LOGINLuther Green
I leaned against the wall of the office, arms crossed, eyes locked on the security footage playing across the screens. The cold blue light cast ghostly shadows over my face, but it did nothing to cool the burning rage inside me.
There she was.
Liora.
Lying by the pool in nothing but the ti
Faina GreenThe days following my conversation with Darya and the boys were marked by a silent tension that only I seemed to feel.The house routine continued, apparently normal. In the mornings, the quintuplets invaded the kitchen like a tiny hungry army. In the afternoons, training is in the basement. At night, long dinners with Pyotr telling old Bratva stories and my five husbands exchanging discreet glances every time Michael entered the room.I observed everything.Darya kept her promise… at first.During training, she kept her distance. She only spoke when necessary and only corrected his posture when Zedekiah or Heros asked. But I noticed the small details she thought no one saw: the way she smiled when Michael hit a difficult target, the slight blush on her cheeks when he praised her throw, the quick glances they exchanged when t
Faina GreenThe weeks following Michael’s arrival felt like walking on thin ice: beautiful on the surface, but dangerous with every step.I tried to keep the house routine as normal as possible. The triplets trained every afternoon in the basement, the quintuplets ran through the mansion like a pack of little wolves, and Pyotr stayed with us more than usual—as if he, too, sensed that something was about to change.It was a cold March afternoon when everything became sharper.I was in the second-floor library reviewing Bratva reports my father had sent when I heard laughter coming from the winter garden. I stood up and went to the window.Darya and Michael were there.She was showing him how to spin a training knife correctly. Michael watched attentively, but it wasn’t just the knife he was looking at. His
Luther GreenThe training basement always smelled of leather, metal, and effort. Today, the scent was mixed with childish laughter and the faint aroma of residual gunpowder from previous sessions. I observed everything from the back wall, arms crossed, analyzing every movement the way I did with any operation.Faina stood on the elevated platform, cup of tea in her hands, but I knew her mind wasn’t there. Her eyes kept returning to the corner where Michael Holloway watched everything in silence.I was watching the boy too.Fourteen years old. Hungry eyes. The posture of someone who had learned to survive on the streets. Good potential. But the way he looked at Darya… that bothered me deeply.Zedekiah opened the dark wooden box.
Faina GreenThe morning after Christmas dawned cold and gray, as if the sky knew something heavy was about to enter our home.I could still feel my body deliciously sore from the night before. Every step down the main staircase reminded me of Heros’s hands gripping my hips, Luther’s cock stretching my ass while Noah fucked me slowly, and Zedekiah’s hungry gaze as he came in my mouth. I smiled to myself, adjusting the thick wool sweater that hid the purple marks on my neck.In the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee, pancakes, and bacon filled the air. The quintuplets were already a mess—Yelena and Alicia fighting over a strawberry, Finnian trying to climb onto the counter, Alexander laughing, and Damon watching everything with that premature seriousness that worried me.
Faina GreenThe golden morning light streamed through the high windows of the living room, warming the Persian rug where my children sat. I watched the triplets — Darya, Yakov, and Vasily, full of their twelve-year-old energy — while explaining the system I had created years ago. But my mind, as always in these quiet moments, traveled six years into the past.I remembered the day after the birth of the five.The delivery was chaotic.Five babies. Five miracles crying at the same time in the operating room. Yelena and Alicia came first — the identical twins, dark hair and blue eyes. Then Finnian and Alexander, brown-haired like Luther, one with amber eyes like their father and the other with green eyes. Last came Damon, the quietest, his eyes already attentive t
Faina GreenSix years later.Snow fell gently over New York, turning the streets into a bright white postcard. It was Christmas Eve, and we had finally arrived at my parents’ house, just three blocks from our mansion. They had moved to the city permanently, unable to stay far from their grandchildren for long.The moment the car stopped, Darya was the first to jump out, her blonde curls bouncing as she ran through the snow.“Grandpa!” she shouted, throwing herself into my father’s arms. He was waiting on the snow-covered lawn.“Darya, careful! What did I say about running, especially in the snow?” Luther warned, but she was already in her grandfather’s arms, apologizing with a radiant smile.My children were now five and a half years old, and time really flew. I still remembered clearly the day I first held them—tiny, crying, and perfect.“Oh, let it go. It’s just snow. If she falls, it’s not the end of the world, right?
Faina GreenThe private jet touched down in New York just after ten at night. I could barely stay still in my seat. My heart was pounding—a mix of relief and longing that almost hurt physically.“Easy, malen'kaya,”
Faina GreenThe mansion’s library was immersed in a cozy twilight. Only the floor lamp beside the Chesterfield sofa lit the space, casting soft shadows over the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The scent of leather, old paper, and Noah&rsquo
Faina Petrov“Faina, you… don’t tell me that you… she is our daughter?” He asks, his face a mix of repulsion and disgust.“Fuck!” one of his brothers exclaims, shock evident in their expressions.“What? No!” I step away from him, fear
Faina PetrovWe came to the cabin since our house is now just charred rubble. Noah led us through an emergency entrance, well hidden in the backyard grass of the destroyed house. Seeing everything in ruins caused a deep pain in my chest.We decided to bring my father with his ey







