Prologue
Adelaide
I always thought I’d live a long, happy life. Death wasn’t something I ever thought about. What was the point? It was inevitable in old age. There was no way I saw my life ending early. I wasn’t someone who ever made waves or caused any problems. I always helped where I could. For want of a better description, I was the epitome of a good girl.
Take the last few months, for example. My life changed completely with one greedy decision. My family were heavily involved in the media. Daddy considered himself a bit of a know-it-all when it came to what sells. Money made the world go around for him. It’s how he landed my ex-model of a mother, where he was, to put it nicely, an asshole. They were considered to be like chalk and cheese, and to be honest, if it weren’t for my father’s wealth, my mom would never have looked at him.
She was a shallow person, still is. Age hasn’t changed her outlook on life—just her beauty—which has come at the cost of her ability to move much of her face. She looks youngish, if people were plastic. So, money was necessary in my mother’s life, and then I’ve got to think about my father.
He loved money.
He loved power.
They were well-suited for each other in that regard, but while they were spending all this money, they were not making it. My father’s family business slowly started to decline and rather than take the warnings his financial aides insisted on, he ignored them all, and just did what he wanted to do.
As far as he was concerned, there was no shortage of juicy gossip. But he didn’t realize that people had so many other avenues to find what they wanted. My father’s business went into the toilet very quickly. I’m not sure exactly when the harsh reality of what he’d been doing struck. It could’ve been when the debt collectors came calling. The expensive cars he’d never driven, but bought just to flash how wealthy he was, or not, in his case. Possibly the scene caused by my mother at one of those branded fashion boutiques because her credit card was denied.
I’ve also forgotten to mention another important piece of the puzzle: my lovely sister Bethany. She’s not lovely at all. In fact, many would call her a spiteful bitch, but she’s beautiful, and I’ve watched many men fall over themselves to impress her. She inherited our parents’ need to spend money.
Why am I thinking about all of this? Well, as I look at my husband, his chest heaving as pain explodes in mine, I can’t help but think about what led me to this moment. What drove me to this abandoned warehouse, where my husband Andrei Belov was hurting my best friend, Nathan. I don’t know who sent me the details, but it came through as a text that my presence was needed in this place.
I am not an idiot.
From the moment my father called me back to his mansion and told me I was going to be marrying Andrei Belov, there was no hiding just how desperate my parents had become. Their thirst for greed and power led to this moment. He was supposed to marry my sister. She was the most beautiful, the loveliest. All my life, that was what I heard.
“Why couldn’t you be more like your sister?”
“Why do you have to be ugly and fat?”
In the beginning, it hurt. No daughter wanted to hear those nasty words from her mother. How she’d pull on my hair in anger because I wasn’t perfect. It’s why I’ve been able to escape most of the press chasing after me. While my parents were happy to pose for pictures with Bethany, they kept me home, locked me up, like I was some dirty secret they couldn’t get rid of.
Until I became their one saving grace. Bethany messed up big time. I was not exactly sure of the full details, just that her marriage to Andrei Belov was off, and well, the only remaining daughter was me, so guess what? I was the one walking down the aisle with him.
Bethany hated me for it.
My husband wasn’t a good man. No, he was a man aligned to the Volkov Bratva. Ivan Volkov to be exact. I’d heard stories of how deadly they were. Again, I don’t know how my parents got close to this deadly man, but here I am, pain exploding in my chest.
Before I fall to the ground, I gasp.
Pain.
Unbearable pain.
For some reason, I think back to my wedding night. Bethany had told me how cruel Andrei was. How he’d make me bleed, cut me, make me wish for death long before he’d grant it. I’d never been so scared.
Pain was the one thing I couldn’t stand.
Tears filled my eyes and the image of my husband went blurry. At some point, I think he caught me.
“Fucking kill them,” Andrei said.
“I … I…”
“Shut the fuck up, Adelaide. Conserve your strength. You’re not dying on me.”
“I … I’m so cold.”
My hands were like blocks of ice.
The world had already started to spin.
Sickness swirled in my gut, and the noise that had been almost deafening seemed to fade into nothing.
Peace.
That was what I wanted.
Was it so hard to ask for? To not be part of this world anymore?
I’d never longed for death. My life wasn’t a great one, but there were moments of happiness, of joy, of … life. That’s what I wanted. Not this marriage. Not to be connected to the Volkov Bratva.
I wanted to be alone, and as the world started to fall away, I wondered if death would be my one salvation.
Chapter One
Adelaide
Six Months Earlier
It wasn’t normal to fear your husband on your wedding night. Not unless it was an historical romance novel, and trust me, this wasn’t. Staring around the hotel room, I noticed it was far more luxurious than my bedroom last night, which had just a single bed. Bethany had demanded to be put in better accommodations, so our parents switched the rooms. Like always, I’m lucky to get anything, not that I’m complaining. It’s easier to keep quiet and just let Bethany get anything she wants. If I don’t, there’s always a consequence where I’m the one who ends up paying.
Andrei hadn’t said a word, but then, he’d not said anything to me for most of the day. Apart from, “I’m here now, pretend to be fucking happy.”
I’m not sure exactly what Aurora said to him, but either way, his presence kept Bethany away from me, and for that I’m grateful. My sister is a spiteful soul. Even though she was the one who fucked up in this situation, our parents still treated her like she was a princess, rather than a disappointment, which was how I got treated. Between the dress and the cake, everything about this day had gone wrong.
Staring at the bed, I know there’s no way I’m going to sit on that thing. I can’t. With Andrei being his usual quiet self, I decide to leave him to it.
I’ll figure some way of getting out of this monstrosity of a dress. I’ve never been the kind of woman to think in advance about her wedding. I never spent hours cooing over celebrity events, even the ones we were invited to. This wedding was all Bethany. The bride may have changed, but the dress, the cake, the band, the guests—they’d all been her choice. This wedding had been a nightmare. The only part of it I found deeply comforting was Aurora. Another woman married to a member of the Bratva. At least she’d looked happy. Could any woman married into this kind of life truly be happy? Was Slavik in love with her?