LOGINIn the ruthless underworld of Los Angeles, an ancient feud between the Moretti and Volkov mafia families has simmered for decades. After a fragile truce is established, Alessia Moretti, a headstrong university student, believes she can escape the criminal life that has defined her family. But when her reckless brother, Lucas, accumulates a five-million-dollar debt with the infamous Nikolai Volkov, everything changes. To settle the debt, Nikolai demands Alessia’s hand in marriage. Forced into a union with the enemy, Alessia finds herself trapped in a dangerous game of power, deception, and forbidden desire. Nikolai has harbored an obsession for her since childhood, and now that she is his, he refuses to let her go. As secrets unravel and long-buried betrayals come to light, Alessia must decide where her loyalties lie. Will she fight for the family that raised her, or will she surrender to the man who has vowed to claim her as his own?
View MoreAlessia Volkov Three months had passed since I returned to the manoir.Three months since I stood at the threshold of the room that had once felt like a mausoleum and breathed life back into it.Three months of mending what was broken between Nikolai and me thread by thread, breath by breath. It hadn’t been easy. There were silences too long, wounds too deep, shadows we tried to ignore. But somehow, against all odds, we held on. And in those months, something beautiful had taken root. Not just trust, but comfort. Laughter. Quiet moments that needed no explanation. The kind of peace neither of us thought we’d ever earn.The manoir no longer felt haunted.It felt like home.Nikolai had finished what he’d promised erasing every remaining trace of Viktor’s influence from his empire. Ruthlessly. Surgically. Piece by piece, he tore down the scaffolding of corruption that had once held his name in place. He was focused, precise, unrelenting in his pursuit of a cleaner legacy. And I watched
Nikolai Volkov The days no longer dragged. They tore through me like bullets, relentless and precise, punching holes through whatever semblance of control I still had. There were no gentle mornings. No slow stretches of time to collect myself. Only the blur of responsibilities, the noise of an empire that didn’t care if its king was breaking beneath the weight of an empty bed. If I slowed down, I’d feel it again. The void. The screaming silence of a house that used to echo with her laugh, her footsteps, her defiance. The way she used to slam doors and then kiss me like it was her favorite form of punctuation. The warmth of her body tucked into mine at night. The way she whispered my name in the dark, as if she wasn’t quite ready to believe she’d found someone to say it to. Alessia. My wife. My fury. My fire. My undoing. She still hadn’t called. No texts. No messages. No divorce papers. But no return either. And somehow, the not knowing was worse than anything else. Wo
Alessia Volkov One month had passed.Thirty long, excruciating days since I walked out of the manoir. Since I left behind a marriage built on passion, silence, and too many half-truths. A month since I looked into Nikolai’s eyes and told him I needed time. Space. Distance.A month without him.Without his presence looming in a room like a shadow. Without the feel of his hands on my skin, his voice brushing the edges of my anger and softening it. Without the chaos that only he could ignite in my veins and calm with a look.I hadn’t asked for a divorce. Not yet.I hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t even looked at the envelope of letters he’d sent. Zayn had delivered them quietly, discreetly, with a look that said more than words ever could. He understood something had fractured.I kept the notes, though.Untouched, buried in the top drawer of my nightstand like they were weapons I wasn’t ready to wield. I wasn’t strong enough to read them yet. Because I knew Nikolai. He wouldn’t writ
Nikolai Volkov The days had blurred into each other like ink spreading across wet parchment messy, uncontrollable, permanent.Sunlight bled in through the tall windows every morning like a cruel joke, casting warm gold over cold marble floors she no longer walked on. The manoir, once a fortress of discipline and steel control, now felt too loud with emptiness. Every wall echoed with silence, a kind that rang louder than any scream. I used to find comfort in the solitude, in the stillness. Now, it mocked me.Every room screamed her name.Every hallway echoed with memories.Her laughter.Her footsteps.Her scent, still clinging to the air like a ghost refusing to leave.Since Alessia left, I hadn’t been the same. I wasn’t sure I ever would be.I haunted the corridors like a man condemned, dragging my feet like I could still feel the weight of her absence trying to suffocate me. I ate only when the gnawing in my stomach outmatched the ache in my chest. I slept only when my body collapse
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