LOGINWARNING: This book contains sensitive content. Not recommended for readers under 18 years of age. Two hearts scarred by a betrayal orchestrated by a monster. Tristan Delyon, the tempestuous heir, returned from the army transformed into a weapon of vengeance. He believed his father Cassius’s lies and abandoned the great love of his life, Aurora, leaving her completely at the mercy of the villain. Aurora Dupont Delyon, a talented goldsmith, survives as a trophy wife and prisoner of the man who forced her to marry to pay off her family’s debts. Beneath a mask of coldness and elegance, she hides an explosive secret: the son Cassius believes to be his heir is, in fact, Tristan’s child. When the two meet again, the attraction is a storm, but the distrust is a wall. Tristan needs to prove his loyalty, and Aurora needs to decide if she can trust the man who once destroyed her. But in a game where the enemy is the very architect of their lives, every step is a risk. How far can one trust an ex-lover turned monster? And how much must one sacrifice to protect the son who is the living proof of their forbidden love?
View More“Tell me this is a mistake.”
Walang kahit isang sumagot sa ‘kin.
Not my father, who looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Not my mother, whose trembling fingers were still wrapped around a glass of water na hindi naman niya ginalaw the whole time we were in the conference room. Hindi rin yung mga lawyers seated across from us, all polished smiles and expensive suits, staring at us like we were already guilty and just waiting for us to break.
And definitely not the man at the far end of the table.
Vladimir Von Del Fierro.
Nakaupo siya roon like the room belonged to him. Parang pag-aari niya ang buong building. Parang lahat ng tao sa loob had already adjusted to the simple fact na ang mga lalaking tulad niya, laging nakukuha ang gusto.
Black suit. White shirt. No tie.
No softness.
No mercy.
“Selene,” bulong ni Mama, her voice tight with warning.
Hindi ko siya tiningnan. Nasa pile of documents sa glossy conference table ang tingin ko. Statements. Copies of transactions. Supplier names na hindi ko naman kailanman nakita in my life. Approval signatures that looked close enough to ours to ruin us.
Three days ago, we were still trying to understand what had happened.
Today, we were sitting inside Del Fierro Holdings while people discussed my family’s future like wala na kaming laban.
One of the lawyers cleared his throat. “Ms. Monteverde, if you’re done, we can proceed.”
I turned to him slowly. “Proceed with what? Destroying my family before proving anything?”
Hindi nagbago ang expression niya. “The evidence is substantial.”
“The evidence is manipulated.”
“Can you prove that?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
Dahil iyon mismo ang problema.
We couldn’t.
Not yet.
Papa leaned forward. “Our company did not authorize those payments.”
Another man across the table adjusted his cufflinks. “Then how do you explain the approvals routed through Monteverde Procurement?”
“It wasn’t us,” Papa said tightly.
“Your signatures say otherwise.”
“Our signatures were forged.”
“Convenient.”
I snapped my head toward another lawyer. “Excuse me?”
Bago pa ‘ko makapagsalita ulit, a calm voice cut through the room.
“Enough.”
The entire table went silent.
Lumipat ang tingin ko kay Vladimir.
Hindi siya nagtaas ng boses. Hindi niya kailangan. One word from him was enough to silence a room full of men na kanina pa nagsasapawan sa pagsasalita.
Tiningnan muna niya ang mga taong nakaupo sa magkabilang gilid ng mesa bago ang parents ko.
Then finally, at me.
“If you want to accuse someone,” he said, his tone cool and flat, “do it when you have something more useful than sarcasm.”
Walang ibang nagsalita.
Of course they didn’t.
Vladimir tapped one finger against the folder in front of him. “Mr. Monteverde, your family’s firm handled procurement oversight for one of our biggest development projects. Millions were transferred through fake suppliers. The paper trail leads back to your company.”
“We are being framed,” Papa said.
“Maybe,” Vladimir replied.
The word landed hard.
My head turned so fast I almost looked ridiculous.
Maybe.
Iyon ang unang beses na may nagsalita from their side ng hindi puro tahasang paninisi.
I leaned forward. “If you think there’s even a chance we’re being framed, why are we sitting here like criminals?”
Vladimir’s gaze moved to me again. Sobrang talim ng mga mata niya.
“Because your family is still at the center of the case,” he said. “And because chance is not proof.”
I hated how calm he sounded.
Mas lalong nakakainis that his voice was the kind that made people listen. Low, smooth, controlled.
