Chapter 129 Anya
That night, after the wedding, Alexei took me to our bedroom.
He was gentle and careful. Like I was something fragile that might break.
"We do not have to do this," he said. "If you are not ready."
"It is okay," I said. "You are my husband."
"I know," Alexei said. "But I want you to want this. Not just accept it."
I looked at him. I should want this. I should want him.
But I felt nothing.
"I want to," I lied.
Alexei kissed me. Touched me. Made love to me.
And I let him. I did not resist. I did not pull away.
But I felt nothing. No pleasure. No pain. Just emptiness.
When it was over, Alexei held me close and whispered that he loved me.
I said it back. Because that was what wives did.
But the words felt empty.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months.
I lived as Alexei's wife and played the role. Smiled when I was supposed to. Laughed at his jokes. Let him touch me.
But inside, I was screaming.
Because something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
This life was not mine. This man was not my husband. This was all a lie.
But I had no proof. No memories. Just a feeling that would not go away.
One day, I was cleaning Alexei's office. He was outside, working.
I found a drawer. It was locked.
I should have left it alone. I should have respected his privacy.
But I could not.
I found a key that was hidden under papers and I opened the drawer.
Inside were files. Documents. Photographs. Ledgers. Names. Numbers. Transactions.
My hands trembled as I pulled them out.
These were not business records. Not legal documents.
These were something else entirely.
Shipments. Territories. Payments. Names of people I did not recognize. Amounts of money that made my head spin.
And then I saw the photographs. Men with guns. Men with dead eyes. Men standing beside stacks of money and crates marked with symbols I did not understand.
Drugs. Weapons. Human cargo.
I felt sick.
Alexei Volkov was not a businessman.
He was a monster.
I had never asked what he did. He was rich. He had a beautiful house. He gave me everything I wanted. I assumed he was just some wealthy man with investments.
I was wrong.
I shoved everything back into the drawer, locked it and put the key back.
My hands would not stop shaking.
That evening, Alexei came home. He kissed my cheek and smiled at me.
"How was your day, darling?"
I looked at him. At this man who held me at night. Who whispered sweet words. Who promised to love me forever.
"How did you get your money, Alexei?"
His smile faltered. Just for a second. Then it returned.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I found your drawer," I said. "The locked one. I opened it."
The smile disappeared completely.
"I see," he said quietly.
"So I will ask again," I said. "How did you get your money?"
Alexei was silent for a long moment. Then he walked to the window and stared outside.
"I am not a good man, Anya," he said finally. "I have never pretended to be."
"I thought you were just rich," I said. "I thought you had businesses. Investments. I did not think you were..."
"Say it," Alexei said. He turned to face me. His eyes were cold. Hard. "Say the word."
"A monster," I whispered.
Something flickered across his face.
"I do what I have to do to survive," he said. "To protect what is mine."
"By killing people? By trafficking drugs? By selling human beings?"
Alexei's jaw tightened. "You do not understand the world I come from."
"Then help me understand," I said. "Explain it to me. Because right now, all I see is a man who lies to his wife about who he really is."
"I never lied," Alexei said. "You never asked."
I stared at him. He was right. I had never asked. I had been so grateful for his kindness, his patience, his protection. I had never questioned where any of it came from.
"Quit," I said.
"What?"
"Quit," I repeated. "You have enough money already. More than enough. We could live anywhere. Do anything. You do not need to keep doing this."
Alexei laughed. But there was no humor in it.
"It does not work that way," he said. "You cannot just quit the mafia. There are consequences."
"Then we would disappear and start somewhere new." I said.
"Anya..."
"Please," I said. My voice broke. "I do not want to be married to a man who kills people. Who destroys lives. I do not want my husband trafficking humans and drugs."
Alexei was quiet for a long time.
"I will think about it," he said finally.
That was all.
But it was something.
That night, I lay in bed beside him. He was already asleep. But I could not close my eyes.
I thought about everything I had learned. About who Alexei really was.
But I also thought about how he had treated me. Since the accident. Since I lost my memory.
He had been patient and gentle. He had never raised his voice at me. Never hurt me. Never made me feel unsafe.
He had given me a home. A life. A purpose.
Even if I did not love him. Even if I felt nothing when he touched me.
He was trying. He was trying to be a good husband.
Maybe that was enough. Maybe I could learn to love him. Maybe with time, the feelings would come.
I would stay. I would be the good wife he wanted. I would push down the doubts and the emptiness and the voice inside me that screamed that something was wrong.
I would try.
For him. For us. For this life he had given me.
A few nights later, I woke up thirsty. Alexei was not in bed.
I got up, walked to the kitchen and poured myself water.
Then I saw the light on in his study. The door was slightly open.
I decided to make him coffee. Bring it to him. A small gesture. A wife taking care of her husband.
The coffee finished brewing. I poured it into his favorite mug. Carried it carefully down the hallway.
The study door was still open. I could hear his voice. He was on the phone.
"She has started to become a bone in the neck," Alexei said. His voice was cold and impatient. Nothing like the gentle husband he pretended to be. "My patience is wearing out."
My heart stopped. I had stopped walking.
Who was he talking about?
I stood frozen in the hallway. The coffee was warm in my hands.
"Are you certain?" Alexei continued. "That it is true? That she really lost her memories?"
He was quiet for a while. He was listening to the other person.
"She should have gained them back by now," he said. "The drugs I told you to administer were just a little. It was just supposed to make her lose her memories for a week. Just long enough for me to marry her."
What?
My hands shook so bad the tray fell from my hands.
Shattering on the floor.