The Truth Was Never Meant to Be Found (Emily’s POV)

The apartment was too quiet.

I shut the door behind me, letting the silence settle around me, thick and heavy. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the walls like they weren’t mine. Like I hadn’t lived here for years.

I used to think this place was my safe haven.

Now, it felt like a cage.

I ran my fingers over the edge of the kitchen counter, my chest tightening. My reflection stared back at me in the glass cabinet doors—tired, worn, haunted. The faint bruises on my wrists were nearly gone, but I could still feel them. The ghost of Alex’s grip. The weight of his control.

I exhaled, shaking it off.

I was free.

He let me go.

Then why did it still feel like he was everywhere?

I needed answers.

I grabbed my laptop and sank onto the couch, my fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing the word that had been circling my mind since the moment Alex whispered it like a curse.

Dayavolicia.

I didn’t know what I was expecting. Some mafia ritual, another twisted tradition that explained his obsession. But what I found was something else.

A contract.

My stomach twisted.

I clicked the file, scanning the words, my breath slowing as the meaning settled in.

"Two bound in blood, neither free until the contract is fulfilled."

My fingers froze on the trackpad.

I scrolled further, my pulse hammering. Two families. The Nikolais. The Volkovs.

The name hit like a fist to the ribs.

Volkov.

Alex’s mother’s maiden name.

No.

No, that wasn’t possible.

I clicked deeper, my vision blurring. My pulse roared in my ears as the pieces slammed into place.

This wasn’t just a pact between two families.

It was a marriage contract.

And my name—**my mother’s name—**was right there.

A sharp creak.

I whipped around.

Salley stood in the doorway.

I swallowed hard. “Jesus, Salley—”

She didn’t move. Just stood there, her face too unreadable.

A strange chill crawled up my spine.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

She took a step forward. “Long enough.”

My breath caught.

I clenched my jaw. “You knew.”

She sighed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

The air felt too thick, pressing down on me.

She walked past me, fingers trailing over the bookshelf, finally pulling out something small.

A notebook.

Red leather. Worn edges.

She turned it over in her hands before holding it out. “Your mother’s.”

I stared at it, my fingers trembling as I took it.

My mother’s handwriting. Frantic. Rushed.

Scattered words. Half-written thoughts. Warnings.

Then a single line that made my stomach plummet.

"I tried to keep you safe, but you were never meant to escape. You are the last piece of the puzzle."

Salley exhaled. “Your mother knew what Dayavolicia really was. She tried to stop it.”

A sharp, cold pressure gripped my ribs.

No. No, she died in a car accident. An accident.

I forced the words out, my voice shaking. “And what happened to her?”

Salley hesitated. Then, quietly, “She died, Emily. Because she went against it.”

I felt the ground shift beneath me.

Salley stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Your mother was a Volkov. The last one.”

My stomach twisted.

She exhaled. “Alex’s mother was a Volkov too. She married into the Nikolai family.” Her expression darkened. “She didn’t have a choice.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t mean—”

Salley’s voice hardened. “Your mother tried to break the pact. She tried to run. And they killed her for it.”

My throat locked.

She took another step, her eyes unreadable. “You think Alex was obsessed with you by chance?” She tilted her head. “You were always meant to be his.”

I staggered back. “No.”

“Your family and the Nikolais made a pact. Not a business deal. A blood contract.”

My pulse slammed against my ribs.

I forced myself to speak. “What kind of contract?”

Salley hesitated.

Then, finally, she whispered the words that shattered me.

“A marriage pact. One that can’t be broken.”

I stumbled, gripping the desk.

“No. No, that’s insane—”

“Your mother thought so too,” Salley murmured. “She tried to break it. But you can’t erase something that deep.” She exhaled. “You were promised to him before you were even born.”

I felt sick.

Every moment with Alex—his control, his obsession, his possessiveness—it wasn’t just his madness.

It was by design.

Salley’s voice dropped. “If the pact isn’t fulfilled, both families fall.”

I swallowed hard. “And if I refuse?”

She hesitated.

Then, her voice steady, “Then you die.”

I could barely breathe.

I thought of my mother. The fear in her eyes before she died. The hushed phone calls. The way she looked at me like she was running out of time.

She knew.

She had tried to stop it.

And it got her killed.

My throat tightened. “What if I try to break it?”

Salley’s eyes darkened.

She took a slow step closer. “Then you don’t just risk yourself.”

Her voice was lower now. Almost a warning.

“You risk taking Alex down with you.”

I barely recognized my own voice when I whispered, “And if I do?”

Salley didn’t blink.

“Then the world will come for you both.”

The weight of it crashed down on me.

There was never going to be a way out.

And now, I had to choose.

Salley’s expression darkened, the weight of what she was about to say pressing into the room.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice was eerily calm. “Your mother wasn’t just a Volkov.”

I swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

She exhaled. “Alex’s mother was connected to the Volkovs, but she wasn’t one by blood. Not like your mother. She married into the Nikolais, but she was never the heir.”

My pulse slammed in my ears.

Salley watched me closely. “Your mother was the last true Volkov. The one who was meant to continue the bloodline. That’s why they chose you.”

A sickening realization settled over me.

This wasn’t just about power.

It was about legacy. Control. Ownership.

Salley tilted her head. “You weren’t just promised to Alex, Emily. You were inherited.”

A sharp, suffocating chill wrapped around my ribs.

Inherited. Like I was never meant to belong to myself.

I felt the world close in on me.

A soft rustle.

I turned.

My breath caught in my throat.

On the desk beside my laptop, sitting perfectly placed, like someone had been here before me, was a single black rose.

The thorns had been clipped.

A chill ran through my veins.

Because I had seen this before.

At my mother’s grave.

Hey, beautiful souls! ✨

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