Chapter 107: Remains

“I'm going to make you forget. Give me all of you, Ramzi Draneth.”

“I'm at my limit...”

“You need an outlet. I can be that outlet,” she whispers, stroking my face gently. “I can handle your dark side. Just don't spill any more blood because of me. Please.”

Feeling my body vibrate with the blazing ball of anger inside my stomach, I allow her gentle touch to calm me.

Minutes later, my gun is lowered.

My thoughts are entirely focused on the redhead carrying my surname.

I take her to a guest room and lock the door behind us.

She kisses me intensely, and I return her kiss with equal hunger, consumed by her scent, her touch, her taste.

Satisfied beyond reason knowing that no one except me knows just how irresistible my wife truly is.

I lift her onto a dresser and kiss her deeply.

When I pull away, my wife throws her head back with a soft moan.

And with every second spent with her, a little more of my anger fades.

A little more of my darkness disappears.

Until nothing remains...

Except her.

Sereia Draneth

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

We’re attending a brunch in a widow’s backyard, and I came along with Rebecca on one of her weekly visits. Besides raising money for charity, my mother-in-law enjoys organizing small gatherings at the homes of mafia women who live alone.

Widows, divorcees, women who never married—it doesn’t matter. The beautiful blonde with the dazzling smile loves bringing a little joy into lonely households, and now that I’m the Don’s wife, I feel obligated to carry on her legacy.

And, to be honest, on a normal day I would genuinely be interested in the project. But today, after spending the entire night having sex with my husband, I woke up feeling unwell and exhausted.

The woman’s backyard is packed with women connected to mafia men, and no one has dared mention yesterday’s incident at the ball. Ramzi is a Don, and in our world, he has the power of a god.

If he wanted to kill someone in front of everyone, no one would dare stand in his way.

I bring a glass of orange juice to my lips while listening to the wife of one of the capos tell me about a trip she took with her family. I like hearing stories, but today I really don’t feel well.

I’m almost...

Nauseous.

Suffocated.

I regret wearing a high-neck blouse, but the truth is that I needed to hide the marks my husband left on me.

We left his parents’ mansion yesterday and kept having sex after we got home. While the world saw violence and impulsiveness in Ramzi, yesterday I saw the purest vulnerability in his eyes.

The desperation of not knowing how to deal with the possibility of loss. Of pain.

Only people who have lost a great deal in life understand what it feels like to stand before the possibility of losing something important. I saw that something as my freedom, but Ramzi... he saw me.

We only stopped touching each other when dawn arrived. He kissed me every second, worshipped my body, marked me, and made love to me.

I loved everything he did.

And when he left for work and abandoned me with nothing but his scent lingering on the sheets, I felt empty.

That was when I decided.

I realized I didn’t want to stay away from him anymore. Despite his flaws, mistakes, and possessiveness, he was the person who made me feel whole. I wasn’t going to run away.

I no longer wanted my plan.

I wanted to stay by his side, make our marriage work, just as Milena and Dan had found their balance.

I wanted to be Ramzi Draneth’s wife.

Completely.

No plans. No pretenses. No lies.

But to do that, I needed to fulfill my role as the mafia’s first lady properly, which included keeping a smile on my face while several women demanded my attention.

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and the hostess offers to guide me inside the house. My husband assigned three soldiers to protect me, but at the moment they’re busy talking to a few mafia princesses who, taking advantage of the lack of male supervision, make no effort to hide their interest in tattoos and weapons.

Not that I’m in any danger here.

Rebecca waves and smiles at me as I step inside behind the woman.

A wave of dizziness hits me, and I lean against the wall, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Only when she turns around to show me the bathroom door do her eyes widen.

“My dear, are you all right? You look pale.”

“I just need to use the bathroom,” I reply as another wave of nausea strikes.

“Do you want me to call a doctor? Your mother-in-law?”

“No, no, please. I don’t want to ruin the party. I’m fine, I promise. I just need to pee.”

The woman hesitates for a few seconds but finally gives in. Instead of leaving me alone, however, she calls one of her granddaughters and asks the teenager to wait outside the bathroom door.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist, dear. Melanie will help you if you need anything. Won’t you, Melanie?”

She says the last part firmly, forcing the girl with glasses to look up from her phone.

“Yes,” she huffs before returning her attention to the screen.

The widow looks irritated, but I’m relieved.

The girl isn’t paying attention to me.

I enter the bathroom and close the door. I barely make it to the toilet before throwing up everything I ate at brunch.

Afterward, I feel a little better and walk to the sink to wash my face and rinse my mouth. I stare at my pale reflection and take a deep breath, trying to give myself enough time to regain some color.

Those women are already curious enough without a reason. Seeing me like this would be a feast for gossip.

When I open the door, Melanie is still there, just as her grandmother asked. She looks up, her eyes moving between me and the bathroom.

“I have ginger candy if you want some,” she says.

I realize she’s actually a sweet girl, probably worried about my breath after vomiting.

I accept the candy with a smile and thank her, but before I can return to the gathering, she adds:

“My mom has been really nauseous because of her pregnancy. Ginger helps.”

I open my mouth to tell her that I’m not pregnant, but her simple comment makes everything click.

I should have gotten my period by now.

It’s been over a month since I married Ramzi, and my period is never late.

Instinctively, I place a hand over my flat stomach, considering the remote possibility of...

“No, that’s impossible,” I say out loud.

The girl follows the movement of my hand with her eyes.

I had my period in Russia.