Novels by Flowervil

Damon Westwood The fresh air caressed my face, the sound of the waves was soothing. The sky was starry and the heavenly atmosphere of our hotel made the moment even more magical. The Maldives was an obvious choice for Sasha. She wanted to spend our honeymoon in the sun and tanning. So I followed him. I still couldn't believe it. Pinch me I'm dreaming. When Jonathan called me a few days after showing up at my house completely drunk, he said he had to talk to me and that it was a matter of life and death. At first I was skeptical, what he wanted to talk about was so important. He arranged to meet me at a restaurant not far from his office. He looked anxious. He only wanted Sasha to do something that she will surely regret in the near future. -I know you both love each other. He said. Then he offered me something. That I arrange to divorce before marriage. That way I will have the opportunity to propose to Sasha. I was confused and didn't understand why he would

Sasha J. Morales It's really weird that Jonathan wants to talk to me at this exact moment. I don't need an extra dose of stress. I already want to run away and leave everything behind. So I hope it's nothing serious. What’s so important to say? -It can't wait until after the ceremony? -He insists on seeing you now -Uh…Okay. You can give us a moment. -Yes my darling, no worries. My friends accompanied by my mother leave the room. The makeup artists and hair stylists also leave the room and I find him alone for a few minutes before Jonathan enters the room. He freezes the minute he sees me and I can feel admiration in his eyes. -Wow. You are really beautiful. -THANKS. You are just as beautiful. I pick at my nails not knowing where to put myself. This situation is oddly awkward. And normally she shouldn't be since it's my future husband standing in front of me. -I was really lucky to have you in my life. Eu? I'm seriously starting to panic so he takes my hands in his and le

Sasha J. Morales -Don't you think you should slow down on the Margarita, I don't want you to be half tipsy while the ceremony hasn't started yet. -Believe me, it’s the best solution for me to get through this day -You're exaggerating June. I say with a smile It was Saturday morning The Four Seasons was in turmoil Final preparations were underway It was the wedding day. I was completely exhausted even though it was just 11am My mother, June, Sam and Ethan were with me. They were getting their makeup done while Ethan put on his groomsman suit. June was on her third drink and she might end up on the floor if she continued drinking. -I can't believe my baby is getting married. -Me neither. I tell my mother Jonathan wanted us to get married out of town but I insisted we do it here. -I'm really stressed, gee, wouldn't someone have a joint please? -Sasha??? -What mom? ?? Everyone has their own solutions -I have an idea! June screams. How about we run away and run away to Mex

Damon Westwood -Where are we going darling? -It is a surprise. I took my mother in the evening for a little walk. I wanted to get some fresh air before taking him somewhere. We had been at the park for 30 minutes now and we were walking arm in arm. The evening runners were finishing their races, some flower sellers were still present and the lovers were holding hands to enjoy the last rays of the sun. It was really pleasant. -Tell me my son…so there really is more hope with Sasha? I huff before leading her to one of the free benches and making us sit down. -She's getting married, mom. -Damon it’s not- I cut it off immediately. Trying to convince me or give me false hope is completely useless. -Mom, stop, that’s enough. I know that you really like Sasha and that you also want me to be happy, but I think it's time to move on. All I wish for her is that she is happy and if that happiness is near Jonathan then so be it. It breaks my heart to say it out loud but it also makes

Sasha J. Morales I had locked myself in the guest room with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, lying on the floor. It was either half full or half empty. In short, I don't know, my mind is already clouded by alcohol. John hadn't come home yet even though it was well into the night and that suited me, I had no desire to confront him this evening. However, my parents were a completely different story. My mother had been trying to get her out of this damn room for an hour now but I needed to isolate myself a little. I thought I had finally put the past behind me but it caught up with me. Damn, no matter how hard I looked I don't know how they got their hands on this story. I was always careful not to be recognized and Sam always made sure our personal information didn't leak. So how is this possible? I pick up my phone before turning it on. It kept vibrating so I had to turn it off to get some peace. And it’s no surprise that I see missed calls from Ethan, Sam, June but also Jonathan

Damon Westwood -It’s my fault for going to see him. You're obsessed with a divorce that won't happen. Someone had to calm you down We were in our house, I had come home because I had gone to see friends not far away. And I was lazy to drive to my apartment. And I decided to talk to the crazy woman who will soon be my ex-wife. -You really think that involving my father will change anything in our situation. -Someone has to slap you on the wrist, you're behaving like a capricious kid. I massage my eyebrows, I'm on the verge of having a horrible migraine. I start to laugh quietly. -Ella what the hell are you looking for? We are going to divorce and nothing can stop me from doing it, not even my father. -Are you aware that I still have all my physical faculties and that if I refuse to sign you cannot force me to do so? You at least know that, right? Yes I know about it but she won't have a choice. She used me as a pawn to get revenge on Sasha and in our divorce she will be mine.

