr. Chen is settled, I finally allow myself to climb the stairs to our bedroom. Orion lies still as death, his face pale but peaceful under the influence of pain medication. The steady rise and fall of his chest is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I settle into the chair beside the bed, taking his hand carefully to avoid disturbing the IV line. His fingers are warm, alive, reassuring in their solid reality.

But even in this moment of relief, I can't stop thinking about Vivian and Dmitri. By now, they're probably approaching the Meridian Hotel. Two people against one of the most dangerous men in the criminal underworld, in what could be his stronghold.

I close my eyes and press my palms together, offering up a prayer to whatever forces might be listening. *Let them succeed. Let this nightmare end tonight. Let the Pakhan become nothing more than an unpleasant memory.*

The house settles around me, quiet except for the soft beeping of Orion's monitoring equipment. Somewhere across the city, the final battle is about to begin.