I folded my arms. “Then maybe you should spend less time looking at the easiest scapegoat and more time looking at who actually benefits from this.”
Bumuntong hininga ang isa sa mga lawyers like I had just overstepped.
Vladimir, however, looked almost amused.
“You think someone is using your family?”
“I know someone is.”
“And what exactly do you know, Ms. Monteverde?”
“That my family may be in trouble, but we’re not stupid enough to steal from a company powerful enough to bury us.”
A pause.
Then, to my complete shock, bahagyang ngumisi ang mapula niyang mga labi.
Not a real smile. But still enough to send a strange flicker across my skin.
“That,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “is the smartest thing anyone has said in this room today.”
Tinitigan ko lang siya.
He stared back. Those deep eyes.
God.
There was something deeply unfair about how composed he looked habang wasak na ang buong buhay ko. He looked too clean for this mess. Too untouched by it.
I looked away first. Out of self-preservation more than anything.
My mother took a shaky breath. “Mr. Del Fierro, please. If there’s anything we can do to cooperate—”
“There is,” he said.
Everyone froze.
Papa’s face tightened. “What do you mean?”
Pero malalim pa ring nakatitig sa ‘kin si Vladimir.
And for some reason, that made my pulse start pounding harder.
He closed the folder in front of him and stood.
Instantly, the room changed.
Maybe it was ridiculous that one man standing up could do that, but it did. Wala ng kahit isang nagsalita. Lahat ay sinundan lang siya ng tingin. Even ako, umayos nang upo without meaning to.
He buttoned his suit jacket with slow, effortless precision.
Then he said, “Mr. and Mrs. Monteverde, I’d like a word with your daughter.”
My father went still. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of us.”
“No,” Vladimir said.
Just one word.
Calm. Controlled. Absolute.
Tinignan ako ni Mama, panic flashing briefly in her eyes. “Selene—”
“It’s okay,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure if that was true.
Papa didn’t move. “I’m not leaving my daughter alone in a room—”
“You can either walk out now,” Vladimir cut in, “or have security walk you out for me.”
The silence that followed felt humiliating.
I stood straighter.
“Papa,” I said softly, forcing strength into my voice, “it’s fine.”
Papa’s jaw ticked.
He hated this. I knew he did.
But hate doesn’t matter much when your choices are already gone.
Isa isa ng lumabas ang mga lawyers at executives. My parents were the last to leave. Tinignan ako ni Mama like she wanted to cry. Papa looked like he wanted to kill somebody.
The door shut behind them.
Now it was just me and Vladimir.
Nanatili akong nakatayo sa kung saan ako nakapwesto, refusing to be the first to move.
He walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, bago siya dahan-dahang lumingon sa ‘kin. “Sit.”
Bahagya akong tumawa. “I’m not your employee.”
“Not yet.”
Napaayos ako ng tayo. I narrowed my eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Sit, Selene.”
The way he said my name made my stomach tighten in a way I immediately resented.
Nanatili akong nakatayo, my knees quietly trembling.
For a few seconds, neither of us moved.
Then he gave a small nod, like he had expected that.
“Fine,” he said. “Stand.”
I hated that he could make even that sound like permission.
“What do you want?” tanong ko.
“A solution.”
“You already have one. Investigate properly.”
“That takes time.”
“Then take it.”
“And while I do,” he said, stepping closer, “your family’s accounts stay frozen, the case escalates, the media tears your name apart, and your parents spend the next few months preparing for criminal court.”
My throat tightened.
He took another step closer.
I should have backed away.
I didn’t. Hindi dahil hindi ako affected, but because pride is a stupid thing to lose first.
“You’re enjoying this,” I said.
“No.”
He said it so simply that I almost believed him.
Then he added, “If I were enjoying this, Selene, you would know.”
Heat crawled up the back of my neck.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then stop talking in riddles.”
He watched me quietly for one beat too long before saying, “I can stop the charges from moving forward.”
“What?”
“I can suspend the formal escalation. Delay legal action. Keep your family out of prison while I handle the investigation myself.”
Hope hit too fast.
Sharp enough to hurt.
I swallowed. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m offering you an alternative.”
My brows pulled together. “Alternative to what?”
His gaze didn’t leave mine.
“To watching your family burn.”
My stomach dropped.
Slowly, carefully, I said, “What do you want from me?”
Hindi siya sumagot agad. He was staring at me so deeply na para bang hinuhubaran niya ‘ko sa isip niya.
