Chapter 12
892 Words
Angelica POV
Time doesn’t fix everything.
But it softens the edges.
The months after my rescue are quiet in a way I didn’t expect. No tests. No traps. No hidden rules. Alexander keeps his word—painfully so. Cameras stay where they belong. Guards keep distance. He asks instead of commands.
And slowly… I breathe again.
We find a routine.
Mornings where he drinks coffee while I stretch in the dance studio. Evenings where we eat together—sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about nothing important. Nights where he holds me without asking for more.
He lets me choose.
That changes everything.
Trust doesn’t arrive suddenly. It seeps in, little by little, through consistency. Through restraint. Through the way he steps back even when I know every instinct in him is screaming to pull me closer.
I start to believe him.
Not just in his protection—but in his effort.
That’s why I decide to surprise him.
He’s been busy all week, buried in work, and I miss him in that quiet way you don’t notice until it’s heavy. So I dress simply, tell Elena I’ll meet her later, and head to one of his clubs downtown.
Just one drink.
Just us.
The club is alive—music, lights, bodies moving. I slip past the main floor easily; everyone knows who I am. His wife.
I head toward his office.
The door is slightly open.
I hear a woman’s voice.
Familiar.
My heart stops before my mind catches up.
I step closer.
And there she is.
Anna.
She’s standing too close to him. Too comfortable. Her hand is on his arm like it belongs there. She looks exactly like the photos—sharp, elegant, confident in a way that feels practiced.
She’s saying something I can’t hear.
Alexander’s back is to me.
This is it.
The moment Max warned me about. The ghost I never stopped fearing.
My chest tightens so badly it hurts to breathe.
I don’t wait to hear more.
I don’t want to.
Because whatever comes next—whatever explanation exists—I know myself well enough to know I can’t survive watching him choose her.
Not again.
Not after everything.
I turn and walk away before either of them can see me.
I don’t cry until I’m in the car.
And even then, it’s quiet.
Controlled.
I don’t leave a note.
I don’t confront him.
I book the first flight to Greece.
Because if Alexander Petrov still belongs to Anna in any way—
Then I refuse to be the woman who waits to be replaced.
⸻
Alexander POV
“Get your hand off me.”
My voice is low. Lethal.
Anna freezes—but she doesn’t look afraid. She never was. She always mistook my silence for weakness.
“I just wanted to talk,” she says smoothly. “Is that a crime now?”
“Yes,” I reply. “When you come uninvited.”
She laughs softly. “You married quickly. I didn’t think you were capable of that.”
I turn fully to face her. “You don’t get to comment on my life.”
Her gaze sharpens. “You still watch the door when I enter a room, Alex. You always did.”
I step closer—not intimate, not gentle.
Threatening.
“That habit kept me alive after you,” I say coldly. “Now leave.”
She scoffs. “You think that girl will stay? She’s temporary. You don’t belong to women like her.”
Something inside me snaps.
I grab her wrist—not hard, but firm enough to make my point—and shove it away from me.
“Say her name again,” I growl, “and I will forget every reason I ever had not to ruin you.”
Her smile finally fades.
“You love me,” she says, desperate now. “You always will.”
“No,” I say without hesitation. “I learned from you.”
She stares at me like she doesn’t recognize the man standing in front of her.
“Get out,” I say. “And if you ever come near my wife again, there will be consequences you won’t survive.”
She leaves.
Satisfied.
Certain I’ve closed the door for good.
I sit down, exhale, and reach for my phone.
To call Angelica.
It goes straight to voicemail.
I frown.
I check the club. The staff. The cameras.
And then I see it.
Her.
Standing outside my office.
Watching.
Turning away.
My blood turns to ice.
“No,” I whisper.
I’m on my feet instantly, tearing through the club, but she’s already gone.
I call her again.
Nothing.
I call Elena.
Nothing.
Then Ivan.
“She’s not at the mansion,” he says slowly. “Her passport is gone.”
The world tilts.
“She didn’t leave a message,” I say. It’s not a question.
“No.”
I grip the edge of my desk until the wood cracks.
“She thinks I chose Anna,” I realize.
And for the first time since I became king of this city, I am completely powerless.
Because wars I know how to win.
But this—
This is the woman who became my home.
And she just left it.
And I don’t know if she’ll ever come back.
- Writer
