The room was thick with tension, every breath feeling like it was held too long. Sofie stood in the center, trying to hold her ground, but the expression on Alexander’s face—implacable, unreadable—betrayed nothing. His silence was suffocating.While Alexander remained ominously still, his presence looming like a storm cloud over the room, it was Adam who took charge. Adam, with his sharp mind and gaze full of quiet judgment, stepped forward. His movements were deliberate, measured. Approaching Brayden, he crouched to meet the boy’s eye level, his voice calm but firm. “Now, Brayden,” he said, “tell me again what happened. No lies.”Brayden, utterly unaffected by the tension swirling around him, blinked up at his uncle before he spoke with surprising clarity. “The mean lady—” he pointed toward Sofie, “—tried to make Pretty Lady Dysis look bad, but she didn’t do anything! I saw it, granddad! She tripped, and then she blamed Dysis!”A murmur rippled through the room, eyes darting from Sof
The party had descended into a low hum of whispers as the last guests made their way toward the exit. The evening, meant to be a celebration, had become a spectacle of half-spoken truths and mounting tensions. The question on everyone’s mind, though unspoken, was clear: What did Dysis really mean to Alexander Levi?As Alexander and Dysis stood by the grand doorway, ready to leave the mansion, the weight of the night seemed to press down on them both. Dysis’s mind raced, still processing the stares, the whispered gossip, and, most significantly, the possessive look Alexander had given her earlier. Despite her growing connection to him, the entire evening had left her uneasy, as if everything around them was shifting. “Are we really leaving?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended. Alexander, ever the enigma, met her eyes with his usual unreadable expression. “We are.” She gave him a brief nod, turning her attention to the large wooden doors ahead. But just as they were abo
Dysis groaned as she sat up, untangling herself from Alexander’s arms. Her dress was ruined—ripped in several places thanks to the chaos from earlier. She sighed, trying to pull at the fabric, but the intricate design made it impossible. She hadn’t dressed herself—four maids had helped her into it before the party. She glanced at Alexander, who was now propped up against the headboard, observing her with a grin. “Could you assist me in getting out of this dress?” she inquired, feeling flustered. Alexander raised a brow, amused. “Are you asking me to undress you?” Dysis’ face heated. “No! I mean, yes—but not like that! Just the back—ugh, forget it!” She marched to the bathroom before he could poke fun at her anymore. Inside, she battled with the dress for about five minutes before it dawned on her something dreadful—she had no other outfit. “Alexander!” she called through the door. “I need something to wear!” He chuckled from the other side. “So you do need my help after
He caught it effortlessly—of course he did—and raised an amused brow. “Violence? After everything I just did for you?” “You call making fun of me ‘helping’?” she snapped, burying herself deeper under the covers. “And don’t act like killing a spider is some grand heroic act. You were probably just showing off.” Alexander smirked, tossing the pillow onto the bed. “If I was showing off, I’d have made sure you were watching.” Dysis let out an exasperated groan and turned away from him, pulling the blanket over her head. This man is impossible.A beat of silence passed. Then she heard the rustle of fabric, followed by the dip of the mattress. Her body went rigid. He was on the bed. “W-what do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was unexpectedly high-pitched, causing embarrassment. Alexander reclined against the headboard, extending himself next to her as if he were meant to be there. “Getting comfortable.” Dysis peeked out from under the blanket and glared at him. “Go to your
The morning sunlight streamed through the thick curtains, creating a gentle illumination throughout the room. The soft buzz of the mansion was far off, smothered by the heavy walls, with just the noise of consistent breathing in the gap between them. Dysis lay still, her body tense, fully aware of the weight draped over her waist—Alexander’s arm. His presence was overwhelming, his warmth pressing into her back, his grip firm as if holding her there on instinct. Her heartbeat betrayed her. It drummed too fast, too erratic, as if her body hadn’t gotten the message her mind was screaming: This doesn’t mean anything. She inhaled sharply, trying to shake off the disorienting pull of him. Carefully, she shifted, attempting to slip out of his grasp. But before she could move an inch, his grip tightened. “Alexander,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended. He grumbled in response, low and rough, not fully awake—but unwilling to let go. Her breath caught. He was still a
The morning sunlight streamed through the grand windows of the Levi estate as a maid carefully fastened the last button on Dysis’s dress. It was a gentle, flowing garment featuring an intricate floral pattern, the material airy against her skin. It was a gentle, flowing garment featuring an intricate floral pattern, the material airy against her skin. The soft pastel shades complemented her, giving her an elegant yet subtle look—precisely the type of presence that wouldn’t attract excessive attention. "You look lovely, miss," the maid remarked respectfully, stepping back to appreciate her handwork.Dysis managed a small smile. "Thank you."A knock at the door interrupted them, and another maid stepped in, bowing slightly. "Miss Dysis, Lady Lili has requested your presence at the dining table for breakfast with the family."Dysis blinked. "She… requested me?"The maid nodded. "She wishes to apologize for her behavior at the party."An apology? That surprised her. She hadn't had much i
