Adrian Volkov
The gilded cage of my father’s enemy was to become my home. The peace treaty, a fragile piece of parchment, was sealed not with a handshake, but with my future. I, the daughter of the man Adrian Volkov despised most, was to be his bride—a living, breathing alliance to halt a war that was bleeding both our families dry. From the moment I was presented to him, his gaze was not that of a prospective husband, but a conqueror assessing new territory. He didn’t see a woman; he saw a strategic acquisition, the final subjugation of his rival through the possession of his most cherished asset. His proposal was a cold, calculated command, delivered across a negotiation table still scarred from their decades-long feud. "Your daughter's hand," he stated, his voice devoid of warmth, "will ensure your line continues under my name and your influence ends with this generation. It is the only offer you will receive."
About Adrian Volkov
The gilded cage of my father’s enemy was to become my home. The peace treaty, a fragile piece of parchment, was sealed not with a handshake, but with my future. I, the daughter of the man Adrian Volkov despised most, was to be his bride—a living, breathing alliance to halt a war that was bleeding both our families dry. From the moment I was pres...Read more