Page 32 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

“Unforgivable doesn’t begin to cover it.” My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails digging half-moons into my palms. Iwelcome the pain which keeps me from slapping him. “You stole everything I had. My mother’s inheritance. Money meant for my education.” I step closer, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Money she saved her entire life to leave me. Do you have any idea what these last weeks have been like?”

“I was desperate,” he pleads, taking another step toward me. He reaches for me, but I jerk away. “The debts... They were going to hurt me. I thought I could win it back.”

The rage I’ve suppressed for weeks bubbles to the surface. “Do you have any idea what you did to me? I almost lost everything.”I had to marry a stranger in thebratvato save myself.Somehow, I hold back those words.

“Let’s talk,” he says, desperation edging into his voice. “I can fix this.”

A harsh laugh escapes me. “Like hell you can.”

“I have a plan,” he insists, grabbing my wrist. His fingers dig into my skin. “I can get the money back. All of it. Just give me another chance.”

The familiar words hit me like a slap. Another chance. Another plan. Another empty promise. How many times had I heard those same assurances during our relationship? How many times had I believed him?

The purr of a powerful engine draws my attention to the street when a sleek black Mercedes pulls up to the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the setting sun. The car stops directly in front of us, and the driver’s door opens. Damir steps out gracefully. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders, the fabric clearly expensive and tailored perfectly to his muscular build. His dark hair is styled impeccably, and hisgaze locks onto me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe for a second.

Casey’s grip on my wrist tightens painfully. “Who the hell is that?”

I glance at his face and watch as recognition dawns. His complexion turns ashen, and he drops my wrist as if burned.

“You know who he is?” I ask quietly. It seems like Casey must recognize Damir from somewhere, or in some context, though Damir shows no sign of knowing him.

Damir says nothing. He simply walks around to the passenger side and opens the door, his gaze never leaving mine. The invitation is clear.

Casey grabs my arm again. “Elena, don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing. That man is dangerous.”

“More dangerous than you?” I pull my arm free. “You destroyed my life, Casey. You took everything from me and disappeared.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, desperation making his voice crack. “Please. Just hear me out. We can start over. Go back to how things were.”

For a fleeting moment, I imagine it. Going back to our apartment and pretending none of this happened. Letting Casey sweet-talk me into forgiveness, into believing his promises of change. It would be so easy to fall back into old patterns.

Then I remember the crushing weight of discovering our account emptied. The humiliation of begging for extensions on my tuition. The nights spent crying, wondering how I could have been so blind. Having to accept a marriage of convenience, andnow having a husband who won’t let me go so easily even if I were inclined to try again with Casey.

I’m not. I know exactly what a future with Casey would look like—empty, miserable, and full of excuses and broken promises.

I yank my wrist free and turn toward the car. Toward Damir.

“Elena, wait,” he calls after me, panic in his voice.

I don’t look back. Each step toward Damir feels like shedding a layer of my old life. By the time I reach the car, I’m lighter somehow, feeling unburdened.

Damir’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a gleam of approval in his eyes as I slide into the passenger seat. He closes the door behind me, the solid thunk sealing me inside the luxurious interior.

Through the window, I see Casey standing frozen on the sidewalk, his mouth open in shock. Damir rounds the car and gets in beside me, clicking the door shut with finality. He completely ignores my sniveling ex.

“Perfect timing,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected.

His lips curve into a knowing smirk as he puts the car in drive. “I saw him approach you from across the street.” His deep voice fills the car’s interior. “I considered intervening sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to see what you would do.” He navigates smoothly into traffic, leaving Casey diminishing in the side mirror. “Whether you would go back to him.”

The leather seat cradles me as I lean back, processing the encounter. “Never.”

“Good girl.”

After a moment, I say, “He seemed to know you.”

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