Page 36 of Mafia King's Bride

“Just because our parents didn’t understand love doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It might not start out that way, but sometimes, love hides in the places we least expect.”

She smiles, but her words hang in the air, heavy and pointed.

My thoughts immediately turn to Ana—whether I like it or not. Yelena’s earlier comments from this morning replay in my head, a mental loop I can’t shake off.

Is there something more beneath all the tension? All the fights?

I sigh inwardly, irritated by the questions bubbling up that I’d rather ignore. I’m not the type to believe in happiness or love, especially not for someone like me.

But still…

Is it possible? Could there be pockets of happiness, even for me?

The thought lingers, uncomfortably lodged in my mind as I try to push it aside.

Focus on the work. Always focus on the work.

THIRTEEN

ANA

I drag myself out of the car, my feet heavy as lead as I make my way to the graveyard behind the gated fence. Every step feels like I’m wading through thick mud, weighed down by the endless tears I’ve cried and the hollow ache in my chest. I don’t even know how I made it here, but somehow, I keep moving.

I push open the gate with trembling fingers and let my legs carry me to the headstone. The graveyard is quiet, almost untouched, the few bodies buried here belonging to people connected to my family. It’s a private place, away from the world.

It’s where my father buried my mother. Every year since I was two, he brought me here to visit her.

“Mamochka.” I fall to my knees, letting my body crumble in front of her grave. The tears spill freely now, rolling down my cheeks as my shaking hands brush the dirt off the headstone.

Maria Petrov. Mother and Wife. Gone, but never forgotten.

I trace the letters with my fingertips, as if touching her name might somehow bring her closer to me.

“Mom.” My voice cracks, choking on the lump of sorrow lodged in my throat. “I wish you were here. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Papa won’t see me. He’s avoiding mebecause of what he made me do—because of this marriage to Dmitri Orlov.”

The sobs rack my body again, my chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath.

“I’m alone,Mamochka. Completely alone, and I don’t know what to do. If you were here, maybe everything would be different. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so...trapped.”

I press my forehead against the cold marble of her grave, feeling the icy stone against my burning skin. “It’s not fair,” I cry, my voice barely above a whisper. “I never asked for this. I never wanted this life. But I’m stuck in it. I’m a prisoner, and no one cares.”

The sobs tear through me, leaving me shaking as I curl up against the gravestone, wishing more than anything that my mother could reach through the earth and hold me, comfort me the way only a mother could.

“I miss you so much, Mom,” I whisper into the silence, my voice dissolving into raw, broken weeping. “Please...if you can hear me, send me something. A sign. Anything. I just need you.”

But the air remains still, the weight of my grief too much to bear.

By the timeI get back home, it feels like I’ve been hollowed out. The grief still clings to me like a second skin, making every movement feel like I’m dragging an anchor behind me. I barely make it through the door before Yelena’s voice reaches me.

“Anastasia?” Her tone shifts from light to concerned as soon as she catches sight of me. She rushes over, her face full of worry. “What happened? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

I try to speak, but my throat is too tight, my emotions too raw. My legs buckle beneath me, the strength drained from my body.

“Yelena...” I choke on her name, tears blurring my vision again.

Before I collapse completely, she’s there, holding me tight, her arms wrapping around me like a lifeline.

“It’s okay,” she soothes, guiding me to the couch. “You don’t have to say anything yet. Just sit down and breathe.”

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