That day.

That dreadful day, that broke many and united many.

But the ones that were affected the most were merely kids.

Two boys, clutching onto their sister like she was the angel who could make everything okay. Like she was the one who could reverse everything and undo most things that happened. Like she was the one who could stop their father from going to that meeting.

Having lost their parent at the mere age of eleven, the boys were drowned in their tears. Holding each other's hands, while holding their sister's coat in their other, they let out all the pain that was slowly building inside.

Despite flowing out tears of pain, it wasn't decreasing. In fact, it was increasing to the point those little souls couldn't handle.

The twenty-one-year-old girl held them close. Her hold so tight, her arms ached from the pressure she was putting on the two kids. The two kids who were drenching her shoulders with their tears, while hers fell on their shoulders.

The heirs to the Russian Mafia curled up into her, pained and miserable.

Aleksandr Petrov. The Russian Mafia don had died in a meeting. A suicide bomber being the cause of the attack. He barely got out of the building but the blast had him engulfed in its claws.

Just his dead body returned.

The two heirs, who were still in training turned to their older sister for comfort when their mother lost all the control she had. Their mother let go of that rope tying her to all the gracious and emotionless front she had to put on and collapsed to the floor wailing.

The Petrov mansion bore a heavy silence, the shock of what happened and the cries of the wife that lost her husband, the kids who lost their father, somehow bowing absorbed by the thick silence. It was deafening. Even outside the mansion, Aleksandr Petrov’s kingdom remained silent, everyone mourning the loss of the considerate leader.

Footsteps echoed in her head and the girl looked up from the raven mops of hair before her. She put the boys down and stood up when two men entered the room. "Father," she acknowledged, with a nod of her head.

Nikolai Petrov, younger brother to Aleksandr Petrov and father to Anastasia. He should've been next in line for the throne, but for some reason, he wasn’t the one getting crowned.

"You have to take over, Anastasia," he said. A sigh escaped his mouth as he looked at the older man who entered behind him. His father and Anastasia's grandfather.

"Pardon?" The girl said, not believing what she heard.

"The boys are still young. We can only hand over the Mafia to someone capable. The only person is you, my child. You will have to take Aleksandr's place and lead the Mafia," her grandfather said.

The tall old man stood proudly in the room while announcing the next leader. He was just announcing his decision, everyone knew there was no negotiation to be done.

Viktor Petrov. The previous leader, respected by everyone and still holding all the power even after retiring a good while ago. His shoulder-length greying hair was pulled in a tight bun at the crown of his head as he gazed down at his grandkids, his gaze warm on an otherwise cold face.

"Yes, Grandfather," Anastasia said, accepting the decision instantly. She bowed her head while keeping her hands on the two boys' heads.

He moved towards his grandchildren. Putting his hands on the kids' heads, he nodded to his granddaughter. "I know you can do this, my child. Lead by your fierceness and kindness. I have faith in you."

Those words filled the girl with enough confidence. Receiving those words of encouragement from the head of the Petrov family was enough to tell her that she could indeed do justice to the position.

Viktor Petrov offered a small smile to his granddaughter. Patting the kids' heads, he stepped back. He turned to address Nikolai. "Follow me outside, Nikolai. We have a lot to discuss,” he said. He walked out followed by Nikolai.

Meanwhile, Anastasia was busy getting over the shock. Her heart was pounding fast as she sat down, pulling the two kids back onto her lap. "Let's get you something to eat, yeah?" She mumbled, pushing her worries away to focus on the kids.

"I don't want to." The younger twin, Jax Petrov mumbled into her neck.

"Please Jax," Anastasia pleaded. A new set of tears formed in her eyes when the older twin, Felix let out a gut-wrenching sob.

She stood up with the kids still in her arms. Adjusting the two on her hips, she started walking.

The boys had yet to lift their heads and face her. She was afraid she might start crying harder than she'd ever done if she saw their pained expressions now.

But what option did she have?

"What can I get you, Ma'am?" The maid asked, as soon as she entered the kitchen.

"Something warm for the kids, please," she replied, nodding her head slightly.

The maid kept her gaze to the ground as she nodded.

"Right away, Miss Petrov."

She scurried away, leaving the three there. Anastasia walked towards the sink, holding onto her two brothers tight. Setting the kids onto the counter, her hands found the edge of the counter to push herself up.

But the four little hands clutched onto her tightly.

