All Chapters of Married To The Russian Mafia Boss : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

AvaMy phone buzzes in my pants as soon as I step out of my art history test on Wednesday. I reach for it, my pulse thrumming when I see the unknown number flashing across the screen. I hesitate for only a second before answering, my hand fisting the phone tightly."Hello?" "How are you, Ava?"That voice. I knew that voice. I grew up with that voice."Aaron?""The one and only"It's meant to come off as playful but there's a restrained edge to it. He sounds tired somehow and nothing like the boy I grew up with.Whereas that voice was lighter and always playful, this voice sounded older, wearier—like life had taken its toll on him in ways I would never understand.Why was he calling me? Now of all times. He abandoned me and now he's calling me like everything is just peachy between us when it's not. He knows it's not.I open my mouth to tell him he's an asshole for ignoring me for months and then trying to joke it off like nothing happene

Ava"She was pregnant Ava"Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.The word repeats, over and over again in my brain like an endless chant.My mum...Our mum, was pregnant before she married our... no, my father.Swallowing, I straighten in the log, turning to face my brother. Of all the things I expected him to say, this did not make the top ten. Or hundred. Or thousand.I blink at him, counting down the seconds until he says, gotcha like he did when we were children, and he told me that he saw a ghost in our backyard, and I believed him. But the punchline never comes. “is this some kind of joke?" I ask. I'm surprised at how steady my voice comes out because, on the inside, my mind is racing. He has to be wrong; he just has to be because that would mean....I stare him straight in his eyes and the look I find there tells me that he won't say the words I'm so desperate for him to even if I were to kneel and beg him within an inch of my life.He wouldn't lie to me.Aaron remains comple

AvaDownstairs, Kat is already dressed and waiting for me in the car.I slip into the backseat beside her, letting out a small sigh as I settle in.The ride to the hospital is mostly filled with silence as we roll into the streets of Chicago. I peek at Kat, worrying when I see her picking at the edge of her thumb with her fingernails.She seems tense for some reason and as much as I want to, I decide that it's best not to pry.Whatever is bothering her I'm sure she'll tell me when she's ready. We arrive at the hospital twenty minutes later and Kat is out of the car before the driver even comes to a full stop in the parking lot. I follow after her, struggling to keep up with her pace.Inside the hospital smells of antiseptic, the stench hitting me the moment I step in along with the smell of iodine and latex, making my stomach churn. We make our way to the receptionist's desk, where a blonde woman in light blue scrubs, probably in her late twenties or early thirties, greets us with a

AvaBy the time we reach the mansion, I'm shaking through my skin and can barely keep the trembling in my bones at bay.He's back.My father, the man who'd sold me not once but twice and ran away, was back. And he’d been at the hospital, watching me.A violent shudder rocked through me, nausea churning in the pit of my stomach.Did he know I was going to be there? How long has he been back? How long has he been following me? And why hadn’t I noticed until now? How long..."Your hands are shaking" The words drag me from my spiralling thoughts, and I blink, realizing the car is no longer moving."Huh?""Your hands," She nods towards the fist still clenched around my sweater in a death vice, "They're shaking"Her brows pinch together, "Are you cold?"Cold? No. Shocked? Definitely. But with everything that's going on with Kat, I can't tell her what's really happening. At least not until I'm sure myself. So I lie."Yes," I nod, then tug the sleeve of my sweater down to add to my dramatics,

AvaWhen I was a little girl, Aaron and I were playing in my mother's garden and he accidentally knocked over one of her paintings. It wasn't just any painting, it was her favourite piece. She'd spent weeks creating it and propped it up against an easel near the rose bushes, where she left it to dry.I still remember the exact moment it happened. We had spent the entire afternoon chasing each other, laughing our little hearts out at a game our mother had warned us to be careful while playing. Aaron had tripped, and while he tried to stop himself from crashing into the grass, he swung his arms out for balance, which unfortunately caused him to knock over our mother's paintings.Time seemed to stop as we both lifted the painting out of the rose bush and even as we straightened it, we both knew that the damage had already been done.“She’s going to kill me,” Aaron muttered when we took in the smeared painting. I'd never seen him look as scared as he did at that moment.He begged me to ke