LOGINIn the grand church where her dreams are meant to come true, Belva Moguel’s world shatters in an instant. A damning video plays—Pascha Romanov, the man she’s about to marry, tangled in betrayal with her best friend. The vows remain unspoken, the promises broken before they even begin. Heartbroken, Belva walks away from everything: the man she thought she knew, the family she cherished, and the perfect future she had once envisioned. Five years passed. In San Francisco, Belva rebuilds her life from the rubble of the past, living peaceful days with the big secret she’s been hiding: a little boy the world has never known, let alone his father. Yet, her fragile peace crumbles when destiny thrusts her back into the path of the man who once shattered her heart. A ghost from her past who ignites chaos with a single, reckless night of passion. His intoxicating charm pulls her into a whirlwind she swore she’d never revisit, leaving her reeling from the thunderous echoes of her mistake. Pascha is no longer the man she knew. He has turned into a cold, vengeful figure with a dark charm that shakes Belva's walls. Amidst the chaos, Belva must face the fact that Pascha has another woman by his side, while she desperately protects the secret about their son. As past and present collide, Belva is caught between love, betrayal, and a choice that could destroy everything. Can she hold on to the world she has built, or must she give up everything, once again?
View MoreThey say a kid won’t remember their fifth birthday.Clearly, they never met Max Romanov.The mansion tucked between the pine forests was barely visible from the entrance road now, thanks to the absolutely ridiculous amount of decorations. Silver robot-shaped helium balloons, neon lights, and a giant sign at the edge of the lawn that screamed, “MAXIMUS PRIME TURNS 5.”I planned all of it. Hired a Moscow decor crew that usually handled oligarch weddings. Even had my team build a small stage with hidden speakers directly synced to Max’s personal playlist.Because today....today was about him.My son. And I wasn’t half-assing it.Naturally, Max was far too busy chasing after two kittens, one gray, one orange, that he’d just received from Igor, who declared them “a personal gift from my Siberian cabin.”He named them Luna and Zuko, and was now desperately trying to get them into miniature capes and onto the driver’s seat of his toy car.“Come on, Zuko! You be the driver! LUNA, YOU'RE HIS B
Pascha.The pine trees outside the window swayed gently as the northern wind swept through their tops. The cries of winter gulls echoed faintly from the valley below, mingling with the creaking of hard-packed snow on the wooden rooftop.Or… mansion, as Belva would call it. But I still think that’s pretentious. It’s just a house. A house with a private sauna, a helipad, and a secret elevator to the basement, sure—but still just a house.I sat in my favorite leather chair, Max’s pick, staring at a projected P&L report on my tablet. The numbers were not pretty. But they were less infuriating than the fact that my father, Alexandr Romanov, had just handed over full control of Romanov International to me… and then jetted off on a second honeymoon to the Faroe Islands.“Perfect timing,” he said in that granite-carved voice of his.Translation: it’s time I stop being “the troublesome second son” and start acting like the head of the family.Unfortunately, he was right. Even more unfortunatel
“I... want to see Mikaela.”He just shifted slightly, turning to face me completely, one brow arched. “The nurse said her contractions came back briefly last night.”“Exactly,” I murmured, swallowing the weight that suddenly thickened in my chest. “I need to see her.”“You feel guilty.”“She was taken because of me. Dragged into Ben’s chaos because of me. And she almost lost her baby because of... everything.” I stood, smoothing down the sweater I’d been wearing since morning.“Bee.” He chuckled under his breath. “You don’t have to pay for other people’s wounds with your own body.”I looked at him, sharp. “If I don’t try to calm her, who else will? She’s been used by Ben for so long. Threatened. Silenced. Manipulated. So don’t tell me I don’t owe her anything.”Pascha lifted one corner of his mouth. “You know… I bought them an island.”I blinked. “What?”“A private island,” he said casually. “For Ronan and Mikaela. A wedding gift... or a ‘hey, you almost died twice this year’ kind of
The first thing I saw when the door opened was Max, standing on a little step stool beside the bed, spoon-feeding porridge to Pascha with an expression so serious, you’d think he was taming a tiger that might bite at any second.“Daddy, stop faking,” Max commanded. “It’s good. Chew. I see your right molar’s still not doing any work.”Pascha groaned and opened his mouth, chewing with the dramatic expression of a war martyr. “Tastes like prison food…”“You’ve never been to prison,” Max cut in without mercy. “So don’t lie.”I bit back a laugh and stepped inside. But before I could say anything, my attention was drawn to the far corner of the room, where Mischa was standing with her hands on her hips, nose-to-nose with her mother.Tatiana, hair swept into a pristine updo and dressed in a pastel spring ensemble that looked more runway than recovery room, was staring at her daughter with a mix of frustration and confusion.“I only said maybe you could consider going back to summer ballet,”
Maybe it was Pascha’s arms around me last night that finally let me sleep. Maybe it was the ginger orange juice my mother offered. Cold on my lips but warm in my chest. Or maybe my body was just too exhausted to dream.But this morning… I woke up without a nightmare.And somehow, that felt even str
I took one step forward.She didn’t move.I wasn’t sure if she even heard me, or if she was just letting gravity hold her in place. But when I got close enough to reach—Without a word, without a signal, Belva leaned into my chest.Her head landed right where my collarbone met the hammering rhythm o
I washed the blood from my knuckles in the steel sink. Cold water rushed over the red, rinsing it away like sin. But the warmth still clung beneath my skin.In the mirror above the sink, my reflection didn’t look unfamiliar, just not entirely mine.This wasn’t the face of a man who’d just saved the
I froze.The air in the room shifted. Not cold. Not warm. Just heavy....like my body was suddenly coated in some invisible, sticky liquid that clung to my skin and made it hard to breathe.Those footsteps... they were getting closer. The sound of his shoes on the metal floor hit like slow bullets,






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