The Volkov Heir Kept a Second Family for Fifty Years

Finding out my husband kept another woman didn't make me cry. It didn't make me scream. It just made me hand him the divorce papers. Dominic sat across from me with his hands flat on the table. Every muscle in him locked up tight. For a long minute, neither of us said a word. Then he picked the papers up and tore them in half. "I'll cut her off. I swear on my name." For fifty years after that, he came home. The books came to me. The streets came to me. His men called the house every morning to say the family was quiet and he was clean. Nothing moved in that city without me hearing about it first. Fifty years of that. Then at his funeral, a woman I had never met walked up to his grave. She looked me over like she already knew the measure of me. Then she bent down and kissed his photograph. "You don't know who I am. I know exactly who you are." "All those years, he gave me everything I asked for. The one thing he never gave me was his name. And he only ever gave me one rule. Stay away from you. Never come anywhere near you." She straightened up. Nothing kind in her face. Behind her stood a young man with Dominic's jaw, Dominic's eyes, the same flat cold mouth. "We had a family too. Him and me. I lost. But you didn't win either." Then she turned and walked off. I stood at his grave and laughed. Laughed until my eyes ran. Fifty years. Every one of them a lie. I couldn't get air in. Then the world went black. When my eyes opened again, I was twenty-five. Dominic sat across from me. Same room. Same day. The day I caught him. This time I wasn't going to protect him. This time I was going to let it eat him alive. He looked down at the papers. Tore them in half again. Same as before. I felt nothing. "Go ahead," I said. "Rip it up. I'll take it to your father before anyone else does." I kept my hands in my lap so he wouldn't see them shake. "You're not Don yet, Dominic. One word from me and you never will be." His breath caught. He went down on one knee. "Elena. I swear to you. I'll cut her off. Please." Fifty years of marriage taught me one thing. This man does not bend. And I wasn't dumb enough to think I'd walk out of here today. Leaving takes more than a signature. Leaving costs blood. I pulled my hand back. "Do whatever you want." He breathed out. Then right in front of me, he deleted her. The number. The pictures. Every trace gone. When it was done, he looked at me like I was the only woman alive. "We'll be good now. I swear." I smiled a little. Inside, nothing. What I wanted to know was this. Had he ever really stopped? Or had he just gotten better at hiding it? And the other thing. Where did they keep their house? That night, I waited for him to fall asleep. Then I took his phone out to the balcony. His password was my birthday. Of course it was. Around that house, every one of them would tell you the man worshiped his wife. When it rained, he carried me so my shoes wouldn't get wet. When the cramps hit, he stayed up all night warming water bottles for me. So how was I supposed to know? Fifty years, and it never once crossed my mind. The phone was clean. Every contact normal. I pulled up a tracker and tied it to my own phone. Then I slid the phone back under his pillow. Next morning, he kissed my forehead like nothing had happened. "I've got the docks this morning." "Mm." I watched him go. My mouth twisted. A few minutes later I called a car and followed him. He parked his own car near the east warehouses. Checked left. Checked right. Then climbed into a cab waiting on the corner and let it take him the other way. My hands balled up. My throat closed. "Follow that cab." The whole ride, my phone wouldn't stop going off. All him. Downtown for the books. Late tonight. Don't wait on me. No address. No name. Nothing I could check. Last time around, he sent me pictures. His desk. His schedule. Proof. I thought that was a man trying. Now I knew better. A man with nothing to hide doesn't hand you his location. He hands you a lie and dares you to check it. I took a breath. My chest was so tight I couldn't pull air in. I rolled the window down just to breathe. Then my phone lit up. A message from the family office. Milan branch is short a hand. Three days. Take it. I didn't think about it. I hit accept. An hour later, the cab stopped behind his, in front of a house on the edge of the city. A woman stood at the door with her arms crossed, looking miserable. "You said you'd explain today!" Dominic got out. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "Come on. Inside." It went through me like a needle. Then the sky opened up. Rain came down in sheets, like the whole city was laughing at me. My hands shook so hard I could barely pay the driver. I got out of the cab. I walked toward that house. One step at a time.