The Devil's Promise

"Keep a straight face and smile, Victoria!" Mother glared at me as I stepped out of the car.

We had been on the road for the past hour before arriving at St. Louis Catholic Church, the largest church in Russia. There was something powerful about it.

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, walking inside while some maids helped with my gown. Since it was a small family wedding, I didn’t expect many people—just the Washingtons and the Volkovs.

As soon as the big doors opened, my heart started racing like it would jump out of my chest. I was trembling with fear, each step feeling heavy and forced.

To my right, I noticed men in black suits. They looked dangerous, and something told me I shouldn’t cross them.

The church's grand interior was dimly lit, with soft light shining through the stained glass, casting shadows on the pews. I could feel my pulse in my throat, and my breathing became uneven as I kept moving forward.

The Washingtons and Volkovs sat on either side of the aisle, their faces unreadable. There was tension in the air, like everyone was waiting for something bad to happen. I kept my eyes ahead, avoiding their stares, but I could feel them watching me, judging me.

The dress felt heavy, dragging with every step, and the silence in the church felt suffocating, like it was holding its breath.

At the altar, I saw him—the man I was about to marry. His back was to me, his broad shoulders straight in a perfectly tailored suit. I wondered if he felt as trapped as I did, or if this was just another business deal for him. This wasn’t a wedding of love—it was about power.

My hands shook under the veil, and I gripped the bouquet tighter, hoping no one would notice.

The priest beside him gave me a serious look, like he could see the fear I was hiding. Taking a deep breath, I stood beside my soon-to-be husband, preparing for whatever was coming next.

The man, my soon-to-be husband, turned slightly and looked at me for the first time. His face was blank, cold, but there was something darker in his eyes that sent a chill down my spine. Was he as scared as I was? Or was this all part of their plan?

The priest cleared his throat, snapping me back to reality."

"On this special day, the Washington and Volkov families have come together to witness the union of two people—Victoria, our beloved daughter, and Vincenzo," the priest said, his voice echoing through the church.

I exhaled deeply, trying to calm my racing heart. My hands trembled beneath the veil, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all a nightmare. I glanced at Vincenzo, but his expression was cold and unreadable, as if none of this mattered to him.

The priest continued speaking, but his words felt distant. All I could focus on was the sinking weight in my chest, the knowledge that this wasn’t a marriage of love—it was a transaction. Power was the only thing binding us together, and I was just a pawn in their game.

“Victoria, do you take Vincenzo to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asked.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak. “I do,” I whispered, barely audible.

The priest then turned to Vincenzo. Without hesitation, he responded, “I do,” his voice flat and emotionless.

The priest smiled and declared us husband and wife, and though the words were meant to mark a new beginning, all I felt was a deep, sinking dread.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest announced.

Vincenzo stepped closer, lifting my veil. His icy eyes bore into mine, and just before he leaned in, he spoke in a low, chilling voice, so only I could hear.

"I don't care how much my family paid you to ruin my life, but I'll make sure you regret ever setting foot here."

His words sent a cold shiver down my spine, freezing me in place. Then, without waiting for a reaction, he pressed a quick, emotionless kiss to my lips. It was nothing more than a formality, as cold as the look in his eyes.

I wondered why he hates me already, I have done nothing wrong to deserve this. I mean I was literally forced into this so-called marriage.

The polite applause echoed in the church, but I couldn’t hear it. My world had turned to ice. As we turned to face the crowd, I forced a smile, but all I could think about was Vincenzo's threat.

And I knew he meant every word.

"Oh, my beautiful daughter, I'm so happy for you!" Mother exclaimed, her eyes brimming with joy. I bit my tongue, holding back the sarcastic words I desperately wanted to say.

“Vincenzo, isn’t it wonderful? You’d better take good care of my daughter, okay?” She turned to him with a hopeful smile, and he nodded curtly, his face unreadable.

“Beautiful Damsel!” A graceful, fair-skinned woman took my hands gently as I stepped down from the altar. She looked like she was in her late fifties, but her elegance and beauty were undeniable.

“I’m Mrs. Gabriel, Vincenzo’s mother and now your mother-in-law. You can call me Gabby.” She smiled warmly, and I forced a smile in return, hoping to hide the tension building inside me.

Just then, a man with the same face as Vincenzo appeared, grinning from ear to ear. “Yoo!! I can’t believe my twin brother is married! Man, you’re the luckiest guy alive—she’s gorgeous! Hi, I’m Lorenzo, his twin, and his better half!” he said with a wink.

I stared at him in shock. They were nearly identical, down to the smallest detail. I blinked, trying to process the uncanny resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Victoria,” I managed to say, my voice slightly shaky. They all smiled, and then two men and a stunningly beautiful woman approached, a baby nestled in her arms.

