Chapter 60 Sima
SIMA
The second the door slams, my legs give out.
I drop to the edge of the bed. My hands clutch the duvet. They’re trembling, shaking so hard they blur before my eyes.
Or maybe that’s the tears’ fault. Right now, I can’t even tell.
He knew. All along, he knew. Every confession I ripped out of myself was pointless. Because Petyr had the truth in his pocket the whole damn time.
And he kept it from me. For his own advantage. So he could use me as a bargaining chip when the time came.
“Fuck.” I press my palms to my eyes hard enough to see stars. “God fucking dammit.”
I’m so stupid. I thought it would matter that it came from me. I wanted him to know I trusted him with the truth. It was supposed to be our big moment—me coming clean, finally taking control of my own story.
But the whole time, Petyr was just waiting for me to catch up. He was faking it, all of it. Giving an Oscar-worthy performance while turning me into his personal court jester.
My throat feels raw. All the things I let myself believe turned out to be lies, and I don’t know what to do with it.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
I let myself want him. Hoped he’d be different. And all the while, I was just another pawn on his board, waiting to be sacrificed.
I keep seeing his face when he said it. Calm. Flat. Almost smug.
“Why else do you think I married you?”
The words replay over and over. Shame floods me. How could I be so na?ve? Let myself be tricked like this?
After all I’ve lived through?
“Stupid.” I wipe furiously at my eyes. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
It feels like everything I built just crumbled to dust in one breath. My job, my name, the fragile little life I fought tooth and nail for.
And underneath all that wreckage is the truth I’ve been running from since I was twelve: I never really escaped. I thought I had, but here I am, right back where I started.
Caged.
Hot tears sting my eyes, but I keep swiping them away even though it won’t make me feel any less pathetic.
But I can’t let myself cry over Petyr. Not when the man I thought I loved never really existed in the first place.
I promised myself I’d never shed another tear for men like him, and I’m through breaking promises to myself. Because clearly, they’re the only ones that matter.
He played me. He doesn’t deserve my heartbreak, or anything from me.
Least of all a child.
I let myself drop backwards. For a long time, I just lie back on the bed. The silence presses in from every side, until it feels like my ears might burst.
My nails dig into my thighs. Sharp crescents bite into the fabric of my jeans. And no matter how long I stare at the darkness behind my eyelids, it always morphs back into him.
Petyr, saying cruel things to me. Smiling that vicious smile that looked nothing like him. Leaving me behind.
It’s the image of his back that lingers the most. He walked out without even looking at me. Like I was nothing.
All this time, I was just daydreaming. I let myself believe in a version of us that never existed. Kept picturing what it would be like to be married for real when he never wanted that for us.
I imagined us as a family. Him, me, our baby—the three of us against the world. Dumb morning routines and arguments over socks left lying on the floor, us stealing each other’s covers in the dead of night. I thought maybe, finally, I’d found a soft place to fall.
But the fall is never soft. The fall kills you.
Petyr Gubarev taught me that.
Because, while I was busy dreaming, he was busy lying to me. He planned behind my back the whole time and plotted how best to use me.
How much of what we shared was just another move in his game?
Too much, my mind answers. The rational part, the part I resolutely ignored. It was my only ally, and I didn’t even bother to listen.
I fell for Petyr. For his lies. God, I fell so hard.
It’s inexcusable. Not because it didn’t look real, but because I knew better.
I’ve seen what Bratva men do to the women in their lives. I grew up watching my mother fade into a shadow of herself and my sister be sold off like property. I saw my own freedom stripped away before I even had a chance to claim it. Clipped wings and gilded cages.
I swore to myself I’d never end up like that. I’d keep my guard up, no matter what.
I did a shitty job so far, but maybe I can still keep that promise now.
I stand abruptly. I can’t afford to sit here and cry. Not when the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been.
If I stay, Petyr will take the baby from me. He said as much himself. That thought alone is unbearable.
And what will happen to me then? God knows what he’ll do. A Danilo daughter married to a Gubarev pakhan… There are a thousand ways that story ends, and none of them are good.
No. One was good. It just wasn’t real.
I stop at the mirror, catch sight of my pale face and swollen eyes. For a second, I look exactly like my mother.
“Pull it together, Sima.” I force myself to speak. Remind myself I’m still fighting. “You’ve done this before. You can do it again.”
I survived once already. Disappeared without a trace and rebuilt a life from scratch. Everyone thought I was gone for good.
If I did it then, when I was twelve and penniless, I can sure as fuck do it now.
And this time, I won’t just be running for me. I’ll be running for us. For the little life inside me that deserves better than this bloodstained legacy.
“I need money.” My mind spins. “Cash.”
I start rummaging through my drawers for stuff to sell. Jewelry, designer clothes, anything that can fetch a buck from a pawn shop.
I’ll need to say goodbye to Sammi Banks, too. Gotta get myself a new name.
My heart clenches at the thought. All I’ve built, gone. My life, my friends, my job. Every piece of freedom I scraped together.
But that’s the beauty of freedom. You can always scrape together more.
You just need to find the strength to take off.
I start packing and think about places to go. Another state—better yet, another country. Maybe somewhere warm, crowded, where I can get lost in a sea of faces and won’t be asked too many questions.
I drag a shaky hand through my hair. Try to slow the panic clawing at my throat. “Step one, money. Step two, papers. Step three… Disappear.”
Saying it out loud makes it feel almost possible. Like I can string together these tiny steps and somehow build an escape route out of this mess.
The penthouse is silent. It reminds me that Petyr is long gone.
Luka is probably still outside, but the walls are soundproof. He might not know that Petyr thinks me a traitor and he’s not supposed to let me through.
Either way, I have to try. Before my husband comes back.
He can’t find out what I’m doing. If he even suspects, it’s over before it begins.
I press a hand to my belly. My baby is there, small and defenseless. One more piece that I won’t let Petyr use for his sick games.
“I won’t let him take you,” I whisper to the tiny life growing inside me. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”
And this promise, I swear I’ll keep.