Novels by Flowervil

Damon Westwood The fresh air caressed my face, the sound of the waves was soothing. The sky was starry and the heavenly atmosphere of our hotel made the moment even more magical. The Maldives was an obvious choice for Sasha. She wanted to spend our honeymoon in the sun and tanning. So I followed him. I still couldn't believe it. Pinch me I'm dreaming. When Jonathan called me a few days after showing up at my house completely drunk, he said he had to talk to me and that it was a matter of life and death. At first I was skeptical, what he wanted to talk about was so important. He arranged to meet me at a restaurant not far from his office. He looked anxious. He only wanted Sasha to do something that she will surely regret in the near future. -I know you both love each other. He said. Then he offered me something. That I arrange to divorce before marriage. That way I will have the opportunity to propose to Sasha. I was confused and didn't understand why he would

Sasha J. Morales It's really weird that Jonathan wants to talk to me at this exact moment. I don't need an extra dose of stress. I already want to run away and leave everything behind. So I hope it's nothing serious. What’s so important to say? -It can't wait until after the ceremony? -He insists on seeing you now -Uh…Okay. You can give us a moment. -Yes my darling, no worries. My friends accompanied by my mother leave the room. The makeup artists and hair stylists also leave the room and I find him alone for a few minutes before Jonathan enters the room. He freezes the minute he sees me and I can feel admiration in his eyes. -Wow. You are really beautiful. -THANKS. You are just as beautiful. I pick at my nails not knowing where to put myself. This situation is oddly awkward. And normally she shouldn't be since it's my future husband standing in front of me. -I was really lucky to have you in my life. Eu? I'm seriously starting to panic so he takes my hands in his and le

Sasha J. Morales -Don't you think you should slow down on the Margarita, I don't want you to be half tipsy while the ceremony hasn't started yet. -Believe me, it’s the best solution for me to get through this day -You're exaggerating June. I say with a smile It was Saturday morning The Four Seasons was in turmoil Final preparations were underway It was the wedding day. I was completely exhausted even though it was just 11am My mother, June, Sam and Ethan were with me. They were getting their makeup done while Ethan put on his groomsman suit. June was on her third drink and she might end up on the floor if she continued drinking. -I can't believe my baby is getting married. -Me neither. I tell my mother Jonathan wanted us to get married out of town but I insisted we do it here. -I'm really stressed, gee, wouldn't someone have a joint please? -Sasha??? -What mom? ?? Everyone has their own solutions -I have an idea! June screams. How about we run away and run away to Mex

Damon Westwood -Where are we going darling? -It is a surprise. I took my mother in the evening for a little walk. I wanted to get some fresh air before taking him somewhere. We had been at the park for 30 minutes now and we were walking arm in arm. The evening runners were finishing their races, some flower sellers were still present and the lovers were holding hands to enjoy the last rays of the sun. It was really pleasant. -Tell me my son…so there really is more hope with Sasha? I huff before leading her to one of the free benches and making us sit down. -She's getting married, mom. -Damon it’s not- I cut it off immediately. Trying to convince me or give me false hope is completely useless. -Mom, stop, that’s enough. I know that you really like Sasha and that you also want me to be happy, but I think it's time to move on. All I wish for her is that she is happy and if that happiness is near Jonathan then so be it. It breaks my heart to say it out loud but it also makes

Sasha J. Morales I had locked myself in the guest room with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, lying on the floor. It was either half full or half empty. In short, I don't know, my mind is already clouded by alcohol. John hadn't come home yet even though it was well into the night and that suited me, I had no desire to confront him this evening. However, my parents were a completely different story. My mother had been trying to get her out of this damn room for an hour now but I needed to isolate myself a little. I thought I had finally put the past behind me but it caught up with me. Damn, no matter how hard I looked I don't know how they got their hands on this story. I was always careful not to be recognized and Sam always made sure our personal information didn't leak. So how is this possible? I pick up my phone before turning it on. It kept vibrating so I had to turn it off to get some peace. And it’s no surprise that I see missed calls from Ethan, Sam, June but also Jonathan

Damon Westwood -It’s my fault for going to see him. You're obsessed with a divorce that won't happen. Someone had to calm you down We were in our house, I had come home because I had gone to see friends not far away. And I was lazy to drive to my apartment. And I decided to talk to the crazy woman who will soon be my ex-wife. -You really think that involving my father will change anything in our situation. -Someone has to slap you on the wrist, you're behaving like a capricious kid. I massage my eyebrows, I'm on the verge of having a horrible migraine. I start to laugh quietly. -Ella what the hell are you looking for? We are going to divorce and nothing can stop me from doing it, not even my father. -Are you aware that I still have all my physical faculties and that if I refuse to sign you cannot force me to do so? You at least know that, right? Yes I know about it but she won't have a choice. She used me as a pawn to get revenge on Sasha and in our divorce she will be mine.