Alessia Volkov Three months had passed since I returned to the manoir.Three months since I stood at the threshold of the room that had once felt like a mausoleum and breathed life back into it.Three months of mending what was broken between Nikolai and me thread by thread, breath by breath. It hadn’t been easy. There were silences too long, wounds too deep, shadows we tried to ignore. But somehow, against all odds, we held on. And in those months, something beautiful had taken root. Not just trust, but comfort. Laughter. Quiet moments that needed no explanation. The kind of peace neither of us thought we’d ever earn.The manoir no longer felt haunted.It felt like home.Nikolai had finished what he’d promised erasing every remaining trace of Viktor’s influence from his empire. Ruthlessly. Surgically. Piece by piece, he tore down the scaffolding of corruption that had once held his name in place. He was focused, precise, unrelenting in his pursuit of a cleaner legacy. And I watched

Nikolai Volkov The days no longer dragged. They tore through me like bullets, relentless and precise, punching holes through whatever semblance of control I still had. There were no gentle mornings. No slow stretches of time to collect myself. Only the blur of responsibilities, the noise of an empire that didn’t care if its king was breaking beneath the weight of an empty bed. If I slowed down, I’d feel it again. The void. The screaming silence of a house that used to echo with her laugh, her footsteps, her defiance. The way she used to slam doors and then kiss me like it was her favorite form of punctuation. The warmth of her body tucked into mine at night. The way she whispered my name in the dark, as if she wasn’t quite ready to believe she’d found someone to say it to. Alessia. My wife. My fury. My fire. My undoing. She still hadn’t called. No texts. No messages. No divorce papers. But no return either. And somehow, the not knowing was worse than anything else. Wo

Alessia Volkov One month had passed.Thirty long, excruciating days since I walked out of the manoir. Since I left behind a marriage built on passion, silence, and too many half-truths. A month since I looked into Nikolai’s eyes and told him I needed time. Space. Distance.A month without him.Without his presence looming in a room like a shadow. Without the feel of his hands on my skin, his voice brushing the edges of my anger and softening it. Without the chaos that only he could ignite in my veins and calm with a look.I hadn’t asked for a divorce. Not yet.I hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t even looked at the envelope of letters he’d sent. Zayn had delivered them quietly, discreetly, with a look that said more than words ever could. He understood something had fractured.I kept the notes, though.Untouched, buried in the top drawer of my nightstand like they were weapons I wasn’t ready to wield. I wasn’t strong enough to read them yet. Because I knew Nikolai. He wouldn’t writ

Nikolai Volkov The days had blurred into each other like ink spreading across wet parchment messy, uncontrollable, permanent.Sunlight bled in through the tall windows every morning like a cruel joke, casting warm gold over cold marble floors she no longer walked on. The manoir, once a fortress of discipline and steel control, now felt too loud with emptiness. Every wall echoed with silence, a kind that rang louder than any scream. I used to find comfort in the solitude, in the stillness. Now, it mocked me.Every room screamed her name.Every hallway echoed with memories.Her laughter.Her footsteps.Her scent, still clinging to the air like a ghost refusing to leave.Since Alessia left, I hadn’t been the same. I wasn’t sure I ever would be.I haunted the corridors like a man condemned, dragging my feet like I could still feel the weight of her absence trying to suffocate me. I ate only when the gnawing in my stomach outmatched the ache in my chest. I slept only when my body collapse

Alessia Volkov The morning after the visit from Francesco De Luca, I sat in my father’s office, staring at the empty chair he had once ruled from. It still smelled like him — wood smoke, leather, and iron discipline. I hated how much I could still feel his presence. Hated how much of me was still wrapped up in who he had been. I had slept maybe two hours, the weight of the decision grinding against every nerve in my body.I found Luca in the conservatory, sipping espresso with the same bleak expression he’d worn since the funeral. The garden beyond the windows was overgrown, vines creeping up the stone like it, too, had stopped caring.“I need to talk to you,” I said, voice steady despite everything tearing inside me.He looked up, his eyes searching mine. “You’ve made a decision.”I nodded. “I’m going to take it. Father’s seat. The family. Everything.”Luca’s brows furrowed, but he said nothing for a long time. I could tell he was trying to gauge if I was doing this out of grief, ra

Alessia Volkov The ancestral manor hadn't changed. Not in its structure, not in its scent. The same quiet creaks in the staircase, the same cold marble floors, the same towering portrait of our mother in the main hall—eyes as solemn and knowing as ever. But the atmosphere was different now. Hollow. Echoing. As if the walls themselves were mourning.I stood there for a long moment after Luca opened the front doors, neither of us speaking. He looked exhausted. Older. Like he hadn't slept since the night it happened."You're really here," he finally murmured, stepping aside to let me in.I nodded, crossing the threshold, wrapped in a coat far too warm for the season, but somehow necessary. The weight comforted me."I needed space.""From him?"I didn’t answer.The silence between us stretched. Uncomfortable but familiar. We never had to speak too much. Our pain did the talking.The house, once full of servants and movement, was unnervingly quiet. Most of them had been dismissed or sent