Take care of my daughter, Axel. Be the brother she never had, the uncle you always are and the father she'll no longer have. We both know I'm not getting out of here alive.

~notes from Axel's brother.

--------᪥-------

☘︎ Axᴇʟ Hᴇʀɴᴀɴᴅᴇᴢ ☘︎

Murdered. Not dead.

Refraining myself from speaking that word ought to have been difficult, yet I couldn't let her know too much.

There's a reason the staff aren't allowed to stay over in the mansion at night, the evidence of which Tori has around her throat in the form of a nasty knife scar. There's a reason I keep away from people because the minute they know about my family, their personalities change until all that's left is bitter hatred, deeming me and Tori the culprit when we've never done anything. It only makes me want to do something to give them a reason to hate.

There's no deluding Eve wouldn't follow suit to all of their reactions. Given her history with Michael, the woman has a habit of spying around. It is better if she knew about me as less I knew of her. Which was; she's the daughter of a retired Army General and his wealthy socialite slash global influencer wife. And that my enemy had been desperate to marry her, not for love but something I can't figure out.

The telltale sound of the microwave's alarm has me focusing on the task at hand; heating the Pakistani cuisine the chef prepared before she left, the dish my niece favors.

The flavored aroma of the food follows me out the kitchen along to the second floor's left wing where Tori's lab is situated. Knowing her, she's been there the whole time. While Eve and I had dinner back in the flight, my niece must've skipped on food the first chance she got. Not because she wants to, mostly because she forgets.

I can't be her mother. But I try every day to be some family she can rely on, so that she doesn't feel the emptiness I did growing up.

The biometric scanners outside Tori's lab door does a laser sweep of my retina and with a fingerprint scan on the pad attached to the door, it swings open.

Tori is tapping down furiously on the console in front of the various monitors mounted on the wall. Her pet snake slithers from her shoulder to coil around the curls of her hair, staring at the monitors with animalistic, green serpent eyes.

I make my way over, setting down the tray of food on the only vacant place I spot next to the console, "Eat." I command my niece, crossing my arms over my chest in a feeble attempt to appear stern.

Tori passes me a cursory glance, then goes back to her typing. I chance a glance at the screens and let out a sigh. Camera footages from every roads, the exterior of Louvre Museum, Palace Of Versailles. . .there isn't a place in France with a security camera she hadn't hacked into.

"How many times must I tell you this is illegal?" I push the food towards her so she gets my message.

"It isn't illegal if no one knows about it, Uncle Xel." Tori deadpans, pausing for a second to scan the content on the food tray, "Besides, this mere task of camera mirroring is beneath my expertise. If pushed, I can master in hacking government security systems. Hopefully the system of the president of France. I just need a reason to do it."

Ofcourse, she does. Tori might seem a very mature and reserved teenager, but she still has my brother's streak of rebellion in her, just as she has her mother's brain. I'm not even sure I'm raising the kid right.

"Now that you're going to inherit the law firm, does the plan still stand?" In that moment, Tori looks younger than her age, her brown eyes saddened despite how much she conceals it.

I stare at the monitors, not really seeing anything except rage and agony that closes like a fist around my heart, squeezing till it's suffocating, "It's not just my plan, Tori. It's been my purpose all along. Voroski is going to pay for what he did to your parents." I promise in a finality meant for destruction.

Tori nods, finally picking a morsel of the food. She dips the tips of her fingers in the korma curry and holds it up in front of the snake, who licks it off her fingers greedily. I will never understand my niece's fondness for poisonous reptiles. The snake, although her most favored, isn't the only pet she owns. There's the scorpion, the lizard-like Gila Monster, the venomous snapping turtle, among many others.

"The new clothes you asked me to lend, it's over there. It'll fit her. She's as tall as I am." Tori gestures with her head towards the shopping bag on a desk at a corner of the lab. She doesn't ask why the brides got switched from Reya to Eve, something tells me she already knows. The way Tori gathers information without anyone needing to tell her, is rather eerie sometimes.

"Thank you." I ruffle Tori's hair, making sure to steer clear of the black python snaking around, "Eat and sleep well, kid. I'll leave you to it."

As I make my way to the door, Tori calls out, "Your new choice of wife seems. . . interesting."

I refrain myself from scoffing, remembering the way the woman had pestered me with non-stop questions ever since I signed the agreement and her being too curious about my things, "She's infuriating."

I'm very certain I hear a light chuckle before I exit the computer lab.

Yet nothing could prepare me for what I stumble upon as I make my way back to my suite and knock on Eve's room's door, intending to give her the clothes to change into and maybe appologize for the way I'd partially threatened her earlier.

.
.
.

☘︎ Eᴠᴇ Kᴀᴠɪɴsᴋʏ ☘︎

I'm pretty sure I can explain.

About why I'm starfishing on the bed, wearing Axel Hernandez's soft cotton-y shirt that smells of musk and forest. The heady scent invades my nostrils, messing with my brain cells and making me almost feel drunk. Or maybe I'm actually drunk. I did drink an entire bottle of vintage wine I found after snooping in one of the drawers.

In my defense, for the gown ofcourse because I have absolutely no qualms getting drunk. I was certain that if the monster wedding gown stayed on my body one more millisecond, I might as well burn the thing down and walk around naked. Not the best choice when you have a roomie, right? Even if he's a door apart.

Hence, why I picked a random white shirt from his walk-in closet and now am clad in it. Simple dimple. It has nothing to do with stubbornness. Neither does it have anything to do with the whole 'you told me not to touch your things, so I freaking wore them' scenario. Absolutely nada.

"The thing about you Eve, is that when someone tells you not to do something, you go and do exactly that." My mom's ominous voice interrupts my train of thoughts from the other line of the phone call, like she's Jesus coming to earth to chastise me and remind me of my sins.

