Chapter 4 - The Announcement
The headline dropped at 7:00 AM on Monday morning, bypassing the traditional society columns and landing straight on the front page of every major news outlet and financial blog in the Midwest.
MORETTI EMPIRE SHOCKER: NIKOLAI MORETTI ANNOUNCES SURPRISE MARRIAGE TO EVELYN HART.
Beside the bold print was a professionally shot photograph taken during our private civil ceremony at City Hall late Sunday night. In it, I stood beside Nikolai wearing a sharp, tailored white blazer dress, my hair swept up into an elegant chignon, my expression cool, composed, and utterly serene. Nikolai stood slightly behind me, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back, looking directly into the camera lens with the chilling authority of a man who owned the city.
By 8:30 AM, my phone was vibrating so violently off the marble countertop in Nikolai’s penthouse kitchen that I thought the screen would shatter.
Missed calls: 47 from my mother.
Missed calls: 19 from my father.
Text messages: A deluge of frantic, hysterical paragraphs from Serena, alternating between crying emojis and demands to know what the hell I thought I was doing.
I picked up the phone, unlocked it, and watched my mother’s name flash across the screen for the forty-eighth time.
With a calm, steady breath, I swiped the screen and hit Accept, putting the phone on speaker before setting it back down on the counter.
“Evelyn Hart! Have you completely lost your mind?!” my mother’s voice shrieked through the speaker, so high-pitched it was nearly unrecognizable. “Are you trying to destroy this family?! Marrying Nikolai Moretti behind our backs—without telling us, without consulting your father—do you have any idea what this does to Serena and Julian’s position?!”
I leaned back against the counter, taking a slow sip of my black coffee, letting the silence stretch out before I spoke.
“Good morning, Mother,” I said, my voice dripping with icy calm. “It’s Evelyn Moretti now, actually. Try to get used to it. It’ll save you some embarrassment at the country club.”
A sharp gasp echoed through the line. “You ungrateful, spiteful little bitch! You did this out of jealousy! You couldn't bear the thought of your younger sister having a better life than you, so you threw yourself at a dangerous monster just to spite her!”
“Actually,” a deep, resonant voice interrupted from the doorway.
I looked up. Nikolai was leaning against the kitchen archway, dressed in a bespoke three-piece black suit, looking devastatingly sharp. He pushed off the frame and walked slowly toward the island, his dark eyes fixed on the phone speaker.
“Actually, Mrs. Hart,” Nikolai continued, his voice smooth, lethal, and dripping with controlled menace, “Evelyn didn't throw herself at anyone. I sought her out. I demanded her hand. Because unlike my brother, who settles for damaged goods and hand-me-downs, I prefer a queen.”
The line went utterly, deafeningly dead on the other end.
Nikolai reached out, tapped the red button, and ended the call.
“You didn't have to do that,” I said, though a dark, vindictive thrill curled warm in my chest.
“I wanted to,” Nikolai replied simply, pouring himself a cup of black coffee. “Besides, your family needs to understand immediately that the rules of engagement have changed. You are no longer the girl they can push into the background or trade away for social leverage. You are a Moretti now. And nobody touches my wife.”
Before I could process the strange, protective warmth those words stirred inside me, the intercom chimed softly from the foyer.
May you like
Nikolai’s head turned toward the door. A cold, sharp glint appeared in his amber eyes.
“It looks like our first uninvited guests have arrived downstairs,” Nikolai murmured, setting his mug down. “Shall we go down and greet them?”
