Melissa "My life plot twist."

A few hours ago, in the bathroom of the café where we came to have lunch, the biggest plot twist of my life occurred.

As I sat on the toilet, my hands trembling while holding my phone, I saw an email. It was from Dr. Graves, the gynecologist who delivered my baby four and a half years ago. I hadn't heard from her in years after she told me that my... our children with Roman had died, and now this email appeared, heavy and ominous. Even if it was electronic.

Taking a deep breath, I tapped the screen and began to read:

Dear Mrs. Kirillova, good afternoon,

I have little time left. I have been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and I realized that I cannot leave this world without telling you the truth. Four and a half years ago, when you gave birth prematurely at 26 weeks, I made a decision that I regret every day since.

Your children—your three precious babies—did not die at birth. They were born weak but alive. But there was Alex Mortelli, and he threatened me. He said that if I didn't give him the children, he would kill me. I was scared, Melissa. I had never encountered such cold cruelty before. I am a doctor, sworn to protect life, but at that moment, I felt powerless.

Alex promised me money if I complied, and in my fear and desperation, I agreed. I thought I could live with it, telling myself that you would never know, that the pain would fade for all of us over time. But it didn't, and now I burn with guilt.

The truth is that Alex took your children and made you believe they had died. I know you must hate me. You have every right to. But I ask you to understand that at that moment, I was not myself. I was afraid for my life. And now, as my life comes to an end, I feel it is only fair that you know the truth.

I am very sorry, Melissa. I have lived with this guilt for too long and do not expect you to forgive me. But I could not leave without telling you what really happened.

Your children—your triplets, the girls—are alive.

Please do what you feel is right with this information. But I urge you, find them and bring them back to yourself. They are your children, not his. They have always been yours.

With deepest regret, Dr. Claire Graves.

I stared at the letters on the screen, my vision blurred as my eyes filled with tears. The stall felt too small, too stuffy. I was gasping for air. My hands trembled even more, and the phone fell to the floor with a dull thud.

My triplets. Alive.

I had mourned them, convinced they had left too soon, barely able to hold their tiny bodies before they "died." But it was all a lie. Alex had planned everything; he had stolen them from me, leaving me with an empty pain of loss while he... what? What exactly was his plan in doing this?

I thought of my nieces—Gianna, Josie, and Jane. My heart raced as pieces of the monstrous puzzle began to fit together. Could this really be true? Could they be my daughters?

I hadn't seen Alex often when I lived with Roman, but there were only two people who knew about my pregnancy—Leah and Natasha. And of course, I had seen Lilith even less, so I really thought she was pregnant and had given birth back then.

My breath caught. A fury ignited within me, mixed with grief and confusion. The world I knew had just shattered into a thousand pieces.

I sat in stunned silence for a long time, realizing the truth that crashed down on me like a tsunami. My nieces—Gianna, Josie, and Jane—were not my nieces at all. They were my daughters. My daughters. This realization hit me like a blow to the stomach, taking my breath away and making my mind spin, and I immediately lost my appetite. How could I have not noticed? How could I have spent years with them, holding them in my arms, laughing with them, wiping their tears, without feeling that our connection was so much deeper than mere blood?

They were mine and Roman's. The girls were the result of a love that once burned so brightly before everything fell apart. Before lies, betrayal, and estrangement came into the picture. I carried them inside me, felt them grow, felt them move, and dreamed of holding them in my arms. But I was told they were gone. They were taken from me before I could even get to know them.

Yes, because the doctor said they died, that the premature birth at 26 weeks was too hard for their fragile bodies. I grieved for them, mourned the loss of my children, never suspecting that it had all been a lie. This loss nearly destroyed me, but somehow I survived. And now I was told that everything I believed was a fabrication. The girls I thought were my nieces were my children.

I remembered how I held Gianna in my arms for the first time, just a few days after her supposed birth. How could I have known that the tiny child in my hands was my own daughter? Or Josie? Jane? How could I not feel it? But I didn't know because I trusted Alex. I trusted him when he was surprised when I first told him that my children had died and that I had been pregnant, and I trusted him when he introduced the girls as Lilith's children.

