Mafia Princess: Escaping His Deadly Lie

For three years, a rare liver disease has been killing me. Through it all, my husband Julian has been my rock. Our last hope was a black-market liver, secured through a life-debt owed to my family, the Volkov Bratva.

But from my hospital bed, I overheard him promise that very liver to another woman.

It was for his mistress's mother.

I soon discovered he had a four-year-old daughter with her. Their family was established; I was just the placeholder. On a hidden security feed, I watched him in my dead parents' penthouse—a sacred place he forbade me from visiting—bouncing their child on his knee.

Then he fastened the diamond necklace he'd bought for my birthday around his mistress's neck.

The final blow came when I heard her whisper, "Just a little longer... the fever will do the rest."

He wasn't just leaving me. He was actively trying to kill me.

The love I had for him didn't just die; it turned to a cold, hard stone in my chest. The man whose devotion I never questioned now made my skin crawl with revulsion.

The next morning, I signed myself out of the hospital against medical advice. I left my wedding ring and the signed divorce papers on the entryway table, blocked his number, and walked out of our house without looking back.

Chapter 1

Katerina POV:

The man who swore to love me in sickness and in health just promised my only chance at survival to another woman.

I lay perfectly still, the starched sheets of the hospital bed a flimsy shield against a cold that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. It had settled deep in my bones. It wasn't the rare liver disease killing me anymore. It was the words drifting through the slightly ajar door.

Julian's voice, my husband's voice, was a low, urgent murmur. "She can wait. The doctors said she has three months left, maybe more. Ava's mother doesn't have that kind of time. I can't watch her lose her mom."

My breath caught in my throat, a dry, rattling sound. The black-market liver-the one secured through a life-debt owed to my family, the Volkov Bratva-wasn't for me.

It was for his mistress's mother.

A mistress. The word felt foreign, absurd. For three years, as my body waged a war against itself, Julian had been my rock. He'd held my hair back as I retched, spoon-fed me broth when I couldn't keep anything down, and whispered promises of our future into my ear as I drifted off to sleep. His devotion was the one thing I never questioned.

"And what about Sofia?" a woman's voice, soft and cloying. Ava. "She needs her grandmother."

"I know, honey," Julian soothed. "I'm handling it."

Sofia. They had a child. A four-year-old daughter. The numbers clicked into place with sickening precision. My illness had started three years ago. Their affair was older. Their family was established. I was the placeholder.

A moment later, I heard the faint, tinny sound of a child's voice through the phone. "Daddy, when are you coming home?"

"Soon, princess. Daddy has some urgent business."

The door creaked open. Julian stepped inside, his face a perfect mask of concern. He was the picture of a rising Capo in the Bratva-powerful, handsome, and utterly devoted-to everyone else.

He crossed the room and bent to kiss my forehead. "How are you feeling?"

His touch, which once felt like home, now felt like a brand. I forced a weak smile. "Tired."

"I have to step out for a bit," he said, stroking my hair. "Urgent business."

He left his phone on the bedside table. An oversight. A fatal mistake.

The moment the door clicked shut, I reached for it. The password was my birthday. A cruel, sentimental joke. I ignored the texts and went straight to his call log. A coded contact, "Mr. Brown," was his most recent call.

My fingers trembled as I opened the phone's GPS. His car wasn't at his office or any of our usual places.

It was parked at my parents' penthouse.

The heart of the Volkov empire. The sacred ground where my father, the former Pakhan, once ruled. A place Julian had forbidden me from visiting since their deaths, claiming the memories were too painful for my fragile state.

But my father's paranoia had been a gift. His security app, the one he'd installed on my phone years ago, was still active. I tapped the icon for the penthouse feed.

The screen flickered to life, and with it, my world shattered.

There was Julian, in the middle of my parents' living room, bouncing a little girl with his dark hair on his knee. There was Ava, handing him a bowl of chowder. A sickeningly perfect domestic scene played out on the altar of my family's memory.

Then, I saw it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. From it, he drew the delicate diamond necklace, a limited-edition piece I knew he'd bought for my upcoming birthday.

He fastened it around Ava's neck.

A sound escaped my throat, a raw, broken thing. Whatever love I had left for him didn't just wither and die. It calcified, turning to a cold, hard stone in my chest.

My fingers found my own phone. I dialed the only number that mattered.

My aunt Isabella answered on the first ring.

"Kat? What's wrong?"

My voice was a ghost of itself, but the words were solid steel. "I'm coming to Jasperton. The surgery is happening there. Julian is not to be involved." I paused, my eyes locked on the screen, watching him kiss the woman wearing my necklace. "Send your people for me. Now."