LOGINFaina Green
Two months after my official decision, the inevitable moment arrived.
My first trip to Moscow.
It wouldn’t be long — only four days — but it was the first time I would leave the triplets for so long since they were born. My heart ached just thinking about it.
The day before the trip, I spent the entire afternoon in the nursery. Darya was in my la
Faina GreenThe following months passed in a blur of silent tension that only I seemed to feel with clarity.Darya was fifteen now. Fifteen years old, with a woman’s body beginning to take shape and the mind of a girl who still thought she could hide everything from me. I saw the small but impossible-to-ignore changes: the way she took longer to come down from her room after training, the phone she now kept face-down at all times, the smile that appeared on her face only when Michael entered the room.And the worst part: the way she was starting to lie.“It was just extra training, Mom,” she would say, her green eyes avoiding mine as she holstered her knife.And the lie was always the same — a phrase already memorized, one
Faina GreenTwo years had passed since Michael Holloway first walked through the door of our home, and the mansion had found a strange, fragile rhythm. The chaos of the quintuplets — now eight years old and twice as loud — still filled every hallway, but Darya had changed. At fourteen, my daughter was no longer the little girl who ran to me with scraped knees and endless questions. She had grown tall and graceful, with my curly blonde hair and Heros’s sharp green eyes. Her movements carried a quiet confidence that squeezed my chest with both pride and fear at the same time.It was on a cold autumn afternoon that I first noticed.I was in the winter garden, reviewing the latest reports Pyotr had sent from Moscow, when laughter drifted through the open doors. Darya and Michael were training again. They had been doing it m
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.
Lohan GreenThe moment I entered the bedroom, the sight of her stopped me in my tracks.Liora was sleeping peacefully in my
Heros GreenI noticed the vultures watching Liora with every step she took through the ballroom, their eyes crawling over her as if they had any right. Covetous. Curious. Hungry. The reason I came to this event was twofold: to remind everyone t
Zedekiah GreenI monitored the family’s operations from the office on the second floor, coordinating shipments with Igor and Jason while keeping an eye on our interests in Calabria. The soldiers moved like well-oiled machines under my commands, but my mind kept drifting upstairs—to her.Liora had s
Liora VossI descend the stairs after spending the entire previous day with Luther and find only the sadist downstairs. The house is wrapped in an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of his conversation in the kitchen. He’s speaking with the cook, a woman in her sixties whose prese







