Mafia Princess: Escaping His Deadly Lie
For three years, a rare liver disease has been killing me. Through it all, my husband Julian has been my rock. Our last hope was a black-market liver, secured through a life-debt owed to my family, the Volkov Bratva.
But from my hospital bed, I overheard him promise that very liver to another woman.
It was for his mistress's mother.
I soon discovered he had a four-year-old daughter with her. Their family was established; I was just the placeholder. On a hidden security feed, I watched him in my dead parents' penthouse—a sacred place he forbade me from visiting—bouncing their child on his knee.
Then he fastened the diamond necklace he'd bought for my birthday around his mistress's neck.
The final blow came when I heard her whisper, "Just a little longer... the fever will do the rest."
He wasn't just leaving me. He was actively trying to kill me.
The love I had for him didn't just die; it turned to a cold, hard stone in my chest. The man whose devotion I never questioned now made my skin crawl with revulsion.
The next morning, I signed myself out of the hospital against medical advice. I left my wedding ring and the signed divorce papers on the entryway table, blocked his number, and walked out of our house without looking back.
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Chapter 3
Katerina POV:
The moment I heard his mistress's whisper-"Just a little longer...the fever will do the rest"-my eyes snapped open. The fever still raged, but my mind was a shard of ice-cold clarity. He wasn't just cheating. He wasn't just leaving me.
He was actively trying to kill me.
My fingers, clumsy and weak, fumbled for my phone. I sent a single, urgent text to my aunt, my thumb shaking so badly I could barely hit send.
Secure the organ. Julian will try to interfere. Trust no one.
When Julian returned, the sun was just beginning to streak the sky. He had a fresh cup of coffee in his hand and a well-rehearsed look of weary concern on his face. He sat by my bed, took my hand in his, and squeezed.
"You scared me last night, Kat."
A young nurse bustled in to check my vitals. She smiled brightly at Julian. "You two are couple goals, seriously," she gushed. "It gives the rest of us hope."
I felt a bitter, hollow laugh catch in my throat. I looked past her, to the patient in the room across the hall. An old woman with no family, no visitors. I envied her. At least her solitude was honest. She wasn't choking on a diet of shattered hope and expertly crafted lies.
I turned my head on the pillow to look at Julian. "I want to go to the penthouse," I said, my voice a dry whisper. "I want to see my parents' things."
For a split second, his mask slipped. A flicker of panic crossed his face before it was gone, replaced by that practiced concern. "Of course, baby. As soon as you're stronger. I'll... I'll have it cleaned for you first. Make sure it's perfect."
He meant he'd have the scent of another woman scrubbed from our sheets. He meant he'd erase every last trace of her.
The hours bled together in a feverish haze. Sometime that afternoon, a new patient was admitted to the room next door. Ava's mother.
And then, Ava herself appeared in my doorway.
She was beautiful, in a sharp, hungry way. She leaned against the doorframe, a smug smile playing on her lips as her eyes raked over my frail form in the hospital bed.
"You must be Katerina," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Julian has told me so much about you."
Before I could respond, there was a crash. Julian, who had been pouring me a glass of water, had dropped it. The glass shattered on the floor.
"Ava," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "Get out. Now." He grabbed her arm, his grip tight. "Hold your tongue, or I'll have you thrown out of this hospital myself."
A magnificent performance. The protective husband defending his frail wife from an intruder. He played the part to perfection.
I closed my eyes, feigning a sudden wave of exhaustion. I didn't need to see it. I could feel the heat of his lie, a toxic radiation.
My heart wasn't breaking anymore. It was calcifying.
Live, a voice inside me commanded, cold and clear as a winter dawn. Live and make them pay for every last lie.