Laughter filled Dysis’s room as she and Brayden played together, his small hands eagerly stacking blocks into a wobbly tower. Every time it collapsed, he let out an exaggerated gasp, eyes wide with delight before urging her to help him build it again."You have to be careful, Brayden," Dysis teased, placing a block with precision. "If it falls again, I’m blaming you."Brayden grinned. "Nooo! You did it last time!"Brayden's small hand tugged at the hem of Dysis’s dress, his bright blue eyes wide with curiosity. “Can I stay with you a little longer?” Dysis hesitated, glancing toward the open door where Silver had left moments ago. The mansion was vast, and the boy likely felt lonely despite its grandeur. Additionally, she had developed an affection for him in a manner she hadn’t anticipated. “Okay,” she murmured gently, tousling his golden hair. A wide smile emerged on Brayden’s face as he hopped onto the soft rug in her room. He pulled out several toy soldiers from his pocket and
The moment they arrived the security at the estate doubled. Guards were at the entrance while inside the premises the tension was charged.Alexander wasted no time at all giving orders, his voice imperious and sharp as he spoke to his troops. Dysis stood off to the side, noticing the way that all of them sprang at his every word.He was himself present. He was at easeGone was the man who had looked at her with something so vulnerable standing by the side of the road. In his place was someone untouchable.“Get every bodyguard on the ready,” Alexander instructed Milo at the front door to wait for their arrival. “Nobody sees this house without me knowing about it first.”Milo nodded hastily, already getting out his phone.Dysis crossed her arms. “What about me?” she asked.Alexander’s gaze turned to her. "You stay here."She scoffed. “That’s it?”“That’s everything,” he told me, coming closer to me, his voice lowering to a deep timbre. “You're not leaving without me again."Dysis glared
The sun had hardly risen beyond the horizon, leaving golden lines like spilled honey across the sea. A gentle breeze fluttered the white linen drapes of the villa and ruckled the palm leaves over the island. Barefoot, Dysis stood at the brink of the balcony, her honey-brown hair falling in loose waves down her back. The air smelt seawater and orchids, combining with the warmth of sun-kissed stone. Her eyes shining with mischief and sunset-colored wonder, she turned towards the sea.She’d found a red bikini tucked neatly inside a drawer packed by Alexander, though he’d claimed otherwise and without hesitation, slipped it on. Rich and strong on her soft, brilliant skin, it hugged her body as if it had been designed for her. Her contours shined like sun-lit polished pearls. Her hips swung softly as she strolled down to the shore, feet sliding into the warm, powdered sand. She laughed as she walked further into the sea; it lapped at her toes, chilly and mocking. There was no one else he
The private estate was cloaked in silence, the kind that warned of danger long before it arrived. Cormac Carter stood before the large fireplace, the flames low as shadows moved along the stone walls. Under his fitted suit, his broad shoulders were stiff; his silver-streaked hair slid back precisely. From his fingers, unbroken, a crystal glass of aged bourbon hung. One of his guys stopped at the threshold behind him and started to shift uneasily. “Say it again”, Cormac said, his voice low and icy, slanted with poison. The man swallowed. “Dysis Salmon... She's the heiress to the Everhart bloodline. Confirmed. The Levi heir married her. She’s with Alexander now.” Cormac turned slowly, his eyes glinting with restrained fury. “So,” he muttered, stepping toward the man, “the girl promised to my nephew… was stolen. Claimed. Not just by anyone but by Alexander Levi.” He crushed the glass in his palm, shards falling like ice. “And he killed Max.” The words hissed from his mouth like
Dysis lay curled into the curve of Alexander’s body, the steady thud of his heart on her cheek grounding her in a moment that felt much too delicate for the world they lived in. Her waist had slipped the blanket, and the silky sheets twisted around them while the storm outside murmured against the windows. Her voice broke the silence. Soft. Hesitant. “Where’s my mother?” Alexander’s fingers paused where they were threading gently through her hair. “I told her to leave,” he said calmly. Dysis pulled back just enough to look up at him, confusion flickering in her tired eyes. “What? Why?” “I thought you wouldn’t mind me sending her away,” Alexander said, watching her reaction closely. “She was the reason you passed out.” Her breath hitched. “But I just…” “Don’t cry again.” His voice became light-hearted, his lips curving slightly as he looked away from her. "I was only kidding." "I wasn't going to cry," She said, but her pink cheeks backstabbed her. He mocked, his tone lamp