Alessia volkovMy legs burned with every step I took, lungs heaving and heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. The cold night air stung my skin, and the uneven gravel beneath my feet bit into my soles, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I had no plan, no direction—just one thought echoing through me like a desperate prayer:Run.I had made it out. I had struck him. I had escaped. But freedom had never felt so fleeting.Behind me, I could hear him.Marcello.Screaming. Cursing. Unhinged.His rage echoed off the metal walls of the warehouse like a beast unleashed from the depths of hell.My body ached, still sore and stiff from being bound. I stumbled through the overgrowth that surrounded the building, each branch clawing at my skin like nature itself was trying to pull me back into the nightmare I was trying to escape.Just a little farther, I told myself. Just a little more—A sharp yank on my arm pulled me backward.He had caught me.A scream burst from my lips, but it was cut shor

Alessia Volkov The first thing I felt was cold.It seeped into my bones, clinging to my skin like a wet second layer. The air was damp, thick with mildew and rot. My head throbbed, every heartbeat pounding like a drum behind my temples. I groaned, trying to move, but my arms felt like lead.I was lying on concrete. Hard. Wet. My cheek pressed against it, and I could feel tiny stones biting into my skin. My wrists ached. Something dug into them—plastic? Zip ties. Panic fluttered in my chest, not full-blown yet, but creeping in around the edges.Where am I?Why can’t I move?And then it hit me—everything. The long day with Stassie. The drive home. The headlights in my mirror. The panic. The crash.And then—nothing.Until now.My eyes fluttered open, but I saw almost nothing. Darkness. Deep, suffocating darkness. The only light was a faint glimmer far off, like a single dying candle in the shadows. My entire body screamed for answers.A sound.Footsteps.Steady, calm, unhurried.My brea

Nikolai Volkov She was late.And Alessia Volkov was never late.I stood in the middle of the penthouse, phone glued to my ear, heart hammering in a way I hadn’t felt since my father taught me what it meant to bleed for power. The Los Angeles skyline blinked mockingly through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me, a cruel reminder that in this city of gods and monsters, people vanished every day.But Alessia wasn’t just anyone.She was my wife.She was my responsibility.And she wasn’t answering her goddamn phone.“Come on, pick up,” I muttered, pacing the length of the living room like a lion in a cage. Her call went to voicemail again. I ended it with a growl and immediately dialed Stassie.She picked up on the second ring. “Nikolai?”“Where is she?” My voice was sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. Fear was a poison in my veins, and I was already overdosing.“What? I—wait, Alessia?” Her voice cracked. I could hear music in the background. People. Laughter. It sounded like s

Alessia Volkov The day had been a rare kind of perfect. The kind that felt borrowed from another life. The kind of day I used to have before the name Volkov was stitched onto mine.Stassie had dragged me out of the penthouse at an ungodly hour, practically vibrating with excitement about our plans. “One last day of freedom before you’re officially a college graduate,” she’d said, tossing me a coffee and pulling me into the passenger seat of her car. It was the kind of energy only she had—the ability to cut through the storm clouds in my life and remind me of who I used to be.We started the morning with breakfast at The Ivy, where she made me laugh so hard I nearly spit out my mimosa. She recounted stories about her latest situationship, complete with dramatics and impressions, and I forgot for a moment that there was a shadow over my life. She kept saying I needed to “bask in my pre-graduation glow,” as if a ceremony and a gown could erase the scars beneath my designer clothes.Afte

Alessia Volkov Marriage isn’t supposed to feel like this.It’s not supposed to feel like walking barefoot through a minefield, like waiting for the next invisible strike, like drowning in silk sheets that feel more like spider webs. Every step I take, every glance I cast over my shoulder, reminds me that I’m no longer just Alessia Moretti. I’m Mrs. Volkov now.And being a Volkov comes with a target I never asked for.I sit in the sunroom of Nikolai’s penthouse, the walls made of glass, letting the morning light pour in like liquid gold. But the brightness does nothing to warm me. My fingers twitch restlessly on my lap, my nerves on fire ever since the wedding.There’s a car parked outside that doesn’t belong to our usual security rotation. A man I didn’t recognize lingered too long in the café across the street yesterday. Zayn says it's probably nothing. Nikolai says it's handled. I say they’re both liars.And I hate how right I might be.I sip my tea, now cold. I’ve been holding the

Dante MorettPower isn’t something you inherit. It’s something you seize. Something you bleed for. People like to romanticize legacy, talk about bloodlines and destiny, but all of that is noise. Pretty distractions. I’ve built my empire in silence, in calculated moves, in sacrifices most men wouldn’t stomach.Including my daughter.Yes, I gave Alessia to Nikolai Volkov. A contract wrapped in lace and signed in blood. Not because I wanted to. Because I had to. Family always comes first. Even when it destroys you.I sit behind the desk in my study, the city’s lights flickering like dying stars beyond the window. The glass in my hand is half-empty, like everything else in my life. Half full of victories. Half full of regret.Alessia thinks I betrayed her. Maybe I did. Maybe the moment I agreed to the terms with Volkov, I sold off the last piece of my soul that could still call itself a father. But that girl—she doesn’t see the battlefield. She only sees the wounds.And Luca… my son. My b