SHADOW OF VOW'S

Alessia Moretti Los Angeles 5pm The night air was thick with the scent of Los Angeles gasoline, asphalt, and a hint of the ocean breeze that never quite reached our part of the city. My heels clicked against the cracked pavement as I made my way up the worn-out steps of our townhouse, exhaustion pressing heavily against my limbs. The weight of the day a full schedule of classes, an endless group project, and a midterm looming over my head made the sight of our familiar blue door almost comforting. Almost. A strange sense of unease curled in my gut as I reached for the handle. Something felt off. The porch light flickered ominously, and the house was eerily silent. Usually, my brother, Luca, would be sprawled on the couch, yelling at some basketball game on TV or complaining about his latest poker hand gone wrong. Tonight, there was nothing. A chill ran down my spine. I pushed open the door, and the scent hit me first coppery, thick, unmistakable. Blood. "Luca?" My voice wavered

Nikolai Volkov I watched her, amused.Alessia Moretti had stormed into my penthouse like a woman marching to war, her chin high, her posture stiff with defiance. She reeked of desperation, though she was trying—badly—to mask it behind confidence.And now, she stood in front of me, offering terms.A marriage with a deadline.One year.I rolled the whiskey glass between my fingers, studying her. She doesn’t understand the game she’s playing.“You think you can negotiate with me?” I asked, watching her closely.Her brown eyes, warm but filled with fire, didn’t waver. “I know I can.”Interesting.Alessia had always been a contradiction. She despised me, but she was also the only one who had ever dared to challenge me. Even as a child, she’d looked at me with those same defiant eyes, full of hatred, full of fire.And now, here she was, trying to outmaneuver me in my own game.I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my gaze locked onto hers. “And what makes you think I’d agree to

Nikolai Volkov Power wasn’t given. It was taken. Earned through blood, fear, and ruthless decisions.I had learned that lesson early in life, watching my father build an empire from nothing but brutality and intelligence. He had no patience for weakness. No tolerance for mistakes. And he made sure I understood that if I wanted to survive—if I wanted to rule—I had to be worse than my enemies.Now, as I stood in my office, overlooking the city I controlled from the shadows, I knew I had succeeded.The skyline of Los Angeles stretched before me, an ocean of lights and opportunities. A kingdom built on financial schemes, underground dealings, and the silent threats that kept my competitors in line.This city didn’t belong to the politicians or the businessmen who thought they ran it. It belonged to me.And yet, for the first time in years, my mind wasn’t consumed by business.It was consumed by her.Alessia Moretti.The woman I had wanted for as long as I could remember. The woman who no

Alessia Moretti The iron gates creaked open with slow, mechanical menace, revealing the full magnitude of the Volkov estate.It wasn’t just a house—it was a fortress. A looming mansion of obsidian stone and gilded windows, surrounded by tall hedges, surveillance cameras, and guards dressed like corporate assassins. Every inch of it screamed power, danger, and wealth—the perfect home for a man like Nikolai Volkov.The car rolled up to the entrance, and the driver stepped out before I could even reach for the handle. He opened the door for me without a word, and I stepped out, heels clicking against the pristine marble steps.A butler was already waiting by the door—gray-haired, sharp-eyed, and impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit.“Miss Moretti,” he said with a respectful nod. “Welcome.”I swallowed hard. *Miss Moretti… not for long.* That name would soon be replaced with something else—something I hadn’t chosen.“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.The butler moti

Alessia MorettiFor the first time in days, I could breathe.I stepped out of Nikolai’s penthouse that morning with an urgency I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. The cold morning air of Los Angeles kissed my skin, a far cry from the suffocating silence and tension inside those marble walls.University.It was strange to even think the word after everything that had happened. But here I was, clutching my psychology textbooks like nothing had changed—except everything had.The car Nikolai had assigned to me waited just outside. Black, tinted, sleek. A driver in a sharp suit nodded as I slid into the back seat.“You don’t have to do this,” I’d told Nikolai last night when he insisted I’d have a driver. “I’m not a prisoner.”“No,” he’d said, his eyes unreadable. “But you’re mine now. And I protect what’s mine.”I’d rolled my eyes and turned away, but a part of me had shivered at the quiet possessiveness in his voice.The university came into view twenty minutes later—tall columns, pal