Chapter 3: The Forced Claim

Iliyana barely remembered how she made it out of the café. 

Her legs were shaking the entire way home. The cold wind bit into her cheeks, but all she could see when she closed her eyes was John Alex standing on the sidewalk, with her mother's red scarf wound tightly around his knuckles. 

She pushed the front door of her house open, completely out of breath. 

Her father, David Lavish, was standing in the hallway. He looked up, his face tight with anger. 

"Where have you been all this time?" David demanded, crossing his arms. "Why are you coming home so late from that damn café every single day?"

Iliyana tried to steady her voice. "Dad, please... the café was packed today. There was so much work to clean up—"

"I don't care about your little café!" David cut her off loudly. "Did you forget what I told you this morning? Adrin is coming over tonight to meet you! I told you to be home early. He is going to be your husband, Iliyana!"

A sharp pain hit Iliyana's chest. Tears burned behind her eyes. 

"Why are you doing this to me, Dad?" Iliyana begged, her voice cracking. "I don't love Adrin. I don't want to marry him! Please, don't force me."

David scoffed, looking at her without an ounce of warmth. 

"Love doesn't pay the bills," David said coldly. "I cannot afford to keep feeding you or keeping you under my roof. Just get out of my life! Once you marry Adrin, your future is secure, and more importantly, my debts are wiped clean. My life will finally be set."

"I am working every day to help you!" Iliyana stepped closer, her hands pleading. "I give you my entire paycheck. I will work extra shifts to help clear your debts, but please... don't force me to marry Adrin!"

David didn't even listen. He turned his back on her and walked toward the kitchen without another word.

Wiping a bitter tear from her cheek, Iliyana ran up the stairs and locked herself in her small bedroom. 

She walked over to her nightstand and picked up a wooden photo frame. In the picture, her mother was smiling warmly in the sunlight. 

Iliyana held the frame tight against her chest, sinking onto the edge of her bed as the tears poured freely down her face. 

"Mom... what am I supposed to do?" Iliyana whispered, staring at her mother's gentle eyes. "First, that dangerous man took your scarf. He came looking for me today. And now Dad wants to hand me over to Adrin like a piece of property. I am so tired, Mom. I feel so alone."

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from downstairs.

It sounded like heavy glass shattering violently against the floor, followed by a muffled shout of pain.

Iliyana jumped to her feet, her heart leaping into her throat. 

She cracked her bedroom door open and crept out into the hallway. Leaning over the wooden railing, she looked down into the living room below.

The air froze in her lungs.

Standing in the center of their living room were several large men dressed in black suits. 

And sitting calmly on the center armchair was John Alex.

David was on his knees on the carpet, shaking like a leaf. One of John's armed men was standing behind David, pressing the cold barrel of a black handgun directly against his forehead.

Panic overwhelmed Iliyana. She gasped, running straight back into her bedroom and slamming the door shut. 

Her back hit the wall. She slid to the floor, her hands over her mouth, trying not to make a sound. 

How did he find my house? Oh God, he is going to kill us.

A few seconds later, John's deep, commanding voice carried up the stairs. It was calm, loud, and chilled the entire house.

"Iliyana," John called out from below. "Come downstairs right now. Or I put a bullet through your father's head."

Iliyana sat frozen on the floor, paralyzed with fear. She couldn't force her legs to move.

"You have five seconds," John's voice warned coldly.

"One."

"Two."

"Three—"

BANG!

A loud gunshot tore through the silence of the house.

"No!" Iliyana screamed. 

She threw the door open and sprinted down the stairs, not caring about her own safety anymore. 

She rushed into the living room, tears streaming down her face. 

The bullet had struck the wooden floor just an inch away from David's knee. David was still alive, sobbing on the carpet with his face buried in his trembling hands. 

John was now standing right beside him, a smoking gun in his right hand.

"Dad!" Iliyana cried out, rushing forward and dropping to her knees beside her father. She grabbed his arm frantically. "Dad, are you okay? Are you hurt?!"

Before David could answer, an iron grip clamped around Iliyana's wrist.

With one powerful, effortless pull, John yanked Iliyana up from the floor. 

Iliyana gasped as she was pulled off balance. John pulled her straight toward the sofa, forcing her down right beside him. Before she could slide away, John boxed her in, placing his heavy arm along the back of the sofa, trapping her completely in his space. 

The scent of cold rain, leather, and dark smoke radiated off his chest.

Iliyana looked up at him in pure terror, her chest rising and falling fast. 

John looked at David shaking on the carpet, then his deep voice cut through the room. "She is marrying me."

David froze in complete shock, too terrified to speak.

Slowly, John turned his head back to Iliyana. He leaned in so close his breath brushed against her skin. 

"You are going to be a part of my dark life," John murmured, his dark eyes locked onto hers. "And starting today, neither of you is going anywhere until we are married. Okay, baby?"

A slow, dark smile touched the corner of his lips. 

He raised his hand, his fingers reaching out to touch her soft cheek. 

Before his skin could graze hers, Iliyana jerked her head to the side, turning her face away from his touch. 

She refused to let him touch her.

John’s hand hovered in the empty air. He didn't get angry. Instead, a slow, amused smirk spread across his face. He loved the fact that she was still trying to fight him.

Slowly, John lowered his hand. 

He stood up, adjusted the collar of his black coat, and walked straight out the front door into the night, his armed men following right behind him.

