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Her Grief
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2025-12-19 08:00:02CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE
SOCHI, RUSSIA – Week 38The contractions started as a whisper, a faint tightening in my lower belly, like a hand gently squeezing, then releasing.I was in the library, curled in an armchair with a book I wasn’t reading, pretending to rest while Gavriil worked at his desk across the room.The first one came and went, mild enough to ignore. I shifted, hand on my belly, feeling our son stir.But the second hit sharper, a ripple that stole my breath.By the third, they were coming every ten minutes, repetitive, insistent.Gavriil noticed before I said a word. His head snapped up, eyes locking on my face as I winced. “Rosa mia?” He was across the room in an instant, kneeling beside me, hand pressing to my belly. “It’s time?”I nodded, gritting my teeth as another wave built. “Contractions. Mild, but… getting stronger.”He didn’t hesitate. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing, his
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My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent Her Grief
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – Week 38The contractions started as a whisper, a faint tightening in my lower belly, like a hand gently squeezing, then releasing. I was in the library, curled in an armchair with a book I wasn’t reading, pretending to rest while Gavriil worked at his desk across the room. The first one came and went, mild enough to ignore. I shifted, hand on my belly, feeling our son stir. But the second hit sharper, a ripple that stole my breath. By the third, they were coming every ten minutes, repetitive, insistent.Gavriil noticed before I said a word. His head snapped up, eyes locking on my face as I winced. “Rosa mia?” He was across the room in an instant, kneeling beside me, hand pressing to my belly. “It’s time?”I nodded, gritting my teeth as another wave built. “Contractions. Mild, but… getting stronger.”He didn’t hesitate. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing, his
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent He's In Russia
DANTE’S PERSPECTIVE EN ROUTE TO RUSSIA – Private Jet, 02:51 a.m.The call with Voronin ended with a click that echoed in my skull like a gunshot. I stared at the blank screen for one second; two; then hurled the phone across the cabin. It shattered against the bulkhead, pieces scattering like my fucking sanity.A son.We were having a son.And that psycho had my wife; my pregnant wife; in his goddamn lair.The jet’s engines roared beneath me, but it wasn’t fast enough. Nothing was fast enough. I paced the aisle, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. Malcolm sat in the corner, eyes on his tablet, pretending not to notice the storm. Nikolai nursed a vodka, gaze distant.“Malcolm,” I snarled. “Call the tower. Tell them to clear everything between here and Adler. I don’t care who they have to ground.”“Already done, Don,” he said quietly. “We land in thr
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent Voronin's Perspective
ROMAN VORONIN’S PERSPECTIVE ST. PETERSBURG – Night after the galaThe call connected on the second ring.“Nico, speaker. Now,” I ordered the moment his voice came through.A soft click. Then Dante’s ragged breathing filled the line, raw as an open wound.“Roman,” Dante rasped. “Talk to me.”I leaned back in the leather chair, the phone in one hand, the other tangled in Cynthia’s dark hair as she knelt between my thighs. Her mouth was already on me, slow and deliberate, but I kept my voice perfectly steady.“She’s alive. Breathing. Strong. Week thirty-four and carrying well.” I paused, letting the words cut. “It’s a boy, Dante. You’re having a son.”Silence. Then a sound like a man being flayed alive.“Fuck!” Dante choked. “A son…”Nico cursed in Italian, low and vicious.I continued, merciless.“Her exact words: ‘Tell Dante I’m all right. We’re having
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent She Found Something She Can Exploit
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – Week 36 The house is a lung. It inhales when he leaves the bed, slow, deliberate, the way a wolf slips from its den. It exhales when he returns, hot, metallic, ashamed. Tonight the inhale lasted 5,619 seconds. I counted every single one, the way I once counted heartbeats under interrogation. I know the hidden elevator’s song better than any lullaby: a low, predatory hum that begins in the floorboards and crawls up the bedframe, into my spine, into the child curled beneath my ribs. I know the furnace’s heartbeat: 04:11 – first roar, greedy 04:36 – second, ravenous 05:02 – final, sated belch that carries the faint perfume of burnt hair and cheap vanilla when the wind turns west. He believes I sleep through it all. He is catastrophically wrong. I have begun
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent Gavriil's Basement Chamber
TRIGGER WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EROTIC BRUTALITY.BE WARNED!GAVRIIL’S PERSPECTIVE SOCHI, RUSSIA – 03:11 a.m., after the galaThe drive home was silent.Catalina sat beside me, hands folded over the swell of our son, staring out at the black sea.She had smiled for Voronin.Laughed softly at something he said.Touched Cynthia’s arm like old friends.I watched every second of it.When we reached the mansion I carried her upstairs myself, ignoring her quiet protest that she could walk.I laid her in our bed, pulled the silk sheets to her shoulders, brushed her hair from her face the way she allowed only me to do.“Sleep, rosa mia,” I whispered.She closed her eyes obediently.The moment her breathing evened out, I left.Down the hidden staircase.Past the retinal scanner.Into the basement chamber; soundproof, and windowless.The do
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent The Plan For Extraction
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVESOCHI, RUSSIA – Week 34The Aurora Casino – Charity Gala for the Children’s Oncology WingThe invitation had arrived on heavy cream stock, embossed in gold:“Mr. & Mrs. Gavriil Starovetsky request the honor…”He had made it official three days ago.A quiet registry office, two witnesses, my signature forged in advance.The world now believed La Rosa Nera belonged to the Executioner.Tonight was the public coronation.I wore black silk chiffon, empire waist, the swell of my belly proudly on display.A black diamond choker circled my throat; his collar in plain sight.Gavriil stood beside me in midnight tuxedo, hand resting possessively at the base of my spine, greeting oligarchs, generals, and Bratva princes like a king presenting his queen.I smiled the way he had taught me: small, serene, untouchable.Then I saw them across the marble floor.Roman Voronin.
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