From Abandoned Wife to Ruthless Queen

She smiled—and it was the kind of smile that made your skin crawl. Slowly, deliberately, she walked to the far wall and pressed a hidden wooden panel. It slid open silently, revealing a cabinet I had glimpsed only once before. Inside, a thick, polished cane lay resting, alongside a drawer filled with incense, ropes, and a cattle prod.

The old instruments of control.

The Volkovs didn’t simply construct an empire—they built a dynasty of obedience. She lifted the cane, running her fingers along its smooth shaft as if it were a cherished possession.

The first strike landed without warning, slicing across my back hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

The second ripped skin.

The third cracked bone.

By the fifth, I was flat on the cold stone floor, my cheek pressed against the tiles, trembling in agony so sharp that sound blurred around me, and I lost consciousness halfway through her relentless fury.

---

When I awoke, I was in a hospital bed, my mouth tasting like iron and regret. And then I saw him.

Viktor.

“You let my grandmother treat you like that,” he said, voice tight. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I… didn’t want to interrupt your date with Evelyn,” I muttered, and his eyes blinked once, sharp, unreadable.

I turned toward the window, letting silence pour over me like thick smoke. Suffocating, heavy, suffocating.

And then he stayed. For days. Sitting in the room, saying nothing, pretending to be the man I thought I had married. I told him he didn’t need to. That I was fine. But he never left.

Not until his phone rang.

“Business emergency,” he muttered, standing. I saw the caller ID before he spoke: Evelyn. “You’ll go home alone,” he added.

I nodded. “Sure.”

I dressed slowly, each movement raw and deliberate, as if every motion peeled open a fresh wound. The gauze tugged with every breath. My coat smelled faintly of antiseptic and burnt fabric. Yet I forced one foot in front of the other, moving down the hospital stairs.

I didn’t see him coming until a man rounded the corner, Starbucks venti cup in hand—and collided with me.

Coffee spilled instantly, scalding my arm and chest, burning through the thin fabric. I gasped sharply, stinging searing across my skin.

The man glared down at his ruined designer blazer. “Are you blind or just stupid?!” he barked, swiping at the liquid like I was dirt. “Do you even know how much this jacket costs? Or are you so used to charity hospitals that you don’t care?”

“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, bending over to wipe at the soaked coat, struggling to catch my breath. “It was my fault—”

“You damn well better believe it was,” he snapped, stepping closer. “Pay for it. Now.”

Before I could speak again, a low, lethal voice cut through the air behind him.

“Touch her again, and I’ll break your jaw.”

The man froze. Viktor was there.

And in an instant, five men in black appeared behind him like shadows, moving faster than humanly possible.

“Take him,” Viktor ordered.

Without hesitation, they grabbed the man, dragging him away as he kicked and cursed, shouting threats no one cared to hear.

Silence fell.

Viktor turned to me, his gaze scanning my clothes—cheap, wrinkled, faintly bloodstained and now streaked with coffee.

“You didn’t get any money from the Thorns or Volkovs? Why the hell are you dressed like this?”

The Thorns never gave me a cent. Only hospital bills for my grandmother. The Volkovs had a black card, yes, but I was never the real Mrs. Volkov. That card stayed in my wallet, mocking me silently.

“The hell are you sulking about?” he barked, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his black SUV. “Come on. You look like death. We’re getting you new clothes.”

I said nothing.

---

At the mall, he selected designer outfits with precision, like picking weapons—sharp, cold, expensive.

I stood motionless as assistants zipped me in and out of garments, like I was a mannequin on display. Finally, we stepped into the sunlight-lit atrium, shopping bags in hand, the scent of luxury clinging to my skin. I thought it was over.

Then—

“Benny?”

I froze.

Evelyn.

Heels too high for an ordinary afternoon, sunglasses perched atop her head, phone in one hand, a staff member trailing behind with a cart stacked with glossy black-and-gold boxes—Chanel, Cartier, Valentino. All items dripping wealth. From his other black card, the one he didn’t think I knew about.

Her lips parted slightly when she saw me, the smile dying midair. “Oh… I didn’t realize you were out.” Her eyes darted from my face to the shopping bags, then back to Viktor. “You said you were in Singapore.”

“Evelyn—”

“You told me not to text because of meetings all day,” she whispered, trembling. “I should’ve known… I should’ve known.”

She looked at me again, like a ghost haunting a life she tried to steal. Then she turned and ran.

“Evelyn!” he shouted, already sprinting after her.

I remained rooted, watching him disappear.

Then—Bang!

The sound was deafening. I whipped my head around just in time to see a sheet of glass plummet from the upper mall floor, striking Evelyn before she could even scream.

Blood sprayed. Fast, bright. She collapsed instantly, her body crumpling to the ground.