Chapter 3 - The CounterofferThe elevator bell chimed softly behind us, its cheerful ding sounding absurdly out of place in the sudden, electric tension of the corridor.
I didn't move. I didn't blink. I stared up at Nikolai Moretti, searching his face for a sign of mockery, a cruel joke engineered to amuse the ruthless older brother at my expense.
Found nothing. His expression remained an unreadable mask of absolute, terrifying certainty.
Penny grabbed my wrist, her fingernails digging in again, this time out of pure panic. “Evelyn… did he just… what did he just say?”
“He said what he meant,” I replied, my voice dangerously low as I kept my eyes locked on Nikolai. I pulled my arm gently out of Penny’s grip and stepped closer to the head of the Moretti empire. “Are you out of your mind, Nikolai? Your brother just publicly humiliated me in front of every power player in Illinois, and your solution is to step up and offer yourself as a replacement groom like we’re trading livestock at a county fair?”
A slow, dangerous shadow of a smile touched the corner of Nikolai’s mouth. It didn't reach his eyes, but it transformed his face from intimidating to predatory.
“It’s not livestock, Evelyn. It’s an acquisition,” Nikolai said smoothly. “Julian thinks he’s traded up by taking your sister. He thinks her social climbing and fragile innocence make her a trophy wife for his expansion plans into the city council. What he doesn't realize is that Serena is a liability wrapped in silk. She doesn't know the first thing about the Moretti holdings, she folds under pressure, and within six months, she’ll leak our corporate restructuring plans to the highest bidder just to buy a new yacht.”
“And I suppose you think I wouldn’t?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the woman he just discarded for my younger sister. Why would I want to tie myself to the very family that spat on me?”
“Because you didn’t cry,” Nikolai answered instantly.
The words hit me like a splash of freezing water.
“When my brother walked in with your sister wearing your dress, every woman in that ballroom would have broken down, screamed, or thrown a glass of champagne,” Nikolai continued, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic register. “You stood your ground. You shed your mother’s grip like dead weight. And the moment you realized your family had sold you out, you didn't beg for mercy—you started calculating your exit.”
Nikolai took another step forward, closing the space until I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his gaze.
“You’re wasted on Julian, Evelyn. You spent three years helping him draft the business models for his real estate division while he took all the credit. You know his weaknesses, his debts, his fragile ego, and every skeleton buried in the Moretti family trusts. If you marry Julian, you spend the rest of your life playing the gracious, humiliated ex-fancée hiding in the shadow of her golden-child sister.”
He paused, letting the silence wrap around us like a heavy velvet cloak.
“If you marry me,” Nikolai whispered, “you don’t just get revenge. You get total control.”
My breath caught in my throat. My mind raced through the sheer magnitude of what he was proposing. Marrying Nikolai Moretti wasn’t just a rebound; it was a declaration of war against Julian, my parents, and the entire Chicago social hierarchy that had just watched me get tossed aside. It was stepping off a cliff into an abyss of absolute power.
“And what do you get out of this?” I asked, my voice sharp. “The Moretti empire doesn't need a wife to secure its future, Nikolai. You already own half the city.”
“My board has been pressuring me to settle down for two years,” Nikolai said smoothly, a cold gleam in his slate-gray eyes. “They want a traditional union to project stability before our public merger with the European shipping syndicates next quarter. Julian was supposed to provide that stability, but he’s a reckless idiot who lets a pretty face compromise multi-million dollar deals.”
He extended his hand, palm up, hovering an inch away from mine.
“I need a wife who won’t flinch when things get bloody. You need a platform to burn Julian’s world to the ground without lifting a finger yourself. It’s a clean, efficient merger.”
Penny let out a faint, strangled sound behind me. “Evelyn… do not take the hand of a mob boss in a hotel hallway! This is insane!”
I ignored Penny. My eyes were fixed on Nikolai’s hand. Strong, calloused, devoid of hesitation.
“If I say yes,” I said slowly, testing the weight of the words, “there are terms.”
“Name them,” Nikolai replied without blinking.
“First, my father’s corporate accounts are cut out of any future Moretti real estate developments. Permanently. Second, I want full independent equity in the downtown hotel portfolio—not as your subordinate, but as a managing partner with veto power. And third…”
I smiled, a cold, sharp expression that mirrored his own.
“...at the upcoming holiday gala next week, we announce our engagement before Julian and Serena even have time to send out their Save-The-Dates.”
Nikolai stared at me for three agonizing seconds. Then, a deep, resonant chuckle rumbled in his chest.
May you like
“Done,” he said, sliding his palm against mine and closing his fingers around my hand in a firm, unbreakable grip.
“Welcome to the family, Evelyn.”
