The heavy oak doors of the cathedral groaned open, revealing an interior lit by hundreds of flickering candles and filled with the somber echo of a choir. The air was thick with the scent of lilies and old stone.
At the front, rows of pews were filled with the underworld's most powerful figures. Victor's father sat in the center, flanked by the other four Lords and their wives. Tradition dictated that Victor, as the primary heir, should take his place in the very first row.
But as they stepped inside, Alia stopped.
She looked at the altar, then at the sprawling crowd. She was acutely aware that her faith and her background were different from theirs. She didn't feel it was right to stand at the front of a ceremony that didn't belong to her religion—nor did she want to be a spectacle for the judging eyes of the Pentagon.
Alia's Choice:
Quietly, Alia let go of Victor's hand and slipped into the shadows of the very last row, sitting at a secluded corner table. She chose to be a ghost in the house of God.
Victor's Reaction:
Victor paused, his royal coat sweeping the floor as he turned. The entire congregation was watching him, expecting him to march to the front. But when he saw Alia sitting alone in the dim light of the back, his resolve broke. He didn't care about the stares or the protocol. He walked back and sat right beside her.
Victor: (In a low, gravelly whisper) "Everyone is waiting for us at the front, Alia. Why are you sitting here?"
Alia: "My path is different, Victor. I don't belong at your altar. I will show my respect from here, in silence."
Victor looked at her for a long moment. A flicker of pain and admiration crossed his eyes. He sighed, leaning back against the wooden bench. "Your faith is yours," he murmured, "but my only faith is you. Where you sit, I stay."
The Hidden Truth: Overhearing the Treachery
Because they were sitting in the dark back row, the other Lords assumed Victor was either absent or too far away to hear. They began to whisper, their voices carrying through the cathedral's perfect acoustics.
Lord Marcos: (Leaning toward Dragunov) "Look at Victor. He's gone soft. Sitting in the back like a servant because of that girl. This is our chance. When the old man announces the inheritance, we move as one."
Lord Dragunov: "Agreed. If Victor is too busy playing husband to a captive, he doesn't deserve the crown. We'll split the territory before the sun sets."
Nikolai's Wife: (Hissing to the woman next to her) "Look at her. She thinks she's a Queen with that green tiara, but she's just a distraction. Victor is losing his mind over a pretty face."
Alia's eyes sharpened. She glanced at Victor and saw his jaw tighten, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table. His "killer" instinct was waking up.
Before he could stand up and cause a bloodbath, Alia reached out and firmly placed her hand over his. It was the first time she had initiated a touch to comfort him.
Alia: (Whispering urgently) "Not yet, Victor... Let them speak. Let them dig their own graves with their tongues. We are the only ones who know the truth now."
Victor looked at her, stunned. He realized that Alia wasn't just his wife anymore; she was becoming his most dangerous strategist. She was a Godmother in the making.The service ended, and the heavy doors opened once more. Outside, a light drizzle continued to fall, the sky draped in a mournful grey. Everyone moved toward the private cemetery behind the cathedral.
It was a hauntingly beautiful scene. Hundreds of the underworld's elite stood in solid black attire. From above, the sea of black umbrellas looked like an endless dark tide.
Victor and Alia stood on a slight incline, slightly apart from the crowd. Victor's long coat whipped in the wind as he held Alia close. Among all the betrayal and secrets, she was his only anchor.
As the casket was lowered, the other Lords watched them with cold, calculating eyes. They didn't know that Victor and Alia had already heard their treachery. Victor's father signaled for him to come forward.
Victor and Alia walked to the edge of the grave. Alia adjusted her veil, her green tiara shimmering under the rain. As Victor threw the first handful of earth, he whispered to Alia, "They think this is an end, but for our enemies, this is just the beginning."The atmosphere at the mansion was suffocating. Victor was locked away in the library, engaged in an urgent strategy meeting with his father. Meanwhile, in The Pentagon Lords WhatsApp group, Marcos, Dragunov, and the others were busy mocking him. They were convinced Victor had grown weak, blinded by his obsession with Alia.The Group Chat was Toxic:
Lord Marcos: "Victor wouldn't even let go of her hand at the grave today! The poor fool is blinded by love."
Lord Dragunov: "It looked like Victor was the one afraid of her, not the other way around. Let's finalize our plan tonight. He's distracted."
Suddenly, the group icon flashed. An incoming video call from Victor's account. The Lords scrambled to answer, expecting a stern lecture from Victor.
