Page 33

Valeria

C hester supervised my every step like an eagle. He was already up when I woke up Zara. He prepared breakfast, and he insisted on both of us driving her to school.

I dreaded staying with him alone, but I had no choice.

We got into the car, and he acted like we were a perfect family.

But he couldn't fool anyone. Zara was quiet the entire time, and I couldn't even look at him.

The hatred toward him grew with every passing second.

I wanted to claw his eyes out and watch him bleed on the sidewalk like an animal.

I didn't understand those intense feelings that possessed me, but they were justified. Chester made me helpless. He took away my freedom, and I wished to find the strength to fight and destroy him.

Two days passed without change, and I turned into a nervous, edgy mess.

Chester didn't attack me, nor did he provoke an argument.

He acted like nothing happened and we were okay.

But I expected a strike whenever he walked around me or called my name.

I couldn't find peace. He deeply traumatized me, and I only thought about the ways to flee from him.

And to top it all off, my stalker disappeared. He didn't text me. He didn't stand under my balcony or on the street. He didn't visit me at night when Chester left for a few hours .

My last words to Zefarin glared at me from my phone's screen, making me more anxious than my singing husband in the kitchen. I believed him when he wrote that I was his life and his heart and that he would fight for us. Yet his silence proved otherwise.

But what did I expect? I pushed him away, claiming I returned to my husband.

He didn't have any reason to stick around the married woman.

Maybe if I told him Chester threatened me, we could devise a plan to escape.

Still, Zefarin didn't need any of this. He could find a single girl without any baggage or husband to deal with.

He left me, and I couldn't blame him. I only wished we said a proper goodbye.

Preparing for work, my mind swirled with memories of the time with Zefarin, so I didn't notice Chester watching me. Only when he rose behind me and pulled me against his body did I gasp in surprise, and my insides twisted with fear.

"Who did you dress up for?" he asked in a hostile voice, squeezing me tightly. It was uncomfortable, but the more I wriggled, the tighter his hold was.

"No one," I replied, trying to get rid of his violent hands. “I'm going to work."

"To Zyon," Chester barked, letting go of me. I instantly aimed for the door, almost running from his reach, but he followed me into the hall. He blocked the front door with his tall frame, checking me from head to toe. I squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze, wanting nothing else but to get out.

"If I find out you're sleeping with him," Chester rumbled, making me cringe, "I'll make sure you never see your daughter again." He pushed me into the wall behind me, caging me with his arms and body. "Don't force me to do things I don't want to do. Okay?"

"Okay," I breathed, hopeless tears welling in my eyes.

"Behave, Valeria," he warned, his disgusting expression almost making me gag. He handed me my car keys and opened the door for me, but before he allowed me to leave, he leaned closer and pecked my lips. It was highly unexpected and, in my eyes, totally inappropriate.

I ran from the apartment building as quickly as possible.

Shutting my car door, I gripped onto the steering wheel, staring up front.

My vision was blurry, and my entire body trembled.

A scream full of misery clawed at my throat, desperate to get out.

Deep sobs flew from my mouth, and I had to push my fist inside to silence them .

The breakdown took only a moment, but it exhausted me as if I had cried for over an hour. I sat in the driver's seat, drained of strength to continue with this life.

Chester's threat again disarmed me, and all I could think about was Zara. She was often with her grandmother, and I believed Lisa, but Chester made it perfectly clear he didn't respect his mother. He forcefully took his daughter from her, waving a knife at her face when she objected to his actions.

Lisa only admitted that it happened when I pushed, claiming that Zara told me everything. My little girl cried a waterfall of tears while talking to me. She was petrified of her father, and I didn't know how to stop him.

I flirted with the thought of asking Zyon for help, yet Chester's words discouraged me. He didn't consider Zyon a problem. His confidence made me wonder who had his back.

Because Chester wasn't powerful. He had friends who would give him money or cover his ass, but they were mostly his former colleagues from the Wall Street.

We didn't attend parties with politicians, and we didn't dine with CEOs of major corporations.

Those people belonged to Zyon's circle. So, the only explanation was that Chester signed his soul away to the devil.

But who could possibly be more influential than the Zhumagulov brothers?

Two months ago, I didn't know anything about them. Shit, I didn't know they existed. However, what I discovered was disturbing and, for every sane person, frightening.

According to the Independent News, they were psychopaths obsessed with power and money.

They were highly intelligent and effective in their efforts.

Zyon was a known mob boss. Police held him accountable for multiple crimes, but he always slipped away.

There was always a loophole that provided an escape.

And it was the same with Malin, Dorian, and Ramzan.

Malin was a suspect in a dozen unsolved murders that were full of torture and mutilation, while Dorian would be an accomplice in those crimes.

Yet again, the investigation proved nothing, and they walked out of the police station with broad smiles.