"Please, Ana." Jax sniffled.

"I'm right here, baby." She soothed. That voice had never been heard by anyone except the two angels sitting before her.

Her cousins. The kids who resided in her heart, ever since they clutched her fingers tightly in their little hands, the day they were born.

The way they smiled every time they saw her; the way their eyes lit up at the mention of her name; the way their little souls held so much love for her, thawed her cold heart.

Jax slowly let go. So did Felix. The boys pulled back slightly to let her stand up.

Slowly opening their puffy eyes, they lifted their gaze to look at their sister.

Anastasia melted. There's no other explanation. Two sets of black teary eyes looking up at her, like their world revolved around her. She melted right there. The cold look on her face melted and fell into a bright smile on her face.

"There's my little angels," she cheered, bringing her hands up to their faces. She wiped away the tears gently with the pads of her thumbs.

Next, she grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water. Cleaning the boys' faces gently, she placed a kiss on their cheeks. She helped the boys get seated on the table and got seated between them.

As she was feeding the two, footsteps entered the kitchen.

"Miss Petrov," The man addressed, bowing slightly. "Your grandfather has requested your presence in his study."

"Feed the kids, please," Anastasia said, turning to the maid standing nearby.

She stood up without a word. The boys' gaze followed her as she stepped behind their chairs. Her hands found their hair. Running her hands through their soft hair, she bent down to place a kiss each on the boys' heads.

"Be good and finish your food, okay?" She said, to which the boys nodded violently.

No matter what, the cute little angels didn’t want to disappoint Anastasia.

Even if they felt cold at the lack of physical affection from her, they wanted to be good while she worked. She had to take over Father's work now.

Anastasia walked to her Grandfather's study warily. She didn't want to leave the kids alone but Viktor Petrov could not be disobeyed. It didn’t matter who you are.

Anastasia knocked twice on the hard wooden door that opened to his magical study.

It was magical. There were lights lined along the walls that looked like pretty lamps, huge bookshelves, and golden texture everywhere.

"You may enter, Anastasia." The powerful voice of Viktor Petrov was heard a second later.

The click of her shoes echoed through the warm room, as she approached her Grandfather’s desk.

"You called for me, Grandfather," she said, stopping to stand in the middle of the room.

"Yes, my child. This old man indeed did," Her grandfather said, rising from his huge cushioned chair.

That caused her to move her attention to the picture behind his chair. A big family picture with him and Grandma, with their children and grandchildren.

"You're not that old," stated Anastasia. That elicited a heavy chuckle from the strong old man, that seemed to echo off the walls, too.

"Have a seat, love," Viktor said, as he moved to sit comfortably on the couch.

The girl strode over to the couch, with her usual confident walk. Her powerful charm dripped into the aura around her, her head raised just perfectly to not look down at anyone but still be aware of the presence of those lower than her. That ignited a feeling of pride in the head of the family.

Taking a seat beside her grandfather, the girl leaned back. She snuggled into his side.

"I feel so bad, Grandpa," she mumbled, hiding her face into his shoulder.

Viktor wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her against him tightly. "I feel bad too. I lost my precious son," The man said, his voice thickening with emotions that threatened to come out. "I lost my kid that made me so proud. More proud than I've ever been of myself."

That caused a tornado of emotions to flow through both of them.

This was a private thing, where they were so informal with each other. Like a normal Grandpa-Granddaughter duo. For the sake of reminding everyone of the hierarchy, they had to be formal with their own family in front of those working there.

"How are the twins going to cope?" Anastasia sniffled. Hearing that sniffle, Viktor lifted his other hand and put it against the side of her face, stroking her cheek gently.

"They will. They have my blood running through their veins. They're going to survive through these bad times," he said. His hold tightened on his granddaughter. “I know how strong my kids are.”

"Is it okay if I cry a lot?" Anastasia asked next, choking back tears.

"Why would you ask that?" Grandpa questioned back.

"Because-" She choked back a sob. "Because I'm going to be the leader now."

"Why, don’t the leaders have hearts that get sad?" He asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Looking down at her, he felt his own eyes tear up. "They do. And they share their emotions without hesitance. In the company of those who share their heart with them."

Not a moment later, sobs started escaping her throat. With the tightening in his chest, tightened her grip on him as she cried her heart out.