“Don Nikolai!” Lorenzo said, giving a respectful bow. My mother and Gabby had already stepped outside to discuss something.

“Hello,” I muttered, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Hello,” the man said in a smooth, commanding voice. “I’m Nikolai Volvok, the first son of the family, and this is my lovely wife, Cassandra.”

I recognized her immediately—Cassandra Volvok, the woman who had trended online for an entire week. Her tragic story was well-known. Abused by her brothers and father, she had survived horrors, yet here she stood, looking composed and regal. At that moment, I realized we weren’t so different. She, too, had suffered behind closed doors.

“And this is Mr. Roberto, our father,” Nikolai added as the older man approached me with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Welcome to the Volvok family,” Roberto said, taking my hands in his firm grasp. “I have a feeling you’re going to be my favorite!” He chuckled, and the others joined in.

We started talking a little, exchanging names and getting to know each other briefly before everyone began leaving for their cars. I stood there, watching as my mother and father left.

In the blink of an eye, it was just me, two of my maids, and the close family members of the Volvoks.

The driver opened the door, and Vincenzo stepped into the car first. My maids helped me inside, struggling with the heavy gown as I settled in.

“Your bags are already at the Volvok house. Safe journey, sweetie. And remember to always smile,” Miss Beatrice said, and tears filled my eyes. I hadn’t seen her at the wedding and didn’t even notice she had come. Now, seeing her here made me feel a little better.

“Thank you so much, ma'am. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I said, and with that, the car pulled away, leaving the church behind.

I didn’t move or say anything. I wanted to look at the man I had just married, but I felt frozen in place. Something about him made me feel powerless. His scent filled the car—rich, expensive, and luxurious. I knew they were wealthy, but I didn’t realize just how wealthy they truly were until now.

Vincenzo didn’t say a single word to me, nor did he even glance in my direction. It was like I didn’t exist. He probably hates me.

The drive felt endless, probably around two hours, and I swear I was getting sleepy, especially since I hadn’t slept in two days. I checked my phone, but there were no missed calls or messages.

After about two and a half hours, we finally arrived at a massive, grand estate. It was like something out of a dream—or maybe a nightmare—a gigantic house that looked like an old-money castle. The property was so large, it seemed like it would take an hour just to walk from the house to the front gate.

As the gates opened, my heart started racing again.

The car continued driving past several other buildings, security checkpoints, and armed guards. The place felt like a fortress, ready for a battle at any moment. Finally, we reached the main house—a breathtaking, magnificent mansion. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, completely awestruck by its sheer size and beauty.

As I arrived, I saw a line of maids waiting for me, each standing at attention. One of them opened the door for me, offering a steady hand to help me out.

I stepped out, the weight of my gown feeling like chains around my legs. Vincenzo, on the other hand, remained silent. He didn’t offer a glance in my direction, his expression cold as he walked off to greet the staff. I watched him go, feeling the heavy isolation sink deeper into my bones.

“Welcome to the Volvok family, Mrs. Victoria! Right this way, please!” one of the maids said with a bright smile, motioning for me to follow her into the house. Her cheerfulness felt out of place—almost mocking—like she was welcoming me into a cage with silk walls.

I forced my legs to move, trailing behind her as I passed through the grand doors. The interior was stunning—an opulent display of wealth—but it felt empty, lifeless, like a gilded prison. Every step I took echoed in the vast halls, but the further I walked, the heavier my heart became.

I stole a glance at Vincenzo, who was already surrounded by the staff, speaking in low tones that I couldn’t hear. He looked like he belonged here—confident, in control. I, on the other hand, felt like a stranger in my own skin. My heart pounded in my chest, and for a brief moment, I wondered if this house would be my grave. Would I survive this marriage? Or would I disappear behind these walls, like so many other women before me?

The maid led me up a sweeping staircase, her voice breaking through my thoughts.

“You’ll have a room prepared for you. Everything you need is ready, Mrs. Victoria.”

I nodded, though the words felt hollow. A room? I didn't need a room—I needed a way out.

As we reached the top of the stairs, I hesitated, glancing back at the massive doors we had just entered through. Freedom was somewhere out there, beyond the gates, beyond the walls. But it felt so far away now, as if the very act of crossing that threshold had sealed my fate.

Vincenzo had made it clear—this wasn’t a marriage. It was a war, and I was already losing.

And as I followed the maid into the lavishly furnished room, I knew one thing for certain: I would have to find a way to survive in this world of power, wealth, and danger. I wasn’t going to let them crush me.

Not yet.