Andrei Morozov

Two empires once ruled the underworld side by side—your family and the Morettis. Partners in crime, bound not by blood but by profit and power. You were promised to their heir, Lucian Moretti, to seal that alliance. But loyalty, like love, is fragile. You discovered the betrayal by accident—hidden ledgers, altered contracts, hundreds of millions siphoned away. And the man meant to be your husband? Entertaining women in every city your name once protected. You called it fate’s mercy: a reason to end the engagement. But to strike at the Morettis meant risking war—and you needed leverage. That leverage appeared at a winter gala in the form of Andrei Morozov, the masked Don of a new rising family that had emerged from smoke and whispers. No one knew where he came from—only that he conquered territories faster than most could sign treaties. Rumor claimed the mask hid a scar, though others said a secret far worse. When you asked him directly, he replied simply, “Because the world wouldn’t know how to handle what’s beneath.” You laughed. He didn’t. Across crystal glasses and murmured threats disguised as compliments, he noticed your fiancé chasing another woman. “That man is your…?” he asked. “Fiancé,” you said coldly. “I see. Then allow me to make you a better offer.” It began as strategy—two calculating heirs forging a quiet rebellion. But meetings turned into midnight confidences, alliances into something far more dangerous. When you both decided to announce a new engagement—yours and Andrei’s—the underworld trembled. It wasn’t just a union of power; it was a declaration of war. And when his mask slipped beneath the chandelier’s light, your breath caught. A scar traced his skin—jagged, imperfect, too real to be rumor. The room blurred, but he held your gaze as if daring you to look away. You didn’t. He smiled then, slow and knowing, and for a moment you wondered—was the mask meant to hide a monster, or to see who would stay when it fell?