She lost a father figure. She watched a parent lose his son. She had to watch two kids drown in sadness and pain which couldn't be cured instantly. Above everything, she was given such a responsibility at such a young age. The responsibility she wasn’t even sure if she was ready for.

Tightening his hold with one arm, Viktor lifted his other hand to wipe one lone tear away from his cheek.

After Anastasia was done pouring her heart's sadness, she pulled away slightly. Taking in her tear-stained snot-covered face, the old man chuckled.

"Now now. My little princess shouldn't look like this." He pulled his handkerchief out. "My little princess has a bright light that brightens every room to the point of blindness once she smiles."

He wiped her face clean, then booped her nose.

"Give your poor Grandpa a smile before he gets scared of the darkness."

That earned him a small chuckle from Anastasia. He smiled and put both of his hands on the sides of her face. Leaning forward, he placed a warm kiss on her forehead.

"I'm sorry for giving you so much responsibility, Annie. Please forgive your grandfather for this," he said, a small smile lingering on his guilty expression.

"You did nothing wrong, Grandpa. There's no need for forgiveness," she responded. "But I do have a question."

"Ask away, my child." The man encouraged.

"Why didn't you ask Father to take this responsibility?" She asked. Her eyes locked with his and she refused to break eye contact.

"You know your father." Was the simple reply she got.

Nikolai Petrov. The worthy heir, Aleksandr Petrov's younger brother. He was cunning. Unlike his brother, he let his greed take over and tried to look more for his profit.

Aleksandr Petrov was a great leader. Considerate, kind, and perfect in all ways yet a killer and a sadist for his Mafia and family. Nikolai, however, could burn their empire and not bat an eyelash, if it meant his profit. That's why he was an unworthy heir in the eyes of Viktor Petrov.

His daughter, however, was more like her uncle, in turn like her grandfather. Kind, considerate, full of emotions yet very hardworking and intelligent. She would make a great leader, indeed.

"Now, Annie," the man said when they had calmed down from their emotions. "I wanted to discuss some things with you."

She just nodded once, staring at the coffee table, while listening intently.

"First, I'm already proud of you and I know you will handle everything well." He smiled when a smile appeared on his granddaughter's face.

"The coronation is to be organized tomorrow. As we can't stay without a leader, we need to get through with transferring the title as soon as we can. You will have Aleksandr's manager to help you with everything. Is what I said till now, clear?"

"Yes, Grandfather," she replied politely, nodding her head.

"Good. Now the next thing is, you are to make sure that you're safe. Your safety is a must because the empire is entirely dependent on you. There's not a more capable leader to lead our clan. We can't afford to lose you."

"I will make sure I'm safe, Grandpa. I won't die before passing the title to my brothers.," she said. She lifted her gaze to look into his eyes. Her eyes held a shiny twinkle in them. Determination.

The man broke into a smile.

"That's my child. I'm proud of you, my love." He leaned forward to place another kiss on her forehead. "This old man is a little too worried about his little soldier."

"Don't be, Grandpa," the girl said, keeping her volume low; close enough to a mumble. "I will make you prouder."

"I know you will," the old man said. "All the best for your coronation."

She smiled and moved forward for another hug, which the man was more than happy to give. His heart thrummed softly against his ribs and a warm feeling settled in his stomach as he hugged his child to his chest.

The same chest, that yet again puffed up with pride, the very next day, when the coronation ceremony took place.

"It is with a heavy heart that we are holding this urgent coronation ceremony for the next heir to the throne of demised Don Aleksandr Petrov."

There was a heavy silence that day, that weighed on everyone. The title was going to Nikolai Petrov's offspring. Everyone had their worries and fears about that. Nikolai had his terror in the underworld.

"Please welcome the new leader of the Russian Mafia..." There was a dramatic silence, as every set of eyes zeroed in on Anastasia.

A tray with a red cushion was held before Viktor Petrov, who was standing beside the chair the new leader was sitting on.

As soon as his fingers touched the platinum chain, Anastasia stood up.

The platinum chain that was passed onto the next heir; the chain that managed to survive the blast. If it had gotten destroyed that day, memories of a long list of leaders would've been destroyed with it. The chain held more value than just being made of a precious material. It bore witness to decades of powerful rule.

Anastasia stood tall with her nose held high. The nose that lowered once her grandfather turned around so he could slide the chain onto her neck. She bowed her head as she felt the cold ornament sliding down her head and settling onto her neck.

"Donna Anastasia Vera Petrov!"