In that moment, bitterness welled up in my throat. Alex stole my daughters. For years, I watched Lilith raise them, how the girls called her "Mom" and looked at Alex with the innocent trust of children who knew nothing of the darkness hidden inside him.

And Roman... Did he even know what was happening? Did he suspect even a little that I had been pregnant at all? That thought pierced me like a knife. Roman, who had been so distant, absorbed in his own world. Did he care enough to question it? Yes, and I wondered how a man would react to the fact that I hadn't even said I was pregnant. The lie must have been so convincing that, like me, he was blind to the truth. Only two different truths, but both connected to the triplets.

When I learned I was pregnant, I wanted to be happy, but alas, at that moment, Roman was already withdrawn. I didn't even know how to tell him or rather when to tell him since I hardly saw him... almost didn't see him at all. My belly, even at seven months pregnant, was small, and it was easy to hide under clothing. And if he tried to touch me, I pulled away. And when I left to give birth, he was off on some business trip again.

But that's not the worst part.

The worst part was that the girls knew nothing. To them, I was just Aunt Melissa, a kind but distant figure in their lives. They had no idea that their real mother had been right there with them all along, loving them from a distance, unaware of the true nature of their bond.

My heart ached with this heaviness. I was robbed of the chance to be their mother, but now that I knew the truth, I would do everything I could to get them back. They were mine.

I closed the email and opened the photos, finding the one I needed, looking at the family picture I had taken not so long ago. For "not so long ago," that was a year ago. The faces of my nieces—Gianna, Josie, and Jane—smiled back at me. They looked so happy, so content. Thoughts whirled in my head, but I couldn't fully process them. Do I imagine it, or do they now really resemble me?

I shook my head, disbelief enveloping me. But as I thought about it more, it dawned on me: it wasn't that the truth was hidden—I just hadn't allowed myself to see it. My perception of reality had been shaped by what I was told, by what I expected from the world around me. People see what they want to see, what they are prepared for. And I, more than anyone else, was an example of that.

Because when I first met the girls, they were introduced to me as my brother Alex's children and his wife Lilith. I had no reason to doubt it. Alex was my brother, a person I trusted despite their complicated relationship. And Lilith... seemed cold but loving enough, or rather loving towards her children. The girls always appeared happy with their "parents." So why should I think otherwise?

Now I realized that I had been blind—because it was easier that way. I mourned the loss of my own children, the triplets I thought had died at birth. If I had ever entertained the thought that Gianna, Josie, and Jane could be my children, I would have had to confront a truth far more painful than anything I could imagine or that had already happened. The loss I had come to terms with would have turned into a different, sharper pain—the realization that my children had been taken from me.

And here we are, because sooner or later, the truth reveals itself, showing their thorns.

I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair. We see people as we expect to see them. Alex was my brother, a person who, despite all his flaws, would never commit such a deep and cruel betrayal as I believed. I had placed him in a box labeled "family," and in that box, there was no room for such lies. But now, looking back, I could see that the signs were there. The way Alex always overly protected the girls, Lilith's coldness, the strange looks I sometimes caught from both of them. But I only noticed and realized all of this too late.

But here's the thing, I thought bitterly: there's an even bigger problem when I imagined the identity of my loved one. Trust. My trust in Alex clouded my judgment. I didn't want to believe; I never even thought he was capable of such betrayal, so I never allowed myself to doubt his actions. And the girls... I loved them so much, but as my nieces. I didn't let myself think they could be something more because I had already come to terms with their loss. More precisely, with the loss of my children. That is, them. God. What the hell? This isn't a soap opera, so why the hell is everything so complicated?

That's what understanding is. The truth had always been right in front of me, but I was too blind, too afraid to see it.

I leaned against the wall and smirked, recalling my bathroom adventure. It turned out that everything could change for the worse in an instant. Or for the better. Or it just changes.

My thoughts were still spinning around the shocking discovery. I thought about Gianna, Josie, and Jane. It was hard for me to breathe all this time around them, trying to comprehend what Dr. Graves's letter meant. These three girls. Unbelievable. My own flesh and blood, children who had been dead to me for so many years.

