Chapter 58 Sima
SIMA
I’m pacing a hole into the carpet, arms folded tight across my chest, when I hear the front door open downstairs.
Petyr.
My heart seizes. This is it. The moment I fix us or lose us.
The low rumble of his voice carries from the elevator. A short exchange. Someone from the building staff, most likely. At worst, he’s talking to Kira, though I haven’t seen the shadow of her horns or heard the flick of her pointy tail anywhere near the penthouse so far.
Petyr’s heavy boots echo in the long hallway outside.
I suck in a breath. My stomach is knotting so hard, it’s a miracle I don’t fold in half. My mouth is dry, my palms clammy. Every time I take another step across the bedroom, my pulse stutters like it’s forgotten how it goes.
Here we are. I force myself to breathe through it. Decent practice for labor, if nothing else. No more stalling. No more excuses.
No.
More.
Lies.
But old habits are hard to break. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to make a run for it. Test how sturdy those Egyptian cotton sheets can be when tied together in a rope, take another crack at rappelling down the side of the mansion.
But it’s pointless. This isn’t like all the other times I ran. This time, there’s nowhere to go. And honestly? I’m not so sure I want to run.
For the first time in my life, I think I want to stay.
Besides, I’d rather walk backwards into hell than live one more day with this weight crushing my lungs.
The keycard beeps. The front door opens. A couple more steps, and Petyr will be here, in the bedroom.
In those few seconds, my mind starts spinning again.
You need to warn him. That bit has become more pressing even than my secrets.
After Anatoli’s ambush, I don’t have a choice.
If I don’t talk, Petyr will be in mortal danger.
He could be walking into a trap the next time he leaves the house.
Just picturing him surrounded, blindsided by someone he trusts, is enough to make bile rise in my throat.
I can’t let him get taken down because I was too afraid to speak. Silence has always been my shield, meant to protect me. But if it hurts the man I love…
Then it’s just not worth it. Not anymore.
I still can’t believe Anatoli had the audacity to look me in the eye and demand I betray him. How could he think I’d side with him, that I’d help him take down the man who’s given me more freedom and safety than any of the men in my family?
He’s delusional.
And he still doesn’t have the first clue who I am.
Because I’ve finally found someone I don’t want to escape from, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone take him from me. Especially my rotten family.
Petyr may not be perfect—God knows he’s not—but he’s mine. And I’m his. That’s the only truth that matters here. I’m not going to turn my back on that, no matter what my psycho brother thinks he has over me.
The footsteps reach the bedroom door. I rub my palms against the sides of my thighs and stop pacing, then go stand dead center in the room like I’m about to face the firing squad.
When the door opens, I turn.
He’s always a sight, my husband. Broad shoulders, perfect suits, sculpted features. But tonight, something is different. His face is a blank mask, his gaze much darker than usual.
He shuts the door with quiet finality. The sound makes me flinch.
“Home early, huh?” I manage a feeble laugh, but my voice comes out thinner than I’d like. My fingers twist together. For someone who’s maintained a secret identity for twelve years, I sure am acting like the shittiest liar in the universe tonight.
Petyr studies me for a beat, gaze steady, unreadable. “You don’t look happy to see me.”
My throat tightens. Normally, I’d be over the moon to see him, but there’s nothing normal about this night.
I try to make myself talk, but my mind is too scattered.
Calm down. You can do this. No—you have to.
There’s no saving him if you don’t.
I force myself to breathe and meet his gaze. “We need to talk.”
Petyr eyes me with no particular expression. That blankness on his face unnerves me, but I tell myself I must be imagining it. He’s never this neutral, not within the four walls of our bedroom.
Huh. Since when have I started thinking about this bedroom as “ours”?
I shake my head and make myself focus.
“The day we met, I didn’t tell you the truth,” I confess. “Or rather—I did tell you the truth, but I didn’t mean to. And it wasn’t the full truth anyway. I…” Shit. I resist the urge to bury my face in my hands at how badly I’m fucking this up. “My name isn’t Sammi Banks. You know that, of course.”
Petyr gives me a look that cannot be translated as anything other than, No shit, Sherlock.
I do my best to ignore the shame creeping up my cheeks and go on. “But what you don’t know is that my name isn’t just Sima. It’s…”
I take a deep breath.
Now or never.
“It’s Sima Danilo.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for his response. For him to curse and yell at me. Maybe punch a wall or two.
Instead, silence follows. A thick, heavy, awful silence.
