Page 91 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

With a start, I realize I’ve managed not to think about Damir’s search for Casey for at least an hour. With that, the worry returns, and I rush back to the ER, eager to find a distraction.

26

Damir

Needing some night air, I stand on the penthouse balcony, gripping the metal railing. The city is alive below, with cars moving like blood cells through veins as people go about their lives, unaware of the predators that walk among them. Unaware of me.

Elena is asleep inside, exhausted from her hospital shift and the emotional turmoil of bracing herself to face Casey but it not actually happening. I left her curled on her left side, one hand protectively placed over her stomach, where our son grows. The sight of her like that still stuns me into silence.

The glass door slides open behind me, but I don’t turn. Only one person would approach me without announcing himself first.

Anton steps beside me, two crystal tumblers in his hands. He offers one, and I take it, the familiar scent of premium Russian vodka rising from the glass. We drink in silence, the burn of alcohol warming my throat against the cool night air.

“Nothing,” he says finally, leaning his forearms on the railing. “We’ve checked every safehouse and every known associate. Casey’s disappeared completely.”

I swirl the vodka in my glass. “Nikolai’s sheltering him.”

“Most likely. My sources say there’s been unusual activity at three of his properties, but we can’t get close enough to confirm.”

“He knows we’re looking.”

“He’s expecting it.” Anton downs the rest of his drink. “The rat knows what happens to rats.”

I study the skyline, mentally mapping the illegal territories that have been mine for years. The nightclubs in Center City, the warehouses along the Delaware, the construction companies, the restaurants, and the import businesses. An empire built on blood and fear and calculation. An empire I no longer want.

“I’m getting out.” The words hang in the night air between us.

Anton goes still beside me. “What?”

“After Nikolai. After we end this, I’m done.”

He turns to face me fully, disbelief etched across his features. “Done with what exactly?”

“All of it.” I gesture toward the city. “The organization. The crime. This life. I’m stepping out of everything that’s not a legitimate business.”

Anton stares at me as if I’ve started speaking in tongues. “You’re thepakhan. You don’t just walk away.”

“I do if I have something better to walk toward.” I finish my vodka and set the glass on the small table beside me. “I’vealready started the transition. My legitimate holdings are being transferred to a new corporate structure—clean and untraceable to any criminal activities. I’m liquidating certain assets, creating new identities as a fallback if needed, and establishing security protocols for my family.”

“Your family,” Anton repeats, testing the word.

“Elena and my son.” The words feel strange on my tongue. Good strange. “They deserve better than this life.”

He shakes his head slowly. “And the organization? The territories? The men who’ve sworn loyalty to you?”

I turn to face him directly. “They’ll be yours.”

His glass nearly slips from his fingers. “Mine?”

“The connections. The territories. The loyalty structures—all of it because you’ll be thepakhan.”

Anton sets down his glass with deliberate care. “You can’t be serious.”

“When have you known me to joke about business?”

He runs a hand over his buzzed hair. “Never, but this is unprecedented. You don’t just hand over an empire.”

“I’m not handing it over to a stranger. I’m giving it to the only man I trust completely.”

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