Now it was impossible to look at them the same way. Before, I saw them simply as my brother's daughters—these bright, energetic girls who filled any room they entered with life. They were a constant reminder of the family ties that bound me to Alex, despite all the tension and secrets between us. But now, knowing the truth, everything had changed. These girls were mine.

Gianna, with her unwavering independence, resembled me more than I ever understood. Her stubbornness, the fire in her eyes when she defended herself or her sisters—this was a reflection of myself, a trait that had helped me survive the toughest moments in my life. How could I not have noticed? That question had come up too often in the last few hours, which was not surprising. How did I not see myself in Gianna—in how she carried herself, how she fought for what she believed was right?

Josie, on the other hand, was soft and kind, always caring for everyone around her. She had such tenderness, but at the same time, she could be cruel, which reminded me of Roman, her father. Roman had always been calm, able to soothe loved ones but could frighten strangers just by his presence. Josie had the same trait, the same ability to make the world more chaotic simply by offering her crooked smile. And now I could not help but see Roman in every movement of Josie.

And Jane, the youngest because she was born fifteen minutes later, and the quietest of the three, had always remained a mystery to me. She was observant, watching everything around her with her big, thoughtful eyes, rarely saying anything, but always noticing everything. Now, knowing that Jane was my daughter, I understood that quiet strength. Jane was not just shy or withdrawn—there was power in her. There was a silent determination in her that spoke louder than words. She was a blend of the two of us into one whole.

Looking at them today, I saw parts of myself and Roman in each of the girls. Something I had never noticed because I had not allowed myself to doubt the story that Alex had created.

But they were my daughters. And from this moment on, I could never look at them the same way again. They were not just Alex's girls—they were a part of me. And I would do everything in my power to protect them and reclaim the time that had been stolen from them. They deserved to know the truth. And as their mother, I would make sure to tell them everything. Probably. I no longer knew what was right and what was wrong.

But something strange coursed through my veins that couldn't be explained. What might be called—waking the mama bear.

Especially when I sat in that dimly lit office, watching the psychologist and the caregiver exchange polite, clinical phrases about what was "best for the children." I felt my pulse quicken the moment my hands clenched into fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms.

My mind was racing; every word they spoke pushed me closer to the edge. I knew I had a short temper—I often acted before I thought—but today, in front of the daycare, I mentally promised myself to stay calm, to wear a mask of self-control. I was good at doing that when needed.

But this? Listening to strangers, who didn't know me, talk about what was best for my children was unbearable. We were talking about Gianna, Josie, and Jane as if they were just cases, problems to be solved with neatly prescribed solutions. They had no idea about the storm raging inside me. They spoke of structure, discipline, about how to manage the girls' emotional states, while I sat there feeling my heart shatter into pieces.

I reminded myself to breathe, to stay calm. My goal was clear: I had to regain custody of my daughters, and if I lost control at that moment, it would only complicate the task. But with each moment of silence, the tension inside me grew, like a fire that was burning hotter and hotter, threatening to consume me. These people, as well-intentioned as they might be, completely missed the point. They didn't understand the bond I truly had with the girls and the depth of what was happening. How could they understand? They were strangers.

"Hold on," I repeated to myself. "Just a little longer." I felt the mask beginning to slip, and I knew Roman felt it too. I was their mother, not a research subject. I was fighting for my children's lives, for their safety, while these people talked about emotional stability as if it could be measured by graphs and scores.

And then one of them—I couldn't even remember who—said something about "Maybe I should also go through a course." That was the last straw. My mask cracked. My hands unclenched, and I abruptly got to my feet, wanting to kill.

But when strong hands grabbed me then, I truly felt that same safety I had always sensed even from afar. But in that moment when I felt it no longer—after I had been kidnapped—that was why I ran away.

And when that echoed through the room, sharply contrasting with the measured tone of the professionals across from me. Their eyes widened, clearly shocked, with each of my words, but I didn't care.

