Chapter 2 - THE MIDNIGHT AMENDMENTThe offices of Moretti Holdings occupied the entire forty-second floor of a sleek glass tower overlooking the Chicago River. At two in the morning, the city below looked like a circuit board of cold, unblinking lights.
I sat across the walnut desk from Arthur Vance, the Moretti family’s senior legal counsel, watching his pen fly across a thick stack of vellum paper.
Nikolai stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of amber whiskey in his hand, his back to the room. He hadn't spoken since we arrived, leaving me to negotiate the terms of our arrangement alone with his lawyer. It was a test, of course. He wanted to see if I would fold under pressure or ask for petty vengeance.
“The trust transfer is complete,” Arthur announced, setting his pen down with a sharp click and pushing a gold-trimmed folder toward me. “Miss Hart—soon to be Mrs. Moretti—you will hold sole voting rights over the Hart-Moretti logistics corridor. Furthermore, Julian’s personal accounts, which were heavily leveraged against your grandfather’s estate, are now frozen pending a fraud audit.”
I opened the folder, scanning the legal language with the cold precision I usually reserved for corporate spreadsheets. Every line was airtight. Every loophole had been sewn shut with industrial-grade thread.
“And my father?” I asked without looking up.
“Your father’s corporate signature has been revoked,” Arthur replied smoothly. “He is currently drafting an emergency statement explaining why his eldest daughter’s sudden marriage to Nikolai Moretti supersedes all previous matrimonial announcements.”
I let out a slow breath. It was ruthless. It was absolute.
“Good,” I said, signing my name across the bottom line with a steady hand.
Nikolai turned away from the window. He walked over, picked up the document, and checked my signature before closing the folder with a soft thud. He looked down at me, his grey eyes searching my face as if looking for cracks in the glass.
“No hesitation?” he asked.
“Should there be?” I met his gaze without flinching. “You gave me a weapon, Nikolai. I’m just using it.”
A low, approving rumble came from deep in his chest. He set the folder aside, walked to the heavy oak door, and pulled it open for his lawyer.
“Arthur, have the papers filed with the registrar by eight o’clock. Then notify the security detail at the North Shore estate that Mrs. Moretti will be arriving tomorrow.”
“Right away, Mr. Moretti.”
When the door clicked shut, the office fell silent again, save for the hum of the climate control system.
Nikolai walked back toward me, stopping just inches away. The sheer physical presence of him was overwhelming—not because he tried to intimidate, but because he moved with the absolute certainty of a predator who never had to worry about running.
“You realize,” he said softly, “that tomorrow morning, your father and Julian are going to wake up and realize their entire world has been dismantled.”
“They should have thought of that before they invited my sister to my engagement party wearing my dress,” I replied coldly.
May you like
Nikolai’s lips twitched into a genuine smile—rare, sharp, and dangerously attractive.
“You’re going to fit in just fine with my family, Evelyn,” he murmured. “Come. Let’s go home. You have a very busy day of ruining lives ahead of you.”