I hone my eyeballs on the ceiling fan as it twirls and twirls, pouting as I say, "C'mon, Maa. You're actually thrilled to hear this whole runaway situation. You didn't even want me to get married to Michael. Don't be dramatic now."

Sonal Singh, global fashion influencer extraordinaire, the most chic and coolest indian-american socialite to ever breathe and my mother, lives for drama. She'd even warned me if I didn't have a moment like in one of her Bollywood movies before I die, she'd personally get me back from hell and make me live till I do. Guess her wish came true.

But ofcourse, because she's dramatic, she sighs heavily like she's depressed, "I mean if your accidental husband is hot, then it shouldn't be a problem, should it? Atleast you get blessed with the sight of him."

I groan, "Maa, I'm not planning to jump his bones." I don't tell her I sort of did jump his bones at the beach wedding altar. Neither do I inform her that Axel Hernandez is definitely a vision to behold.

"You're no fun." I can visualize her swatting her hand as if to ward away a bothersome insect, the insect being me. But then the jest leaves her tone, replaced with a solemn seriousness, "So now what are you going to do about Michael? Why does he need your inheritance lands in France?"

"About that. . ." I spring up from the bed, crossing my legs under me and sitting on the souls of my feet as I peer at the chart sprawled on the sheets, "I got two things with me when I eloped the wedding, stuffed in my bridal gown's internal pockets I asked the seamstress to stitch. One is this burner phone I'm calling you with that Michael won't be able to trace. The other. . ."

Mapping the details on the chart with my fingertips, I let a smirk slip onto my lips, "I stole the blueprints copy of the project Michael's been working on. This drug or whatever it is, which is part of the project, is going to be tested at his chemical plant in France. And guess what? The inheritance lands grandpa gifted me, it's the lands surrounding Michael's chemical plant. Basically, his chemical plant is within the circle of the inheritance I'll own once married. According to Grandpa's stupid clause, my husband will have equal rights to it. I reckon Michael needs those lands for some sort of experiment, I just have no idea what. But. . ."

Maa waits enthusiastically for me to continue, as if she knows this is going to be exciting news.

"That top-of-class, honors degree I have in Analytical Chemistry, the one that specializes in chemical research? It's time I make use of my skills." I trace my hands over the formula noted for the element Michael's scientists are creating, "Since I'm already in France and before Michael visits this country to check on his project, I could maybe go spy around the chemical plant too. In the meanwhile, we're not diverting from the plan, Maa. You tell me the candidate in France and I'll handle it. I didn't marry Axel Hernandez, asked for a security team, without thinking of the benefits I'd gain for myself from the contract."

"You evil child." My mother seems way too pleased for that to sound invigorating, "I raised you so, so right, shona. You're fantastic, bambina."

"Bambina?" My eyes widen in horror.

"Nikolai said people in Russia call girls bambina." She informs me sagely, her voice pitching higher. I faintly hear someone boom in the background to put the call on speaker.

"Maa, that is the flirty form of 'babe' in Russian. Stay away from Nikolai, he's a bad influence." I parote.

Knowing my best friend's sixteen-year-old younger brother, he would start teaching my parents pole dance by the end of his stay with them. I have no idea why Juliette insisted he stay with them for extra protection. Maybe because teenager he may be, the kid is still mafia. Still has Romano blood in him. And no one better than Romano's know how to evacuate threats. Especially ones like Michael.

"Do you hear that, Sonal? First, she breaks my heart by marrying another man and now she calls me a bad influence. The way she wounds me. Am I not human? Do I not hurt?" Nikolai's silken voice laden with that Russian accent, is so pained I almost believe him. Almost.

"Throw a vase at that kid's face. Inform him I'm nearly a decade older than him. And we're no Priyankha and Nick Jonas. Tell him to go back to his fifty something Russian girls." Even though I act repulsed, I'm secretly laughing. Nikolai is the annoying younger brother I never had.

"You need not be jealous of the Russian girls, bambina. I'm all yours." He sing-songs, crooning at me. Maa is laughing and I even hear my father roar with laughter in the background.

"I have to leave now. But shona. . ." Maa returns to the call, the traces of laughter leaving her to be replaced by something foreboding, "While I joke about it, you know what's at risk in case you grow attached. Especially to a criminal lawyer. So. . .don't fall in love with that husband of yours."

My mother cuts the call and I place my phone on the nightstand, blinking in confusion. It's not like I'm going to fall for Axel anyways.

Still reeling from her last words, when there's a knock on my door, I don't give it much thought. Quickly rolling the blueprints chart and stuffing it under the bed along with my burner phone, I drag myself to the door in a daze.

But when I pull open the door to be greeted by sandy blonde hair and storms grey eyes, I can't help my jaw from hanging. Especially when that feather-like gaze slides up from my bare legs to my body clad in his attire and he says, in that irritatingly velvety, deep voice ringed with a pinch of carefully-crafted annoyance.

"Why, pray tell, are you wearing my shirt?"

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to jump outta the window.

--------᪥♔︎᪥-------

Translation : Shona - Sweetie

I really tried to stuff the shirt scene here but the word count turned out long enough already so like....next chapter it is. Do not virtually murder me, hooman beings🏃‍♀️

Lemme know your thoughts on the chapter? On Nikolai? Tori and Axel? Sonal and Eve? Or the weather maybe?👀

I know a lot of things might not make sense right now, but trust me it eventually will!🤝

Also also, coz y'all wanted to know the update schedule. I just wanna say I can low-key never stick to a schedule even if my life was on line. I mean the assignments I do right before the deadline is a stark example. So yeah. But because of my undying love for y'all, let's hope I can stick to updates twice a week on Mondays and Thursdays👀🤞