All Chapters of VOWS OF THE VEILED kING: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Chapter 1The Gilded Ruins​Fiorenza Elettra De Santis POV​​The smell of mahogany and beeswax used to mean home, Now everything feels wrong and terrible.​I stood upstairs, holding the wooden railing of the second floor. I held the wooden rail so tightly that my fingers turned white. Below me, the ground floor of the De Santis Atelier, a space that had breathed life into Italian high fashion for over half a century was being stripped bare by men who didn't even have the decency to wipe their mud caked shoes on the welcome mat.​"Miss De Santis, the collection for the upcoming autumn runway has been taken to cover a huge debt.“a voice squeaked from behind me”​I didn't turn around immediately, I couldn't. I watched as two officers roughly dragged away a mannequin wearing a hand beaded red velvet gown, the last piece my father had ever touched with his own hands before he disappeared. I touched the small half moon shaped scar near my left collarbone. a nervous habit i always do whe

Chapter 3 The Ambush Meeting Fiorenza Elettra De Santis POV​The rain had turned the streets of Milan into black glass by the time the car pulled up outside Il Salotto, a private club hidden behind an unmarked limestone façade near the Galleria. There were no signboards, no paparazzi, only a heavy iron gate and a single guard who checked my name against a handwritten velvet guest list.​I got out of the car, pulling my wool coat tighter around my shoulders. My heart was beating closely, and I could feel it in my chest . I had refused the black sedan Valeriano had sent to my atelier a tiny act of resistance perhaps, but one I needed to keep my knees from buckling. Instead, I had driven myself, bringing only the leather folder containing the partially burned ledger and the notes Gianna had managed to pull from our server archives.​I was meeting a man named Signor Rossi, he is the chief rebuilding officer appointed by the central bank. Or at least, that was the name on the

Chapter 5 Whispers in the Atelier​ Fiorenza Elettra De Santis POV​The dawn light filtering through the high arched windows of the De Santis Atelier didn't feel like a new day,it made the place feel like something horrible had just happened.​I stood in the center of the main showroom floor, the silence thick and heavy around me. The men in polyester suits were gone.The bailiffs had disappeared into the damp Milan morning, leaving the atelier looking almost abandoned empty brass racks, stripped mannequins, and carpet track marks like shallow graves.​By six o'clock this morning, the emergency seal at Moretti Tower had ended as suddenly as it began a "system glitch," Valeriano’s chief security detail had called it with a face like carved ice, But I knew better. It had been a warning. A subtle reminder of the dark, invisible forces circling the man whose ring I was about to wear.​The front glass doors opened with a soft, quick click, and Gianna slipped inside.​She looked exhau

Chapter 7The Iron Gates of BellagioFlorezo The heavy iron gates of Bellagio did not open, they groaned, a deep,powerful screech of ancient metal parting like teeth to swallow us whole​I sat in the back of the bullet proof Bentley, my fingers tracing the cold, smooth silk of my wedding gown, a dress that felt less like a garment and more like a veil.Outside, Lake Como extended out under a bruised, twilight sky, its dark waters uneasy against the sheer granite cliffs like a restless beast. There was no romantic welcome committee, no shimmering lanterns of Italian hospitality. Only the damp chill of the Alps, the crushing weight of centuries old stone, and the silent, imposing presence of the man sitting beside me.​Valeriano didn't look at me.His looks were cut with ruthless precision,as cold and formidable as the stone walls surrounding the estate​"We are here," he said, his voice a low rasping voice that vibrated right through the wooden planks. It wasn't an invitation to st

Chapter 9The Perimeter BreachValeriano POV​The house was completely dead at two in the morning, the kind of silence where you can hear the old wooden floors breathe and the grandfather clock ticking slowly in the hallway. Some nights, I liked it quiet. It meant my empire was sleeping, and my men were watching the gates. But tonight, the house felt too quiet. A faint crawling sensation moved across my skin. It started at the back of my neck that old, sharp feeling in my gut that told me something was moving in the dark that shouldn't be there.​I sat alone down in the lower archives, right behind the heavy woody desk.The room was hidden deep in the basement, past the wine cellar, where nobody ever went unless they were looking for old stuff or papers best left buried. The only light came from one small green desk lamp, cutting a sharp circle across the wood. In my hands, I held the thick red leather ledger containing the names of every bribed judge and government official on our