Dysis’s thoughts raced as she devised a frantic strategy. She leaned back against the wall, feigning sleep as she heard the footsteps of one of Max's bodyguards getting closer. The lock snapped, and the stout door groaned as it opened. “Food,” the man growled roughly, setting a tray down on the table. Dysis remained motionless, breathing steadily, her heart racing within her chest. She could sense the ribbon pressing into her wrists, so tightly that the skin was starting to tear, blood running down her hands. The bodyguard approached, bending down to see if she was alert. It was this moment or not at all. Gathering all her power, Dysis raised her restrained hands, surprising him with a sudden blow to his face. He staggered backward with a grunt, and before he had a chance to regain his balance, she pushed him with her shoulder, causing him to slam into the table. Adrenaline rushed within her as she ran toward the door. She banged it closed behind her and secured it with shaky fin
Dysis’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes darted between Vee, who whimpered weakly in the guard’s grasp, and Max, whose expression was calm but deadly.“You wouldn’t,” she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.“Try me,” Max said, his tone sharp. “I have nothing to lose, I’ve already done far worse, Dysis. Don’t test how much further I’m willing to go.”Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she absorbed the impact of his words. Her thoughts raced, seeking an escape, a passage out of this nightmare. However, regardless of the direction she faced, she sensed confinement. “You’re running out of time,” Max said, holding the contract and a pen out to her. “Sign it, and I’ll let her live. Refuse, and she dies right here, right now.”Dysis’s hands trembled as she reached for the pen, her vision blurring. Was this really her only option?No!. Dysis’s expression turned steely, her eyes brimming with defiance as she faced Max’s icy gaze. "You and my dad are identical," she hi
Max was seated at his desk, sleeves pushed up, carefully wiping the blood from his hands using a white handkerchief. The red marks blotted across the cloth, a glaring reminder of his cruelty. The slight metallic odor hung in the atmosphere as he took off a handcuff from his wrist, its edges still stained with Vee’s blood. The door slowly opened with a creak, revealing a guard who entered, his face white and his hands trembling. He hesitated, unsure if interrupting Max in such a moment was wise. “Speak,” Max growled without looking up, his voice low and menacing. The guard gulped, the words catching in his throat. “Another attack on the territory, boss,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. Max finally stopped, folding the bloodied handkerchief with an eerie calmness. He stood and turned to face the guard, his eyes narrowing. The faint click of his shoes against the floor as he moved closer made the guard’s knees weak. “Again?” Max muttered, his tone sharp enough
Dysis awoke gradually, like surfacing from profound depths, her mind weighted and her body slow to respond to her needs. The antiseptic aroma of disinfectant penetrated her nose, pungent and synthetic. Soft beeping entered her ears, a cadence that connected her to reality, even as her thoughts lingered elsewhere. She blinked at the bright light, narrowing her eyes until figures started to take shape in her sight. A figure was positioned close by, calm and collected. Initially, he appeared as a shadow, but soon the features became clearer: spectacles resting on his nose, a novel grasped in his hand, and a slight crease on his forehead as his gaze moved over the text. Lucian. Her eyes stayed on him, the appearance surprisingly stabilizing. He hadn’t noticed her stirring yet, his attention absorbed by whatever he was reading. His lips moved ever so slightly, as though he silently debated the words before him.Dysis shifted, the faint rustle of fabric breaking the quiet. The motion s
The sound of Alexander’s car engine pierced the quiet night as he arrived at one of Lucian’s private hospitals. The tires squealed to a stop, and he got out, holding Dysis in his arms as if she were the most delicate object in existence. His icy-blue eyes, piercing and deliberate, appeared tranquil at first glance, yet a deeper examination exposed the tempest brewing within. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders rigid, and his hold on her revealed an uncommon vulnerability—one he couldn't allow himself to recognize. Lucian was already waiting by the entrance, alerted to their arrival moments before. His normally composed expression faltered as he took in the sight of Alexander. There was something different in the man’s demeanor tonight—an energy Lucian couldn’t quite place, but it set him on edge. “This way,” Lucian remarked, guiding Alexander through the tranquil, clinical hallway. His voice remained calm, but the slight shake in his hand as he opened the door revealed his discomf
Dysis’s recovery had been slow and grueling. The pain in her hands and head was a constant reminder of the violence that had shattered her world. Lucian had brought her back to the Levi mansion despite her protests, and now, she was under stricter care than ever before. Yet, even as her wounds healed, her mind was plagued by one question: what had happened to Vee? Vee had been left behind in Max’s mansion, bleeding from a stab wound that Dysis herself had inflicted in a desperate moment. The guilt clawed at her relentlessly. She needed to know if Vee had survived—if she had, by some miracle, forgiven her. It was this gnawing uncertainty that led her to leave her room one evening, brushing off Selena, the head maid, who tried to stop her. Determined, Dysis made her way to Alexander’s study. Her steps were slow, the dizziness from her head injury still present, but her resolve was unshaken. When she reached the study door and pushed it open, her heart sank. There stood Sofie, drap
The study of the Levi estate was immersed in soft golden light, creating elongated shadows over the bookshelves that adorned the walls. Adam Levi sat behind his grand oak desk, an imposing figure, his dark eyes cold and calculating. Facing him, Milo Thorne remained rigid, gripping his tablet as if it were a barrier. A noticeable tension filled the room as the seconds elongated into silence. "So," Adam finally spoke, his voice calm but laced with sharp authority. "She’s Thomas’s daughter?" Milo swallowed hard. Adam’s gaze was heavy, the weight of decades of power and ruthlessness behind it. The young secretary nodded. "Yes sir , sir," he replied, his tone calm even with the tight knot growing in his chest. Adam reclined in his chair, clasping his hands in his lap, his face conveying no emotions. For a moment, he said nothing, simply staring at the screen Milo had shown him moments earlier. A picture of Dysis filled the display—a candid shot taken from one of the estate’s securi