Back to the Present For hours the rain had not ceased. From outside, the heavens softly wept against the windows, drops on glass-like fingers. The polished floor had a muted orange glow as the fire in the sitting room burned to embers. Dysis folded her legs under her and laid a blanket sloppily across her lap on the velvet chaise. She was not warmed by it. Not really. Her mind was too full, too heavy. Adam sat across from her. No longer the towering, untouchable patriarch. Just a man with tired eyes and a voice thick with regret. “So,” Dysis said quietly, almost afraid to say it aloud, “you knew Lili tried to have Alexander killed?” Adam’s eyes dropped to the rug. His jaw clenched. “Yes.” Dysis sat up straighter, her heart suddenly pounding. “And you did nothing?” “I confronted her,” Adam replied. His voice was hoarse, rough from unsaid things. “I let her know I was aware of her schemes. I spared her… for Silver and Giselle’s sake.” Dysis blinked. That was it? "That's all
The room still hadn’t moved. Not really.Time seemed to bend under the weight of what it signified as Adam Levi announced his second son the successor to the empire. As if the house had stopped to listen, dust particles floated slowly through a shaft of afternoon sunlight, and the crackle of the fire in the hearth got louder in the silence.But the true silence came from Lili.She had said nothing at all. Her fingers, coated in a frost-toned gloss, shook slightly on the stem of her crystal wine glass. It was still full. She hadn’t taken a single sip all evening.She couldn’t.Not with him in the room.Not with Alexander sitting there, one leg crossed over the other, draped in that black wool coat with silver stitching like it had been sewn by ghosts. The candlelight danced across the crest on his hand—the Levi sigil, glinting ominously with every breath he took.He didn’t speak.Didn’t gloat.Didn’t even flinch when Silver stormed out of the boardroom, his footsteps echoing like gunsh
Another year passed.And then another.Fourteen winters had clawed their way across the cliffs of the North before the gates opened again. The iron doors groaned like beasts roused from slumber, spilling out a silhouette wreathed in morning fog and silence.He walked like he owned the ground beneath him.Not like the boy who had entered.No—he was something else now.Alexander Levi’s hair had been trimmed close to the scalp, the inky black strands now neat, severe. His jawline cut clean, cheeks hollowed by years of discipline, hardship, and war. The softness of his childhood had been carved away, chiseled into something sharp. Lethal. Beautiful in a cold, brutal way.He wore a long black coat, the kind lined in silver thread at the collar, shoulders squared with the weight of command. His boots struck the earth like thunder. A ring glinted on his right hand—a crest of the North carved into it. The mark of survival.Not everyone earned it.But Alexander hadn’t just earned it.He’d owne
Adam Levi's office door creased as it swung open. The room was dark, only the orange glow of one desk lamp lighting it. From a half-burned cigar in a crystal ashtray, smoke coiled sloppily. Towering and loaded with ancient leather-bound volumes that smelt of dust, conflict, and tradition, bookshelves ran down the walls The air smelt strongly of cedarwood and ash, swallowing the faint winter trace coming from the window crevices. Silent Alexander entered, his bare feet soft against the smooth hardwood floor. He wore a big jumper that hung off one shoulder with sleeves engulfing his hands. He felt a breeze from the slightly ajar window, but he did not react. His experience with cold was one of adaptation. Adam turned his back on him. He stood behind his desk, wide back stiff under a dark suit. Under low light, the grey in his hair stood more clearly. With one hand he clutched a glass of bourbon, the ice clicking softly as he spun it. His other hand rested on a hefty, sealed, crimso
One Year Later The Levi estate stood silent, wrapped in fog and frost. The mansion, once alive with Rosie’s laughter and sunlight spilling through open windows, had grown cold—like something sacred had been buried inside its walls. A clock ticked softly somewhere in the distance. The fire in the parlor crackled, but it gave no warmth. Adam sat at the edge of his office desk. His hands were stained with oil and blood—both recent. Though the air was cold, his black shirt fit his back and hung with sweat. His tie disappeared from view on the floor next to a broken whisky tumbler. A long gash stretched across the side of his palm, still bleeding. He hadn’t spoken in hours. Not a word. The leather chair behind his desk remained untouched, like a throne he no longer deserved. He no longer ruled with strategy or calculation. He ruled with silence. With steel. With the kind of violence that didn’t end when justice was served—but hunted until it bled out everything. Every na
Six Years Later Alexander's sixth birthday started with laughter early in the morning. Like birdsong during a protracted storm, high-pitched and brilliant it rang through the Levi mansion's hallways. With his silk pyjama pants hanging around his legs and hair tangled and sticking out in a hundred ways, the lad went barefoot down the great staircase. His laughter echoed off gilded mirrors and marble columns, a sound so innocent it felt like a revolt in a house constructed on steel and shadows. “Alexander!” Rosie’s voice trailed behind him, laughing too. “Shoes! What did I say about running like a little wolf?” He darted behind the banister."Wolves do not wear shoes!" She grabbed him at the stair foot and gently raised him in her arms, kissing his warm, drowsy cheek. Like childhood, like everything good she had ever dared to wish for, he smelt of honeyed milk and sunshine. She said, "You're six now," softly moving his dark hair off his forehead. “That’s ancient.” “Ancient?” he