I open my eyes again. Petyr’s jaw is clenched tight, but he isn’t otherwise moving. Or speaking. He’s just staring at me, and it makes me feel exposed in a way I don’t like.
I swallow hard and decide to press on. If I’m explaining myself, I might as well do it properly.
I’ve already stepped over the edge of this cliff. No use trying to climb back up now.
All I can do is pray that he catches me. Like he promised he would.
“When I was twelve,” I begin, voice unsteady, “I ran away from home. I’d just watched my older sister be married off to some old, nasty man my father owed a favor to. I knew the same fate was coming for me, too. I couldn’t let that happen. Losing Lara was hard enough. So I ran.”
When Petyr still isn’t saying anything, I force myself to meet his gaze and continue.
“I survived any way I could. Small jobs, a fake ID so I could pass for eighteen, a new name to keep hidden. For the past twelve years, I’ve been dead to my family.”
I wring the hem of my sweater, trying to ease the ache in my chest at the memory of all that. No matter how long it’s been, the pain of losing the only home I’d ever known is still as fresh as that first night spent on the streets.
“It was a desperate plan, but… somehow, it worked. Until the wedding.”
Petyr’s jaw flexes again. It’s the only reaction I’ve got to go off on, and it doesn’t look good.
If anything, the lack of expression cuts deeper than anger would. At least anger is something I could understand. But this stillness hurts in a way I can’t name. It feels too much like indifference.
But what else can I do at this point except finish my story?
“I was afraid you’d find out.” It comes out as barely more than a whisper.
“Afraid you might do something to me. But then Maksim found me. When I was out with Jemma, he saw me at the café. He realized who I was. And I figured it was only a matter of time until—” I stop abruptly.
“No, that’s not right. I should have told you anyway.
I wanted to tell you so many times. So many…
Well. But in the end, it was survival that pushed me. Like always.”
Still nothing from Petyr. No flicker in his eyes, no twitch of his mouth. Just that solid, unreadable stare.
The silence makes my stomach roil, but I push forward anyway.
Almost done now.
“Maksim told Anatoli.” I say. “And Anatoli found me. At school, today. He said he wanted me to set up a meeting between you two. Tell you he wanted a truce.” I bite my lip, trying not to shiver.
“But it was a lie. He’s planning to kill you.
He told me outright. He said…” My throat closes around the words, too horrible to say, but I shove them out anyway.
“He said he’s got someone working on the inside.
Lev. And that he would betray you at the meeting. ”
Finally—finally—something flashes in Petyr’s gaze. A sharp, dangerous edge.
But he still doesn’t have a thing to say to me.
“I don’t know if that’s true,” I rush on. “I don’t want to believe it, but you should… you should look into it.” My fingers twist into the cashmere of my sweater. “Regardless of how you might feel about me now, just… be careful. Please.”
There. I’ve said it. My story, my truth. All laid out on the table.
But Petyr still isn’t speaking.
“Say something,” I whisper. “Please.”
And finally, he does.
Only, it’s not words.
It’s laughter.
Petyr’s humorless chuckle leaves me frozen in the middle of the room. I’ve never heard him laugh this way. His laughter is a rare, precious thing. Granted, it can be a bit on the sarcastic side sometimes, but it’s never like this. Never so cruel.
“What’s so funny?” I find myself asking.
But Petyr simply shakes his head, like this is all a bad comedy movie. A shitty joke of the universe. “I wondered how long it would take. For you to admit what you are.”
His choice of words makes my skin crawl. Not “who”—“what”. Like I’m a thing instead of a person.
“Not surprised it’s today,” he adds, jaded, eyes narrow with something that looks too much like contempt. “After your attack on my brother failed so spectacularly. What’s this, Plan B? Damage control while you wait to stab me in the back again?”
Confusion tangles with panic. My lips part before I can stop them. “Your… brother?” I whisper. “What—what happened to Dimitri?”
His head snaps towards me. “Quit the fucking act, Sima. I’m not an idiot.”
I stumble back a step. The rejection stings worse than a slap. “I… I never said you were.” My chest tightens until I can barely breathe. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with Dimitri?”
What do you think I did to him?!
Something must have happened while Petyr was out. Something bad. God, what if Dimitri’s dead?
But what’s that got to do with me if he is?
It’s an ugly, selfish thought, but it darts through my head anyway. Because it’s clear that Petyr isn’t just lashing out at random—he’s lashing out at me.
And for once, I have no clue what I’ve done.