And in that silence, something ugly and instinctive started crawling up my spine.
No.
No, no, no.
“You’ll live in my house for one year,” he said.
I stared at him.
The words did not make sense at first.
Then they did.
And suddenly the room felt too small.
“…What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s insane.”
“You’ll stay under my roof,” he continued at hindi pinansin ang reaction ko, “as my private maid and personal attendant.”
I laughed. A short, disbelieving sound. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am.”
“You want me to what? Serve you?” I snapped. “Because of a case you yourself aren’t even sure my family caused?”
“You’ll do as I ask. You’ll follow the rules of my house. You will remain there for one year.”
My chest rose and fell too fast. “No.”
Walang nagbago sa malamig na expression sa mukha niya.
“Think before you answer.”
“No,” I repeated, firmer this time. “You don’t get to buy people because you’re rich enough to ruin them.”
That made something flicker in his brown eyes. Para bang na-amused siya that I pushed back. He moved closer to me.
“You’re not being bought,” halos bulong na lang ang boses niya.
“This sounds exactly like that.”
“It’s a contract.”
“It sounds like control.”
His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before lifting again.
“It is.”
I froze.
Just for a second.
But that second was enough.
Enough for me to realize how close he was now. Enough to notice the clean scent of his perfume. Sapat para mapansin kung gaano siya katangkad kumpara sa ‘kin, kung gaano ka-defined ang panga niya, at kung gaano kadilim ang aura niya.
Sapat para malaman kong if I stayed standing exactly where I was, I’d be aware sa bawat hininga sa pagitan naming dalawa.
I took a step back.
His eyes followed the movement.
“Why?” I asked, my voice lower now.
A pause.
Then he said, “Just because.”
My pulse stumbled.
“That doesn’t answer anything.” I tried to be firm.
“Well.”
I shook my head. “You’re asking me to leave my family and live in your house like some kind of—”
“Like some kind of what?”
I swallowed hard. “Prisoner.”
Something unreadable crossed his face.
“Prisoners don’t get a choice.”
I stared at him. “Neither do I.”
For the first time, his expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But enough that I saw it.
A crack. Parang napagod na siyang makipag negotiate. Like he was tired of my sarcasm.
Then he straightened, all coldness back again.
“If you refuse,” he said, “the case proceeds without my interference. Your family deals with the consequences alone.”
That was it.
The knife laid flat on the table.
Iniwas ko ang tingin ko sa kanya for one second, enough para pakalmahin ang panginginig na hinding-hindi ko hahayaang mapansin niya.
My mother’s face flashed in my head.
My father’s silence.
Frozen accounts. Headlines. Courtrooms. Prison.
Then his voice came again, lower this time.
“Selene.”
I looked up.
Nakatingin siya sa akin like he already knew what I was going to say. Parang matagal nang decided ang sagot bago pa ako pumasok sa room na ito.
Men like Vladimir didn’t make offers unless they were sure they could make you accept.
“I need time,” I said.
“You have until tomorrow.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It’s what you have.”
Silence.
Thick. Dangerous. Breathing between us.
Something in my chest tightened again, and it had nothing to do with fear this time.
Iyon ang pinakanagpakaba sa akin. Iyong hindi ko maintindihan ang sarili kong nararamdaman.
Because I should have only hated him.
And I did.
I did.
So why was my heart racing so hard it felt like I might faint?
I forced myself to look away first.
“Tomorrow,” I repeated.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
I turned toward the door.
My hand had just reached the handle nang napahinto ako matapos marinig muli ang malalim niyang boses.
“You really don’t remember me, do you?”
I froze.
Slowly, I looked over my shoulder.
Nakatayo pa rin siya sa gitna ng silid, one hand tucked in his pocket, habang ang city skyline sa likod niya looked like it was only there to frame him and his well-toned body properly.
My brows drew together. “What?”
But he just shook his head once.
“Nothing,” he said. “Go home, Selene.”
I should have left.
Instead, I stood there for one second too long, nakatitig sa kanya habang sinusubukan kong intindihin ang kakaibang bigat sa mga mata niya.
Trying to understand why it felt like he had asked me a question that mattered more than anything else in that room.
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
Kaya lumabas ako roon nang kumakabog ang dibdib, nakabitin sa alanganin ang future ko, dala ang nakakasukang realization that by tomorrow, my life might no longer belong to me.