"You'll manage well without me." Vee’s calming voice broke the silence, but the feelings felt like a betrayal. I confronted her, worry swirling in my chest. "What do you mean?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended. "You’re leaving ?" She was leaning against the desk's edge, her arms crossed. The faint glow of the lamp situated behind her created a shadow, hiding her face. "I've been recommended to take a break," she said softly, her gaze steady. I became motionless. "Did Alexander ask you to go?" Vee offered a slight nod, her lips formed into a firm line. “Why is that?” I insisted, advancing nearer. "What have you done?" Her sudden laughter surprised me. “Do you believe I did anything to warrant this?” "Weren't you?" The words came out before I could prevent them. Her gaze turned somber. "Dysis, if Alexander believed I had betrayed him, I wouldn’t be here speaking with you." "I would be interred in a trench somewhere." The nonchalant manner in which she expressed it sen
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
Outside the mansion, the night air smelt jasmine buds, and through the windows one could hear the soft rustle of trees. As a fire blazed in the fireplace, the luxurious sitting area glowed in warm, golden tones. The Levi family estate saw many important occasions with its lofty columns and extravagant furniture. None would be as significant, though, as the one in the way right now.Rosie sat by the large bay window in low light, her hands softly brushing a newborn draped in exquisite, pastel blue blankets. Her face exuded an unmistakable brightness, yet it was little worn with the minor exhaustion of delivery. Looking down at the small face peeping out from the swaddling, her heart grew with a love only a mother could experience. At last here was her long-awaited son, Alexander.Adam stood in the corner of the room, his massive form silhouetted against the flickering fire. Though he weighed his eyes, a calm delight that ran deeper than anything he had ever experienced, his face exuded
Four years had spun their complex designs into the fabric of the Levi mansion. The enormous home was evidence of the passage of time with its soaring columns and vast gardens. Still, inside its boundaries, the dynamics had changed in minute, almost invisible terms. Adam Levi stayed a tower of strength and loyalty; his love for Rosie just got stronger every day. His love had not only survived but grown, like roots digging ever more into the ground. Now his eyes were softer, full of unspoken love, every touch a statement of his relentless dedication. Ever the picture of elegance, Rosie had found comfort in the daily grind. She cared for the flowers Adam had given her in the mornings, feeling the chilly ground between her hands. Afternoons were for melodies on the grand piano resonating through the hallways, the soothing tones warming the cold marble flooring. Still, something inside her stirred—a restlessness she could not quite identify—even as she had built a world of beauty all ab
Eventually, he relented.Adam Levi, once so firm in his resolve, stood before a mirror in a black suit that fit him too well. It wasn’t new. He hadn’t bothered with a custom tailoring for the occasion. What did it matter? Nothing about this day belonged to him—not really.Downstairs, the mansion pulsed with the sound of soft piano music, played by a hired musician Lili insisted on. She had a taste—refined, elegant, precise. She had orchestrated every detail of the wedding with the efficiency of someone born into this world, raised to carry it on her back.She entered the Levi family like water filling a glass—graceful, quiet, but impossible to ignore.She wore ivory, with glittering silver thread woven across it. Maybe it hung on her frame like the cloth had been spun particularly for her. Her golden hair put into a chignon exposed the sharp contours of her cheekbones, and she glided down the aisle with an elegance almost surreal. Blue eyes gleamed under the light of the chandelier—no
Months passed in silence between Adam and Rosie, like an old scar not healing. Adam had believed that time would help things to settle down, that the anguish of their hidden reality would lessen into something more doable. But it failed. It was never accomplished.Rather, the days merged into one another, mornings colder than yesterday. With her light and deliberate movements always just out of reach, Rosie walked across their mansion like a ghost. For his part, Adam submerged himself in the limitless obligations of the Levi empire. His father's loud and strong voice echoed in his memory every day, reminding him of what he had to do and what he needed to achieve. Still, there was something in the silence, the times Rosie was near when their eyes crossed a room and they didn't say but yet recognised each other, that felt like the beginning of something else. Not precisely, it was not love. not yet. But there was something more profound, something that descended below simple affection.
The cake shop felt like a universe unto itself, a little, modest haven amid a busy city. Outside, unaware of the little time Adam and Rosie had just experienced, the planet sped ahead. Inside, the air scented like vanilla and buttercream—the kind of scent that would have let even the hardest man forget the coldness of the life he led.Adam requested a slice of cake. He was unable to quite articulate why. Perhaps it was the way Rosie had eaten the sweets with such wild abandon, as though she had no regard for the guidelines of the society in which she lived. Perhaps it was because he experienced something not quite the keen edge of control for the first time in a very long period. Though it felt more than that, the cake was a rich, luscious treat, a transient pleasure. It felt like the start of something he was not yet able to name.Rosie didn't flinch as he sat beside her; his posture is always exact and tight. Though his presence still carried power, there was something different abo