I was done playing these games, done pretending to be calm and collected when everything inside me screamed that I needed to protect my girls.

I could be calculating when it was necessary. I could wear a mask, smile politely, and play my role if it meant achieving what I wanted. But at that moment, the weight of injustice was too great. They had already taken too much from me—my children, my family—and I wouldn't allow them to sit there and claim that someone else could do better.

Not this time. And not when I had been sitting on the knees of one of the most dangerous people in the city.

I suddenly opened my eyes, tearing myself away from the memories of the day, and detached myself from the wall. Damn, I had completely forgotten that these two idiots in my life had decided to measure their manhood once again.

I was standing in the hallway, watching as Alex and Roman confronted each other once more. It was a scene I had seen too many times, played out in numerous variations, but the essence was always the same—two men caught in unspoken rivalry. They never understood each other, and as long as I could remember being around them, the tension between them only intensified each year. Well... if we put it mildly—the Italian and Russian mafia don't get along very well.

Alex's voice sounded first—sharp and cutting—as he shouted another accusation, something about Roman's weakness, that he had always been too soft. Honestly, I was already confused about what they were arguing about as my brother pushed Roman against the wall.

Roman, standing still with a clenched jaw, responded, but his words were soaked in quiet fury rather than the loud anger that Alex preferred. What were they even talking about?

Melissa's heart sank as she watched them. It was like watching a movie playing on repeat, the same bitter scene with slightly changed words. She had lost count of how many times she had stood in this very spot, watching her brother and husband tear each other apart.

She leaned against the wall, trying to remember when it all started. Was it when Roman first refused to play by Alex's rules? Or when Alex accused Roman of not being able to handle things like a man, of not being able to protect those he loved? The details had blurred now, merging into a whirlwind of angry words and hostile glances.

At first, I wanted to intervene as I always did. Every time they fought, I would step between them, desperately trying to recreate a truce, to make them see reason. I truly believed that if I found the right words, I could build bridges between them. Okay, a little bridge. But with each attempt, I realized I was just wasting my strength. Neither of them wanted to listen. They didn't need peace—they needed victory. And even more—they needed war.

And so, over time, I stopped trying to fix it. I became an observer, standing by as their war continued.

But this time, everything felt different. I wasn't sure if it was because of what I now knew—that my brother had taken my children, had lied to me for so many years—or because Roman had been so estranged, so absent from my life for so long. Whatever the reason, I looked at what was happening in front of me differently. It was no longer just a quarrel between two men for dominance. It was a battle between two men who had betrayed me, each wanting to control my life.

Alex's words pierced the air like a blade. "Do you think you can just stand there and act like you have everything under control, Roman? You couldn't even keep your family together. You hurt my sister and now you're trying to intrude into the lives of my daughters." My fingers clenched.

Roman's face twitched, but he stayed silent for too long. That pause gave Alex everything he needed. He stepped forward again, his voice dropping lower but taking on a threatening tone with each step. "You never deserved her. You never protected her. You don't even know how to be a husband, let alone be an uncle to my kids."

Romy's face hardened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a moment, I thought he would hit Alex, but instead, he spoke, his voice cold and restrained. "You have no right to speak to me about my family, Alex. And she is my family. No matter what happens between us, Melissa will always be my family. And if she wanted me to be here—damn it, I will be."

Alex laughed, a sharp, bitter laugh. "Seriously? She's my family, Roman. I've always been here, even when you weren't."

And there it was again. The same battle for me, as if I were a prize they were fighting over. As if each of them had some right to me that the other was determined to take away.

I felt anger rise in my chest. I was no longer a pawn in their game. I wasn't a fragile thing that needed to be protected. Not now. Not after everything I had learned.

For years, I stood by, allowing them to fight over me, letting them dictate certain terms of my life, my decisions, trying to be that bridge that kept everyone from war. But now, standing here under the weight of the truth, I realized I had had enough. I was no longer going to watch them tear each other apart, pretending it had anything to do with me.

It had nothing to do with me. It was about their own egos, their need to dominate and control. And I no longer wanted to be a part of it. Not of Roman's or Alex's.

