Bound To The Devil

Chapter 108

Even Andre coughed at that, muttering, “God help me.”

Valarie leaned across the table. “Sebastian, do you even believe in marriage?”

“I believe in lifelong possession,” he said coolly, reaching to toy with a strand of her hair. “But I can compromise if there’s cake involved.”

Damien added dryly, “I’ll marry Luca the day your husband doesn’t look at me like I killed his childhood dog.”

Andre raised an eyebrow.

“…It was a metaphor, sir.”

Elena, ignoring the tension like a pro, sighed happily. “Just like old times. Me cooking. Misha brooding. Kids bantering. Only addition Is Gangsters in the dining room.”

Andre pinched the bridge of his nose. “You say that like it’s a sitcom title.”

“I’d watch it,” Luca muttered.

“So would I,” Valarie agreed.

There was laughter, awkward silences, too much duck, and Sebastian expertly flicking a cherry tomato off his suit like it personally offended him.

Andre simply leaned back and said to no one in particular, “I miss when I only had to worry about taxes.”

Everyone paused.

Elena smiled and poured him more tea. “And now you have two mafia sons-in-law.”

He glared at his plate. “This duck better be worth it.”

*"""""""""""""
: Roast Duck, Revealed Secrets, and Ruthless Fathers

Elena Ivanov, ever the queen of domestic chaos, beamed as she served another ladle of soup into Damien Volkov’s bowl.

He didn’t need the extra serving—but he accepted it with the silent intensity of a man who knew better than to argue with his lover’s mother.

Sebastian Vasillev, leaned back in his seat like he owned the house, swirling his wine with that smug look that made Valarie want to hurl the entire bottle at his head.

Andre Ivanov, at the head of the table, carved the duck with exaggerated precision. It was the kind of precision that said, I’m imagining all of your heads in place of this poultry.

And then it happened.

Elena turned to the group with a sunny smile and casually announced, “Oh! Did I tell you all? Luca’s pregnant.”

Silence.

Andre sat up straighter, eyes wide. “I’m sorry—he’s what?”

Luca nearly choked on his water. “M-Mom!”

Damien froze mid-bite, his knife paused in the air. He didn’t deny it. He just stared ahead like he was preparing for impact.

Which came, of course, in the form of Andre’s chair dragging back sharply. He stood slowly. “You mean to tell me… that this cold-blooded assassin over here—” He pointed a steak knife directly at Damien. “—got my son pregnant?”

Luca groaned, head dropping into his hands. “Why are you holding a knife while saying that?! DAD--- this is why I didn't told you earlier..”

Damien, ever stoic, met Andre’s gaze. “I intend to take full responsibility. He’s mine..and carrying my child.”

“Oh good,” Andre muttered sarcastically. “You’re a responsible psychopath. That makes it so much better.”

Elena grinned and patted Andre’s arm. “Don’t be dramatic, dear. Babies are a blessing.”