Page 92 of Sweet Deception

Maria’s laugh was hollow. “I see now. You’re weak, Anna. But I’m not.” She turned to Gleb. “You slammed an Italian princess onto a table. You’ll regret it.”

I felt Gleb’s fury simmering beside me, but I held onto his wrist. “Please,” I whispered. If I weren’t here, he might kill her.

Maria grabbed her bag and stormed out.

Gleb sat back, jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might snap.

I hesitated. “What will you do about your family?”

“I’ll handle it,” he said, voice tight.

I swallowed. “You really never plan to end this marriage?”

He exhaled sharply. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“But there is no love between us. How can you...”

His gaze burned into mine. “I will never let you go. Understand that.”

The words sliced through me.

Gleb’s phone rang.

He answered, listened, then his face darkened.

CRACK.

His phone shattered against the wall.

I flinched. “Gleb?”

His eyes locked onto mine, blazing with rage. “My sister,” he ground out, “has been with your father this whole time.”

The floor seemed to tilt beneath me. “What...?”

His voice was low, lethal. “She’s the one in the video. Not Maria.”

My world spun. Oh God.

“I knew it,” he muttered bitterly, then walked away.

I collapsed onto my chair, breathless.

There’s no future for us. None. Our families are too broken.

And maybe... so were we.

I had clung to the idea, stupid, desperate, that maybe Gleb and I could build something real. That despite the violence, despite the lies, we could carve out some small sliver of happiness.

But I was wrong. So, so wrong.

It was never realistic, was it? A marriage forced between two families drowning in blood and betrayal. This wasn’t some fairytale where an heir could magically fix decades of animosity.

My thoughts spiraled, tangled in confusion. I didn’t want to do this, but I had no choice. With trembling hands, I pulled out myphone and called my mother, the last person I ever wanted to speak to again.

She answered on the second ring. “Anna. Maria told me how they’ve brainwashed you over there. Oh, my poor daughter! Do you hate your own parents now?”

The accusation hit me harder than expected. My throat tightened. “Mom...” My voice cracked, and before I could stop myself, I started to cry. “Can you get me out of here? Please?”