My brother's voice broke through my thoughts again. "Do you think you can just walk away now, Roman? That she'll still be with you after all this? After you crushed her?"

I stepped forward then, unable to remain silent any longer. Both men turned to me, surprised by my sudden movement. Just like that, bitches.

"I'm not staying with either of you." I said, my voice firm. "Not anymore. I've had enough of both of you. Not during the plan, not afterward, I won't be around either of you."

Roman's eyes widened slightly, while Alex simply narrowed his gaze, trying to understand what I would say next.

"I've watched the two of you argue for years, and it's always the same. You both think you're right, and neither of you cares what harm you cause. But this isn't about me. This is about the two of you and your inability to see beyond your own egos." I took a deep breath, my words hanging in the silence. "But I'm no longer going to be part of this."

"We'll talk about this later!" Alex shouted. "Don't you dare yell at my wife!" Now Roman had become even more hostile. "Potomu chto radi neye ya gotov umeret', ya ne pozvolyu tebe prichinit' yey bol'." He hissed in Russian, clearly not wanting anyone to understand him. But I did.

And my breath hitched as Alex's fist was already flying toward Roman. And there I went again, making that mistake. Or maybe his words affected me so much. Because without thinking, I moved forward, my body acting faster than my mind. I stood between them, pushing Alex aside, wrapping my arms around Roman's neck, shielding him with my body. My hands pressed against his chest as if I were trying to root myself in this chaos.

"I said—stop this nonsense at the girls kindergarten!" I yelled at Alex, not looking at him, my voice trembling with rage and fear. "You no longer have the right to protect me, Alex. This is no longer your battle!" My head turned to see him.

Alex froze, his fist still raised, his eyes narrowed as if my words hit harder than any blow. For a moment, only our ragged breathing could be heard in the room. Roman stood still behind me, his muscles tense under my fingers, but he didn't push me away. "Don't you dare protect me with your body anymore, krasavica." He whispered, but I continued to focus on my new traitor.

My brother slowly lowered his hand, the fury in his gaze replaced by something darker. "You don't understand." He hissed, his voice barely audible. "I've always protected you, Melissa. And I always will."

"No." I replied firmly. "You controlled me. That's different. And you know why."

As those words left my mouth, I barely had time to prepare when Alex roughly grabbed my arm, pulling me into the hallway. His grip was too strong; I winced at it but didn't pull away. Roman stepped forward, a possessive spark flashing in his eyes, but I shook my head.

"Don't follow me, Roman." I said, making it clear that whatever was about to happen next didn't concern him. Not for now. "Go home."

He frowned, his eyes filled with so many questions, but after a moment, he nodded. The silence that followed was suffocating, and it took all my self-control to keep moving as Alex dragged me around the corner.

As soon as we were out of sight of Roman, he pinned my body against the wall, his body looming over me, leaving no chance of escape. His eyes blazed with such fire that my heart tightened.

"What are you doing, Melissa?" he growled, his face just inches from mine. "Why are you protecting him? What the hell are you doing bringing him here?"

I met his gaze, feeling determination in every fiber of my being. "I'm not protecting him." I pushed him slightly away. "I'm protecting myself. And he is part of me." Did I really just say that?

Alex's grip on my wrist tightened, his breath scorching my skin. "You're making a mistake. You don't know what's at stake here."

"I do." I finally broke free from his grasp. "I know more than you think, Alex."

His eyes flickered for a moment, uncertainty flashing in them, but it quickly disappeared. "Then why are you playing this game? What are you hiding?" Me? Am I hiding something?

I struggled to swallow the urge to throw a hysterical scene right there, my thoughts racing wildly. I couldn't do it. Not here. Not now. "Take the kids to your mansion." I commanded, my voice unexpectedly calm. "We need to talk."

***

The ride to the Italian mafia mansion was painfully quiet, the tension between us palpable. As soon as we entered, Alex wasted no time. He led me straight into his office, slamming the door so hard that the frame creaked.

"You'll tell me what's going on right now." He demanded, pacing the room like a caged beast. "Right now."