The air in the hall was beginning to feel heavy.It wasn’t the lack of oxygen, nor the heat from the bodies. It was the weight of the unasked questions, the looks that evaluated me, the whispers that spread like fire on dry straw.I needed a moment of silence, of air, of distance.“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said to Tristan, squeezing his hand under the table.“Do you want me to go with you?”“No.” I smiled, a smile I hoped was convincing. “Stay here. Hold down the fort.”He hesitated but nodded.I stood up, moving away from the table with the elegance I had learned to force over years of social events. The navy blue dress swayed gently, the low shoes kept my steps steady.The bathroom was at the end of the corridor, a spacious and silent space with golden mirrors and marble sinks. But I never made it there.Erika blocked my path.She was surrounded by three women, the same ones I had seen beside her throughout the entire dinner, the same ones who laughed in unison every time sh
TWO MONTHS LATERThe Delyon mansion was different.It wasn’t just Cassius’s absence, although that already made an immense difference, as if an invisible weight had been lifted from the house’s shoulders.It was the light. The windows, which used to be always covered by heavy, dark curtains, were now open, letting the morning sun enter in golden waves.The dark mahogany furniture had been replaced by lighter, airier pieces. The walls, once covered with somber portraits of Delyon ancestors, now displayed landscapes and flowers.Matilda and I had worked tirelessly for a month after we returned from Paraty. Transforming the mansion into something it had never been: a home.“The house looks different,” August observed as we climbed the entrance steps. “It’s more… bright.”“It’s the sunlight, my love.” I adjusted his shirt collar, feeling the heat of the day. “The curtains are open.”“I like it.”“Me too.”The days that followed our return were a whirlwind of adaptation. Tristan needed to
The dining table in Paraty was full.It wasn’t a big table — the house had been designed for intimacy, not banquets — but we had improvised.We joined two tables, spread light tablecloths, and added extra chairs that Mateo had found in the basement. The result was a mosaic of people, laughter, and dishes that blended together.August was sitting between Aurora and Matilda, eyes shining as he told them about the crab he had seen on the beach. Thaïs, beside Mateo, gestured with enthusiasm, describing something I couldn’t quite hear but that made Mateo almost smile. Raphaël, his arm still in a cast but already more animated, tried to eat with his left hand, with mixed results that Anya never missed the chance to tease him about.Luca and Zahir argued about football as if they hadn’t spent the last few months fighting for their lives. Edda watched everything in silence, a glass of wine in her hand, an almost imperceptible smile on her lips. Gregor, still a little distant but already integ
The sun came through the windows of the room in Paraty, golden and warm, as if the sky itself had decided to bless my recovery. The room was spacious, airy, with a view that looked out over the sea and the green mountains rising on the horizon. Far from the gray fog of Munich. Far from the smell of blood and gunpowder.Far from everything, except her.Anya was sitting in the armchair beside the bed, eyes fixed on the book she pretended to read. I knew she wasn’t reading. I knew because her eyes moved to me every three seconds, and because the page she was “reading” had been the same for twenty minutes.“You’re watching me,” I stated, my voice still a little hoarse.“I’m taking care of you.”“Taking care isn’t the same as watching.”“For me, it is.”She closed the book, finally, and stood up. The movement was fluid, natural, as if she had rehearsed the scene hundreds of times. She walked to the bed, sat on the edge, and ran her hand through my hair, a gesture so intimate I still wasn’t
The Bentley glided through the streets of Munich like a predator among unsuspecting prey. The night was perfect for business: dark enough to hide secrets, clear enough not to raise suspicions.Before leaving, I sent a message to Edda.T: Business dinner extended. I will not have dinner at the mansi
— “The safe… is in his office. Upstairs. It’s an old model, but extremely secure. Twelve-digit password, iris scanner, fingerprint reader. Only he has access.” I mentioned, remembering the satisfaction on Cassius’s face when he locked them away in front of me.A symbolism of my own imprisonment, wh
Tristan moved like a shadow through the corridors of the Delyon mansion, his steps silent, his presence a gathering storm. The weight of the past weeks pressed on him — the blood already spilled, the truths delivered like blades, the fragile alliance forged in fire and gasoline with Aurora. Yet ton
The taste of victory is always the same: cold, metallic, and expensive. Like the steel of a new rifle barrel. I had just closed the arms supply contract with Volkov’s regime. Five hundred million euros. A handshake, a signature, and the fate of thousands was sealed.Now, in the dining room of the D












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