Iliyana barely remembered how she made it out of the café. 

Her legs were shaking the entire way home. The cold wind bit into her cheeks, but all she could see when she closed her eyes was John Alex standing on the sidewalk, with her mother's red scarf wound tightly around his knuckles. 

She pushed the front door of her house open, completely out of breath. 

Her father, David Lavish, was standing in the hallway. He looked up, his face tight with anger. 

"Where have you been all this time?" David demanded, crossing his arms. "Why are you coming home so late from that damn café every single day?"

Iliyana tried to steady her voice. "Dad, please... the café was packed today. There was so much work to clean up—"

"I don't care about your little café!" David cut her off loudly. "Did you forget what I told you this morning? Adrin is coming over tonight to meet you! I told you to be home early. He is going to be your husband, Iliyana!"

A sharp pain hit Iliyana's chest. Tears burned behind her eyes. 

"Why are you doing this to me, Dad?" Iliyana begged, her voice cracking. "I don't love Adrin. I don't want to marry him! Please, don't force me."

David scoffed, looking at her without an ounce of warmth. 

"Love doesn't pay the bills," David said coldly. "I cannot afford to keep feeding you or keeping you under my roof. Just get out of my life! Once you marry Adrin, your future is secure, and more importantly, my debts are wiped clean. My life will finally be set."

"I am working every day to help you!" Iliyana stepped closer, her hands pleading. "I give you my entire paycheck. I will work extra shifts to help clear your debts, but please... don't force me to marry Adrin!"

David didn't even listen. He turned his back on her and walked toward the kitchen without another word.

Wiping a bitter tear from her cheek, Iliyana ran up the stairs and locked herself in her small bedroom. 

She walked over to her nightstand and picked up a wooden photo frame. In the picture, her mother was smiling warmly in the sunlight. 

Iliyana held the frame tight against her chest, sinking onto the edge of her bed as the tears poured freely down her face. 

"Mom... what am I supposed to do?" Iliyana whispered, staring at her mother's gentle eyes. "First, that dangerous man took your scarf. He came looking for me today. And now Dad wants to hand me over to Adrin like a piece of property. I am so tired, Mom. I feel so alone."

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from downstairs.

It sounded like heavy glass shattering violently against the floor, followed by a muffled shout of pain.

Iliyana jumped to her feet, her heart leaping into her throat. 

She cracked her bedroom door open and crept out into the hallway. Leaning over the wooden railing, she looked down into the living room below.

The air froze in her lungs.

Standing in the center of their living room were several large men dressed in black suits. 

And sitting calmly on the center armchair was John Alex.

David was on his knees on the carpet, shaking like a leaf. One of John's armed men was standing behind David, pressing the cold barrel of a black handgun directly against his forehead.

Panic overwhelmed Iliyana. She gasped, running straight back into her bedroom and slamming the door shut. 

Her back hit the wall. She slid to the floor, her hands over her mouth, trying not to make a sound. 

How did he find my house? Oh God, he is going to kill us.

A few seconds later, John's deep, commanding voice carried up the stairs. It was calm, loud, and chilled the entire house.

"Iliyana," John called out from below. "Come downstairs right now. Or I put a bullet through your father's head."

Iliyana sat frozen on the floor, paralyzed with fear. She couldn't force her legs to move.

"You have five seconds," John's voice warned coldly.

"One."

"Two."

"Three—"

BANG!

A loud gunshot tore through the silence of the house.

"No!" Iliyana screamed. 

She threw the door open and sprinted down the stairs, not caring about her own safety anymore. 

She rushed into the living room, tears streaming down her face. 

The bullet had struck the wooden floor just an inch away from David's knee. David was still alive, sobbing on the carpet with his face buried in his trembling hands. 

John was now standing right beside him, a smoking gun in his right hand.

"Dad!" Iliyana cried out, rushing forward and dropping to her knees beside her father. She grabbed his arm frantically. "Dad, are you okay? Are you hurt?!"

Before David could answer, an iron grip clamped around Iliyana's wrist.

With one powerful, effortless pull, John yanked Iliyana up from the floor. 

Iliyana gasped as she was pulled off balance. John pulled her straight toward the sofa, forcing her down right beside him. Before she could slide away, John boxed her in, placing his heavy arm along the back of the sofa, trapping her completely in his space. 

The scent of cold rain, leather, and dark smoke radiated off his chest.

Iliyana looked up at him in pure terror, her chest rising and falling fast. 

John looked at David shaking on the carpet, then his deep voice cut through the room. "She is marrying me."

David froze in complete shock, too terrified to speak.

Slowly, John turned his head back to Iliyana. He leaned in so close his breath brushed against her skin. 

"You are going to be a part of my dark life," John murmured, his dark eyes locked onto hers. "And starting today, neither of you is going anywhere until we are married. Okay, baby?"

A slow, dark smile touched the corner of his lips. 

He raised his hand, his fingers reaching out to touch her soft cheek. 

Before his skin could graze hers, Iliyana jerked her head to the side, turning her face away from his touch. 

She refused to let him touch her.

John’s hand hovered in the empty air. He didn't get angry. Instead, a slow, amused smirk spread across his face. He loved the fact that she was still trying to fight him.

Slowly, John lowered his hand. 

He stood up, adjusted the collar of his black coat, and walked straight out the front door into the night, his armed men following right behind him.