I stood by the table, arms crossed over my chest. I tried to remain calm, but my pulse raced. "Why did you hide my children, Alex?" I asked firmly, unwilling to waste time on frivolities.

Alex stopped, his back to me. He remained silent for a long time, and I could see his shoulders tense. Finally, he turned to me, his expression unreadable. "I did what I had to do."

"That's not an answer." I took a step closer. "Why did you take them from me? Why did you lie?"

"Because you weren't ready." Alex shot back sharply. "You wouldn't have coped. You were with Roman, and he—he would have destroyed you if he found out. You gave birth in secret from him."

I blinked, my mind reeling. "So you decided to destroy me yourself? You thought hiding my children from me was the solution?" There it was. My voice was much louder than I had planned.

"I thought I was protecting you." His voice softened, almost pleading. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You were wrong." I whispered. "You had no right to do that."

Alex stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "Maybe I was wrong. But the past can't be changed, Melissa. What's done is done."

I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. "When I leave Roman, I will get them back. They are my children, Alex. I will not let you keep them from me anymore."

Alex's face hardened, his jaw clenched. "Do you think it's that simple? You can't just walk away from Roman's life and take the kids. He will fight for them if he finds out about them."

"I don't care." Emotion rang in every letter. "I will fight for them. I will fight for them with everything I have."

"And the girls? What will happen if they find out I'm not their dad? That Lilith isn't their mom? Do you really want to ruin their lives?"

"Me?" I struck his cheek, making his head jerk to the side. "You did that... a long time ago." I caught a solitary tear with my finger. "Listen, you lost your sister today, and then you'll lose the kids too."

I turned toward the door, but he grabbed my elbow. "Stop."

"Tell me who told you I was pregnant? Who was your informant in the mansion? Natasha or Leah? Only they knew." I didn't even turn my head to him.

"Leah." I thought so, but still bitterly smiled. "Now let me go, Alex."

"Mel..."

"Let me go." When he actually did, I was really leaving.

I was breaking my bond. Just like I did with Mom, now with him. It hurt, but being around a traitor was not my game.

"You do this because I betrayed you, but what about Roman?" My body froze right by the door. "You are obsessed with him. You have an addiction. You always want to leave, but you never go far. So do you really think it was better to leave the kids?"

"Maybe it wasn't better. But it wasn't your decision to make."

I reached for the doorknob of Alex's office. I needed to get out; I needed space to breathe. But when I opened the door, my heart dropped to my feet. Standing before me were my triplets—Gianna, Josie, and Jane—each with a small suitcase.

The bravest, Gianna, stepped forward, her eyes full of pain. "I heard everything." she whispered.

My throat tightened as I knelt to their eye level, tears stinging my eyes. "Gianna, sweetie..."

"No!" She interrupted me, her voice trembling. "Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you come for us? If you're our mom?"

Behind her, Josie and Jane were also on the verge of tears, holding onto each other, looking at me and then at Alex.

Alex stepped forward, his voice softening. "Girls, this is complicated..."

I cut him off. "No, Alex. No more lies."

I turned back to the children, my heart breaking as I saw their tear-filled eyes again. "I'm so sorry." I whispered. "I didn't know. But now I'm here, and I will never leave you again."

Gianna shook her head, betrayal ringing in her voice. "You should have come earlier. You should have protected us from the people who lied to us."

My chest tightened with pain. "I know." My voice trembled. "But now I will protect you. I will protect you until the end."

"But..." The girls turned towards Alex's voice.

"You're not our dad. You lied to us. Dad and Mom are not ours. We're leaving with Mel. We don't want to be here anymore."

And as the other two nodded and hugged me, I realized my plan seemed to have already been ruined. But feeling their small bodies trembling in my arms, I understood one deep and painful truth: it was no longer about me. It never had been.

I had to stop thinking about myself. I had to stop thinking about Roman, about Alex, about the tangled web of betrayal and lies that had consumed my life. Now the only thing that mattered was to protect my children, whatever the cost.

I knew what I had to do. It was time to tell Roman everything. Time to finally face the past.