Page 61 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Antonova,” says Valeriya, her voice professional. “We have time.”

Mrs. Antonova. The name still gives me a little jolt every time I hear it. Not unpleasant. It’s just a reminder of how drastically my life has changed.

The hospital comes back into view, its windows glowing against the darkening sky. Fydor pulls up to the staff entrance, and Valeriya steps out first, scanning the area before opening my door.

“I’ll be quick,” I promise, hurrying inside with Valeriya close behind me.

The hospital corridors are quieter now with the day shift long gone. A few nurses nod as I pass, and I return their greetings with a smile. Four months ago, I worried that my marriage to Damir would change how my colleagues treated me. Some did distance themselves, like Justin, who requested reassignment to another attending, but most just accepted it as another fact about Dr. Elena Clarke—brilliant diagnostician, hard worker, and married to an enigmatic tech mogul.

The staff lounge is empty except for Liv, who sits at the table nursing a cup of coffee and scrolling through her phone. She looks up when I enter, her face brightening. “I thought you left already.” She sets down her phone. “Forget something?”

“My purse.” I head straight to my locker, spinning the combination lock. “I was so distracted by Dr. Patel’s praise that I walked out without it. Then seeing Casey… it took me a few minutes to realize.”

Liv’s eyes widen. “Casey was here? What happened?”

I pull my purse from the locker, checking that my wallet is inside. “He was waiting in the parking lot. Tried to tell me Damir is manipulating me.”

“The audacity.” Liv shakes her head, dark curls bouncing. “After what he did to you.”

I sit down across from her, suddenly needing a moment with my friend before heading home. Valeriya takes up position outside the door in the hallway, giving us privacy while maintaining her watch.

“I felt nothing, Liv.” I set my purse on the table. “When I saw him, it was nothing. No anger, no hurt. Just indifference. Okay, maybe some anger, but it was almost like an echo of it. I still want him to suffer, but he doesn’t affect me anymore.”

Liv studies my face. “That’s good, right? It means you’ve moved on.”

“I have.” I trace the edge of the table with my finger. “But I’ve moved on to something I never expected.”

“Damir.” She says his name carefully, without judgment.

I nod. “Tonight’s our four-month anniversary. He’s planning something special.”

“Four months.” Liv whistles low. “How’s that feel?”

“Surreal.” I lower my voice. “When we made this arrangement, it was just business. Six months of marriage to give him an alibi, and I’d get my tuition paid. Clean and simple.”

“And now?”

I hesitate, organizing my thoughts. “Now it’s complicated. He’s not who I thought he was.”

“You mean he’s not just a criminal?”

“He’s that too. I’m not deluding myself about what he does, but there’s more to him. He cooks these amazing breakfasts. He remembers every detail about my day. He has this whole history that made him who he is, and when he shares pieces of it with me...”

Liv leans forward. “You’re falling for him.”

It’s not a question. I don’t even deny it.

“I never meant to. It was supposed to be temporary. Clinical, but now I find myself thinking about what happens after our six months are up, and I don’t want…” A wave of nausea hits me without warning, so intense I clamp my hand over my mouth. The room spins slightly, and I push back from the table. “Bathroom,” I manage to say, rushing past Valeriya into the hallway.

I barely make it to the toilet before my stomach empties itself. I grip the cold porcelain, my body shaking with each heave. When there’s nothing left, I stay kneeling, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

The bathroom door opens, and Liv’s footsteps approach. She hands me a damp paper towel.

“Thanks.” I wipe my mouth, the cool moisture soothing against my skin.

“Elena.” Liv’s voice has that careful tone nurses use when delivering difficult news. “That’s the third time this week.”

I stand slowly, moving to the sink to rinse my mouth. “I’ve been working double shifts. Not eating properly.”

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