The Wife He Betrayed

PART 2 — The Woman Who Disappeared

Mark Seversky found the wedding ring at 8:15 the following morning.

It was sitting beside the mansion keys on the entrance table.

At first, he barely glanced at it.

“Where is Polina?” he asked his housekeeper.

The elderly woman lowered her eyes.

“Mrs. Seversky left last night, sir.”

Mark stopped.

“Left where?”

“She didn’t say.”

He picked up the ring. His jaw tightened.

“What kind of joke is this?”

Nobody answered.

He immediately called Polina.

The number was disconnected.

He called again.

Then he contacted her assistant, her driver, and everyone who might know where she had gone.

Nothing.

By nine o’clock, his entire security team had been ordered to find his wife.

But Mark had more important things to deal with that morning.

Stella was waiting for him at a private hospital after suffering a minor accident during a film production.

When he arrived, she was sitting on the bed, wrapped in a white blanket.

“Mark,” she whispered, “I’m frightened.”

He immediately sat beside her.

“I’m here. Nobody will hurt you.”

She glanced at his phone.

“Is Polina looking for you?”

Mark frowned.

“Why would she?”

Stella lowered her eyes.

“Perhaps she finally understands that you and I belong together.”

Before Mark could respond, his older brother, Alexander, walked into the room.

“Mark, we need to talk.”

“Not now.”

“Your wife is missing.”

Mark’s expression darkened.

“She’s probably throwing a tantrum. She’ll come back.”

Alexander stared at him.

“Do you even know what happened last night?”

Mark said nothing.

“Your wife performed at the Bolshoi. You promised to attend, remember? She waited until the final moment.”

Mark looked away.

Alexander continued.

“And yesterday, the foundation transferred its ownership without her authorization. You know how much that project meant to her.”

“Enough.”

“No, Mark. Not enough. You destroyed everything she built.”

Mark stood abruptly.

“Find her. That’s an order.”

But Alexander didn’t move.

“Brother, what if she doesn’t want to be found?”

For the first time, Mark had no answer.

Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away, I sat in a small private clinic in Saint Petersburg.

My suitcase was beside the chair.

My wedding ring was gone.

And my phone had been switched off.

The doctor entered with my medical records.

“Mrs. Seversky, your examination results are ready.”

I looked up nervously.

“Is something wrong?”

She smiled gently.

“Your pregnancy is progressing normally. You’re approximately twelve weeks along.”

I lowered my eyes.

The appointment I had scheduled was still on the system.

The doctor studied my face.

“Are you certain you want to proceed with the termination?”

My hand instinctively moved toward my stomach.

I remembered Mark’s empty seat at my concerts. His forgotten anniversary. His cold voice telling his lawyer that I would survive.

Then I remembered the tiny heartbeat I had heard during my first ultrasound.

“No,” I whispered.

The doctor nodded.

“Then we’ll cancel the appointment and arrange your prenatal care.”

I began to cry.

Not because everything was suddenly wonderful.

But because, for the first time in months, I had made a decision without considering what Mark Seversky wanted.

That afternoon, I contacted an old friend, Elena, who managed a small music academy outside Saint Petersburg.

“I need a job,” I told her.

She didn’t ask why I had left Moscow.

She simply replied, “I have a piano room, a violin studio, and a spare apartment. Come home, Polina.”

Home.

The word nearly broke me.

Three days later, I signed the divorce papers through my lawyer.

I requested no money from Mark’s personal fortune.

I only demanded the return of the charitable foundation and the assets that legally belonged to my project.

I didn’t want his mansion.

I didn’t want his cars.

And I certainly didn’t want his love anymore.

What I wanted was a peaceful life for my child.

Unfortunately, Mark Seversky was about to discover that losing me would be far more expensive than he imagined.