As I stood there watching her, it was clear to me that I couldn’t imagine a future without her in it. This wasn’t just about my attachment to her; it was about how obsessed I was with how valuable she was.
One day soon, I’d have to make a choice. I’d either bring her in to help the organization or keep her away from all of this.
At the end of the day, it wouldn’t be my choice to make anyway. It would be hers.
Chapter 29 —Eva
Three Months Later
My belly was growing bigger by the day, and with it came a lot of pain in my bones and joints. I battled with mood swings all the time, not to mention the strange cravings that woke me up in the middle of the night.
I was in my third trimester and was approaching the delivery date at the speed of light. Every day when I woke up in the morning, I’d take about twenty minutes to imagine what it would feel like when I finally became a mother.
I would create fake scenarios in my head and bask in the bliss they brought. In all the scenes I cooked up in my head, I was happy with my husband and our child.
Demyon had proven that I had no reason to worry about a good role model for our kids. Judging by the way he treated me ever since the day he rescued me from those loan sharks, I had no doubt that he was going to make a great father.
He wasn’t just my protector; he was also my provider. He made sure I never lacked anything. Even in the middle of the night when I’d wake up craving something, he’d get out of bed and get it for me. Distance was never a barrier.
Sometimes, I wished I didn’t have to stress the life out of the poor soul. But it wasn’t like I had a choice; it was what the baby wanted. He hated it whenever I blamed the unborn child for my “craziness,” as he called it. Nevertheless, he always did as I wanted, even after complaining at times.
Demyon was the best thing that had happened to me. I never thought that I’d find so much peace and happiness with a man who once kidnapped and objectified me. At this point, it was hard to remember the times that I used to hate his guts because the only thing I felt for him was love.
I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he’d successfully snaked his way into my heart. Demyon Tarasov had proven to me that he was capable of affection as much as he was capable of destruction. I loved his dual identity; it was hot and sexy.
To outsiders, he was a wicked soul, feared and revered by many. But to me, he was the best husband in the world. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would eventually fall so deeply in love with this man, I most likely would have thought they were insane.
At first, it hadn’t seemed like there was going to be a happy ending for me. I thought my life was ruined and that I was done for. In all honesty, I’d already given up on myself, believing that as long as I was in this mansion, I’d never be free.
But fate had a different plan for me—for us.
I was so happy with Demyon Tarasov that I’d forgotten all about the man who called himself my father. I barely even remembered that he existed. Yes, his betrayal hurt me so much, and for a while, I thought it would take a long time to fully heal.
However, with Demyon’s help, I was able to carry on with my life. My father had made his choice; he’d chosen to abandon me, knowing what those loan sharks were capable of.
Initially, I wanted to believe he had gone looking for me at my dorm. I thought maybe by the time he disappeared, I was already entangled with Demyon and his world of violence. I wanted so badly for that to have been the case.
However, after a little digging, Demyon and I discovered that at the time he vanished, I hadn’t yet met the Bratva. This meant that he could’ve come for me; he could’ve taken me with him. But he hadn’t.
He chose to take all of his stuff and run, leaving me behind.
My heart had shattered when I found out what he did. It hurt me so much, especially because if I had gone with him, my life would’ve taken a different turn.
But on second thought, I was glad that he ran away alone. If he’d taken me with him, I never would’ve met Demyon. Yes, I wouldn’t have gone through the fire I went through—but I probably wouldn’t have been living a quiet life somewhere.
If I had gone with him, I would’ve spent a long time running and always looking over my shoulder. What kind of life would that have been?
With what I knew now, I was glad I’d gone through that fire. It hadn’t consumed me. It had purified me, and from those burning flames, this version of me was forged. This version had no fear and was secretly intrigued by violence and the idea of carnage. It was almost like my husband’s evil nature was slowly rubbing off on me. I found myself hating his enemies as though I were the one they offended directly. I was gradually drawn to the darkness, like a moth to a flame.
Maybe that was the price of being the devil’s wife.
It warmed my heart whenever I helped him solve a Bratva-related problem. It made me feel like an evil genius. And I loved it. I loved sharing my thoughts on what I believed would positively affect the organization.
I’d grown attached to the Bratva and was willing to do anything in my power to help. Maybe it was because of all those times he’d taken me to their meetings.
The Bratva was my husband’s business, and my husband’s business was alsomybusiness. I’d learned a lot about the organization, what they stood for, and how they operated.
Yes, they were all criminals.
