Page 88 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

How much time do I have before Nikolai makes his move? How much time does Casey have left once Damir finds him?

I save the recording and upload it to his chart before staring blankly at the screen, no longer seeing Mateo’s medical information. Instead, I see Casey’s face, not as he was when I last saw him outside the hospital, desperate and pleading, but as he was when I thought I loved him. When I trusted him.

Damir promised me I would have the final say in Casey’s fate. A death sentence from my lips would be all it takes. The thought should horrify me since I took an oath to do no harm, to heal, and to save lives. Yet when I think about Casey threatening our baby, something primal rises within me. This isn’t about revenge for stealing my inheritance anymore. This is about protecting my family.

If Damir asked me right now what should happen to Casey, I know what my answer would be. The clarity of it surprises me. There’s no conflict and no moral dilemma. Just certainty. Caseymade his choice. He chose Nikolai. He chose to target a pregnant woman. He chose to betray me again.

My phone buzzes with a text from Liv: “Still doing lunch? Cafeteria in 10?”

I glance at the time and realize I’m already running late. I quickly sign off and gather my things. As I walk toward the elevator, I try to push aside the darker thoughts. For the next hour, I’ll just be Elena having lunch with her friend, not Elena the target. Definitely not Elena the judge, jury, and executioner of her ex-boyfriend’s fate.

The elevator doors open, and I step inside, pressing the button for the ground floor. A nurse joins me, nodding in greeting before focusing on her phone. The cafeteria will be crowded this time of day, but my security detail will be watching from a discreet distance, which is reassuring.

The elevator stops at the second floor, and more staff pile in. Someone bumps against me, and I instinctively place my hand over my stomach. The gesture is becoming a habit now. When the doors open at the ground floor, I weave through the crowd toward the cafeteria. I spot Liv already at our usual table near the window, two trays in front of her. Her dark curls are piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’s still wearing her scrubs from her ICU shift.

“You’re late,” she says as I approach, pushing a tray toward me. “I got you the chicken salad and sparkling water, and before you ask, yes, I checked—no deli meat, no soft cheeses, and nothing on the pregnancy no-no list.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” I sink into the chair across from her, suddenly aware of how hungry I am. The secluded table in thecorner of the cafeteria offers us privacy from curious colleagues. “Sorry I’m late. I had a six-year-old with a broken arm.”

Liv waves off my apology. “How’s the kiddo doing?”

“Better now. I drew a T-Rex wearing a cast on his arm.” I stab a piece of chicken with my fork. “Kids are so tough. One minute, he’s crying, and the next, he’s planning his skateboarding comeback.”

“Speaking of tough...” Liv leans forward, lowering her voice. “How are you doing? Really?”

I take a long sip of sparkling water, buying myself time. The carbonation tickles my throat. “I’m okay. The morning sickness is finally easing up.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Liv’s eyes narrow. “You’ve been different since the ultrasound. Something’s on your mind.”

The cafeteria hums with activity around us, but I see Fydor standing near the entrance, pretending to study the menu board while keeping watch. Valeriya is in the corner, subtly watching the room while pretending to read a magazine. I assume someone else is in the parking garage. Maybe Lev since Damir mentioned sending extra security.

“It’s a boy,” I say finally, my voice soft. “Just like my mom always said I’d have one day.”

Liv’s face breaks into a wide smile. “That’s amazing. Congratulations!”

I nod, trying to match her enthusiasm, but something must show on my face because her smile fades.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I simply stare down at the counter, watching a drop of water slide down the side of my glass.

“I love him,” I whisper.

Liv doesn’t even blink. “Yeah. I figured.”

“Not the baby. Well, yes, the baby too, but...” I push a piece of lettuce around my plate. “Damir. I love him.”

Liv reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I know that too.”

My stomach twists. “I want commitment. Safety. If he won’t leave the mafia, I don’t think I can do this.” Having a literal death sentence hanging over me because my death could hurt Anton brings that into sharp relief.

Liv nods, thoughtful. “So, ask him.”

I press a hand to my stomach. “It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing worth having ever is.” Liv takes a bite of her sandwich. “Tell me what’s going on. The full version, not the sanitized one.”

Everything I’ve been holding inside presses down on me. I glance around to make sure no one is within earshot.

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