Game on.(chapt.5)

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• Twisted vows    A mother’s confession.(chapt.16)

  Alessia's POV.The atmosphere was thick with tension as I stepped outside into the night, letting the door swing shut behind me. My brain was in a whirl, so it felt like I couldn't breathe. But I knew where I was headed. Now that I was stepping out of there, there was no turning back.The deafening silence of the night was broken by the shaft of light from my headlights as I drove through the streets. I had no business being out driving at night—my heart was still sore from the betrayal. None of it mattered, though. Not when the details I had been searching for were under the same roof as the person who could be behind all this drama and secrets, and Nikolai Volkov, the genius of the drama and secrets.I walked up to the De Luca mansion—my childhood home—and it didn't sit well with me. Familiar and warped, like a warped dollhouse. I didn't see it fit to ring the bell. I had my old key.The door creaked as I pushed it open, the silence greeting me like a specter. I entered the darkened

• Twisted vows    Game of truths.2 (chapt.15)

  Alessia's POV.The moment I swung my door open, the weight of the day descended upon my shoulders like a shattering sky. I let the door close behind me, leaning on it for an extra fraction of a moment. The silence in the room was suffocating, a echo of the chaos whirling inside my mind.I kicked my heels to the side and walked towards the bathroom, discarding the day like cast-off skin. The shower pounded me, steam curling upwards, but nothing could rinse away what clung to my mind. Not today. Not when the past would not remain still.I dried off and wrapped myself in a robe and headed straight to the living room. The warm light of the table lamp cast golden shadows on the mahogany desk, where I had laid out the evidence—photos, logs, call records, handwritten notes from the secret room, and that damned photo of Matteo. I didn't even know if that was his real name anymore.I took the photo of him once more—the one where he was out of focus in the back of a family reunion I never recal

• Twisted vows    threads of betrayal.(chapt.14)

  Alessia's POV The room was chill—chillier than it had any business being, as if the air itself had been frozen in time. Dust shrouded everything in the secret room behind the bookshelf, but what made me uneasy wasn't the silence. It was the feeling that this room had been waiting for me. One overhead light came to life as I switched it on. My breath was caught in my throat. There were boxes—marked and unmarked. Folders stacked high as a mountain. I moved to a little side table cluttered with personal effects—her old watch, a notebook, and a crumpled photograph. My heart jumped. It was a picture of one of our family reunions, years before. But my eyes caught something out of the ordinary. In the background, partly concealed, stood a fuzzy figure. My fingers curled up. Matteo. My supposedly dead ex. In the backdrop of a family gathering I could not recall ever seeing him at. He had not been my man back them. So why had he come? I shivered. My phone quivered with indignation in m

• Twisted vows    Same date, six months later. (chapt.13)

  Alessia's POVFour days. Four agonizing, painful days of waiting — pretending to be interested in boardroom meetings, grinning at sales charts, sipping coffee that I didn't even enjoy.Each second felt like a force bearing down upon my chest, and no amount of deep breaths could bring me air enough. Something in me was certain — certain that as soon as I received that call, life would be changed forever.And I was proven correct.I received the text as I headed out of work."We must speak. You have an e-mail. High priority."My fingers shook as I opened the email. There were a few attachments — video screenshots, documents, a travel history. I opened the first file and saw the footage load.Matteo.There he was. Standing in front of me. On security camera footage at the airport. Four years prior. Alive.He strolled through customs nonchalantly, merging with the rest of the passengers. My gut twisted as I observed. He was meant to have gotten on a flight — a flight that crashed. One the

• Twisted vows    Game of Truth.(chapt.12)

  Alessia's POV The glass doors of Romanov Industries slid open with a whisper, and I stepped inside as if I belonged. As if my mind wasn't unraveling thread by thread. The marble beneath my feet gleamed like it had no idea the world could fracture overnight, that a ghost from the past could slip into the present and stain it with questions. I clothed my armor nicely—power suit sharp, heels firm, face expressionless. But inside, I was disintegrating. The ascent in the elevator had been quiet, save for the soft thrum of machinery and the muffled boom of my heart within my ribcage. My reflection in the mirrored walls was sleek, poised. But I wasn't. Last night's revelations hadn't rattled me just—had uncovered cracks deep into the center of everything that I'd thought I'd known. Matteo. Elena. Nikolai. I arrived at the boardroom a few minutes early, catching the eye of the men already seated. A few nodded in polite greeting, some smiled warmly. Daniel smiled encouragingly from his po

• Twisted vows    A game of truth(l) (chapt.11)

  Alessia's POV As I pushed my door wide, the silence wrapped itself around me like a cloak. No quiet in its peace. No safety in its stillness. Only… tension. The sort that makes your skin prickle and constricts your lungs. Sophia hung back behind me, alert eyes scanning all the dark hour could possibly bring, her footsteps tentative as if on glass. I dropped my keys onto the console table next to the door, the clatter too loud, too final. I did not speak a word. I just kicked my heels off and padded deeper into the apartment, scarcely noticing the way my legs moved me towards the sofa. I did not cry. Not yet. I could not. I felt that if I ever parted my lips, the shriek that escaped would never subside. "I'm not leaving you alone tonight," Sophia said, closing the door behind her. Her tone was gentle, but firm only Sophia could be — as if she was holding me together with her mere presence. "I'm fine," I fibbed, folding up my legs on the couch. My own voice was distant — like i