The only one who ended up behind bars was their youngest brother, Ramzan, who was in prison in Russia. I couldn't find anything about his case, but considering Zyon hadn't gotten him out, it meant he had committed some severe crime .

Could there be someone equally powerful as them who wanted to get rid of them?

It would explain attacks on Zyon and my husband's bold statement about killing him if he tried to interfere in our marriage.

It was a long shot, but something told me my thinking was accurate.

Chester was in a silent war with Zyon, and I was in the middle.

But did Zyon or his brothers know about my husband? Did they employ me to get leverage on him?

My thoughts and questions made me laugh while waiting at the red light. Chester didn't care for me. He couldn't bear the idea of me leaving him. His ego wouldn't survive it, but other than that, I was nothing to him. My past experiences with his new self confirmed it.

Before, he at least pretended to be in love with me. After an argument, he brought me flowers or a gift, but since he forced me to return, it felt like he was punishing me for leaving. He didn't hit me, yet his behavior suggested he was furious with me.

I didn't care about his moods, feelings, or forgiveness, but living with him was more challenging every day.

I didn't want Zara to experience our constant fights.

I didn't want to be afraid around him because I didn't know what he might do.

It was like walking on pins and needles. He could snap at any moment.

I got out of my car before the casino's front entrance. The security gave me my card so I didn't have to use the hidden back door.

In the distance, I noticed Zyon or one of his brothers talking with someone before the fireplace where we had dinner. But when I came closer, he quickly disappeared inside. I didn't know if it was Zyon, Malin, or Dorian, but it was weird. They never avoided me.

Dorian always looked like an excited puppy when he met me, and Malin, even with his emotionless face, seemed okay with exchanging some polite phrases. Not to mention that Zyon sometimes circled me like the planet Earth circled the sun.

Shaking my head at their strange manners, I prepared for my shift. Everything was in perfect order, exactly as I left it two and a half days ago.

The place was packed to the brim. There wasn't an empty slot machine, and the roulette tables were full.

The blackjack tables had a waiting list, and the poker tournament had three hundred players.

I had my hands full keeping things under control, and I thanked God for amazingly trained employees.

They ensured the games went smoothly while I had to deal with a massive pile of paperwork .

For the entire night, none of the Zhumagulovs showed up. I asked the security guard if they were inside, but the only reply was a shrug. I saw Jamal hurrying to the back around midnight, but nothing suggested the bosses were present.

At three o'clock in the morning, I packed my things, ready to leave, when the security guy brought me another paper to sign.

"It's from the accountant, Mrs. Kellerman," he explained when I rolled my eyes tiredly. "Mr. Zee had it in his office but forgot to give it to you."

"So, he sent you?" I raised a brow, for the first time feeling a chance to get some information about Zyon's whereabouts.

"No, Jamal sent me," the bodyguard replied, handing me the paper. "He said that without this, you won't get your paycheck on time."

Taking the page from him, my eyes checked the document. At the bottom was the dotted line for my signature and the other for Zyon. But what caught my attention was his name.

Zyon Z. Zhumagulov

I didn't find anything about his middle name. Considering his father was Russian, I presumed he didn't have one. Yet the letter Z smiled at me from the paper, igniting the fire of doubts in my chest.

"Do you know Zyon's middle name?" I asked, lifting my gaze to the bodyguard standing at the threshold, who frowned at me.

"No, Mrs. Kellerman. We all call him Mr. Zee," he answered, his brows furrowed. "Why?"

"I'm just curious." I waved my hand nonchalantly with a wide smile on my face. However, my mind was on alert. Could the name hidden behind the letter Z be Zefarin?

I returned home exhausted from the demanding job and constantly thinking about my stalker.

I typed the message to him a few times but never found the courage to send it.

He respected my wish; he left me alone, and I didn't know how to tell him that I needed him in my life without sounding desperate and stupid.

Finding Chester sleeping in our bedroom with Zara beside him, I showered and lay on my daughter's bed. For the first time since we came back, I felt prepared to sleep. Maybe it was because of fatigue, or perhaps it was because my husband was in another room .

Anyway, I pressed the phone against my chest and curled into the ball under the cover, trying to find some bravery to send the short message. Eventually, I rolled my eyes at my foolishness and pressed the button, anxiously awaiting the reply.

Valeria : I miss you.

Nothing. Ten minutes passed, and he didn't write back.

Tears burned in my eyes as I got up and stood before the window, looking outside at the empty street.

Somehow, I hoped to see him there. He should've been outside, staring at my window, but he wasn't there.

My heart almost broke with the realization of probably never seeing him again.

“I missed you, too, mon c?ur.”

I winced in surprise when the familiar, deep, muffled voice reached my ears, and a pair of solid arms embraced me. I turned around, pressing my palms against his chest, unable to say a word.

"Did you really believe I gave up so easily?" he asked, brushing the hair away from my face. "You don't know me at all."