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ILYA MORZOV IS AN INTERESTING MAN.
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2025-07-02 14:40:10CAELEN VALENTINE’S POV
“Does Ilya know about it?” I asked, concern washing over me as Aria sobbed into her hands like her world had just shattered.
She shook her head furiously. “No… and he doesn’t need to. We’ve already broken up. This child—this baby—is mine alone.”
Her tears intensified, and before I could react, she leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my torso. I froze for a second, but the tremble in her body pulled at something inside me.
This girl…
Running from a brother who’d burn the world down if he did.
Tragic.
And just as the thought settled in, the door slammed open like a scene from a bad gangster flick.
Speak of the devil… and the Russian arrives.
Cold. Imposing. Fuming.
He stood there like a storm wrapped in silence, his blue eyes narrowed into icy slits, glaring directly at me.
His fists were clenched, jaw locked, chest heaving ever so slightly beneath that tailored black shirt.
Which only encouraged the devil in me.
I gently rubbed Aria’s back as she continued to cry into my chest, blissfully unaware of the murderous Russian statue in the doorway.
Ilya coughed.
She didn’t flinch.
In fact, she snuggled closer.
The look on his face? Devastating.
“Young mistress,” he spoke through clenched teeth, “Sir requests your presence.”
She didn’t move. Not even an inch.
“She’ll come in a while,” I said for her, sending him a slow smile.
Looks like I’m playing cupid now.
“I guess I’ll go now,” Aria whispered, gently pulling away from my embrace.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “Your secret is safe with me. In return… just make sure your brother stays at least five kilometers away from me.”
She laughed softly—somewhat sad, somewhat grateful—and walked out, leaving me in the thick silence of my thoughts.
Would my family even look for me?
Doubtful.
Since the day I was born, I’ve been nothing more than a shameful shadow. My mother died giving birth to me, and from that day onward, I became a stain on my father’s perfect life.
An inconvenience dressed up in silk.
At school, I was mocked for being ‘the extra son’.
College was my rebirth. I changed my look, my name, even lied about my background.
Eleven girlfriends.
They either ran when they learned the truth or dumped me because I wasn’t “exciting enough.”
When Aria told me she was pregnant with my child…
But turns out, even that wasn’t mine to keep.
The baby’s not mine.
Every inch of my body still aches from Lucian’s beating.
Every time I breathe, my ribs remind me how much I don’t miss mafia hospitality.
MIDNIGHT.
I wandered the mansion like a ghost.
It was palatial—elegant, pristine, cold.
Like everything here was afraid to be touched.
“Ahhh…”
Another scream echoed from somewhere deeper inside.
This place was huge, and knowing this family, someone was either being tortured, interrogated, or sacrificed for looking at Lucian the wrong way.
I followed the sound. My curiosity piqued.
But the closer I got…
And more like… something else?
I stopped outside a half-open door. The screams weren’t cries for help.
And then I heard a voice. Guttural. Commanding. Familiar.
Lucian?
No.
No fucking way.
I kicked the door open—
Worst decision of my life.
There he was.
Mafia heir. Underworld king. My walking migraine.
Fucking a man over his desk.
Hands gripping hair.
Moaning into the night like a goddamn demon in heat.
I stood there. Frozen.
He didn’t even stop.
Smirked.
Like he wanted me to see.
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MY BROTHER-IN-LAW 120. THE END
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CONRAD WILLIAM'S POV"Stop it."I hiss the words under my breath, swatting blindly behind me, but the devil behind me just laughs."Stop what?" Caisen says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "I'm just making sure you don't burn your precious eggs.""You're not even looking at the eggs," I grit out, trying to push his hand away from where it's unapologetically slipped past the waistband of my pajama pants. "Your fingers are about to end up in the frying pan if you don't stop."He chuckles — that low, rumbling kind of laugh that still makes my skin tingle even now — and presses his lips to the back of my neck."You say that like it's a threat," he murmurs. "I'd burn for you, you know.""Don't get poetic while groping me, Asshole" I mutter, cheeks already warm. "It's too early in the morning for this.""It's almost noon.""Still early when I haven't had coffee and you haven't let me cook for the past ten minutes."He doesn't move.Of course he doesn't.Instead, his hand drifts lazily
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