The Mysterious Video Call
When the camera flickered to life, the laughter died instantly. It wasn't Victor on the screen. It was Alia.
She was lounging on Victor's private leather sofa, her posture oozing a dangerous confidence. She was wearing a thin, black silk nightdress—the delicate fabric clung to her body, revealing her stunning silhouette and the curves they had only dared to imagine. Her wet hair was draped over her shoulders, and her eyes held a cold, mocking glint.
The Lords were paralyzed. They were sweating partly from the sheer, seductive power of her appearance, and partly from the terror of what this meant.
Alia: (In a low, hypnotic, and velvety voice) "What happened, Lords? Why so quiet? I was just listening to the beautiful future you all were planning for Victor and me."
Lord Marcos: (Stammering, unable to look away) "A... Alia? Where is Victor? And why are you... like that?"
Alia: (Leaning in closer to the camera, her expression turning lethal) "Victor is busy. But I thought I'd remind those of you who think my husband is weak—the woman he protects isn't just a pretty face. She is the reason the Pentagon might fall. Every word you whispered at the cathedral today... Victor and I heard every single one."
The raw power hidden behind her delicate silk attire sent a chill through their blood. They realized they weren't just looking at a beautiful woman; they were looking at their executioner.
Before ending the call, Alia whispered one final warning: "Sleep with one eye open tonight. Because for some of you, the sun might not rise tomorrow."
The Aftermath
The screen went black. In four different mansions across the city, the most powerful men in the underworld sat in terrified silence. Alia hadn't just exposed their treachery; she had shown them that she was no longer a captive. She was the Queen of Shadows. After Alia's chilling threat, the heavy silence of the group chat was shattered by a message from Lord Marcos. His arrogance and ego had turned to dust in an instant.
The message flashed on the screen:
Lord Marcos: "I'm sorry, Alia. Please... it was a mistake. We were just joking. It will never happen again. Tell Victor to forgive us."
Alia held the phone, a contemptuous smirk playing on her lips. She knew this apology didn't come from regret; it came from pure, heart-stopping terror. Her fingers danced across the screen as she typed back:
Alia: "Forgiveness? Lord Marcos, does that word even exist in the mafia dictionary? What you did wasn't a mistake; it was treason. And the price for treason isn't mercy... it's death."
Victor's Dramatic Entrance
At that exact moment, Victor finished his meeting in the library and stepped into the room. He froze at the door, stunned by the sight before him. Alia was lounging on his sofa, draped in that translucent black silk nightdress, holding his phone with the poise of a conqueror. She looked breathtaking, dangerous, and utterly captivating.
Victor walked over slowly, standing behind her like a dark shadow. His hand came down on her shoulder, his touch heavy with possessive authority. He glanced at the screen and saw Marcos's desperate "Sry" message.
Victor: (In a deep, gravelly voice) "Marcos is begging for mercy? It seems my Queen has already begun her reign."
Victor took the phone from Alia's hand and sent a voice note directly to the group. His voice was calm, yet it carried the terrifying finality of a death sentence.
Victor: "Marcos, Dragunov... my wife advised you to sleep well tonight. Take her advice. Because when we meet tomorrow morning, you won't have the luxury of words. When Alia marks a target, not even God has the power to save them."
After sending the voice note, Victor tossed the phone aside. Without a word, he swept Alia off the sofa and lifted her into his arms.
Victor: "Enough politics for one night, Alia. How about you focus on your husband now? After what you did tonight, I've fallen for you all over again."The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the synchronized sound of Victor and Alia's ragged breathing. After an intense, feverish union, they lay exhausted, their bodies slick with sweat. Victor's silver hair clung to his damp forehead, and Alia's pale skin glistened like pearls under the dim light.
The Intrusion of the Pentagon
Suddenly, Victor's phone shrieked—another video call from the Pentagon Lords. These men were so paralyzed by terror that they were desperate to check if Victor was already on his way to execute them.
Victor grabbed the phone, his face twisted in irritation. "These fools won't rest until they're dead."
On the screen, Marcos, Dragunov, Lucian, and Nikolai appeared. In a twisted irony, they were in the same state as Victor—drenched in sweat, hair disheveled, and shirts unbuttoned. The psychological weight of Victor and Alia's joint threat had left them shattered.
Lord Dragunov: (Wiping sweat from his brow) "Victor... we apologized. Please, let us see tomorrow's sunrise."
Victor: (With a mocking smirk) "Looking at your faces, it seems you're already feeling the heat of hell. Good."
At that moment, Alia stood up and walked toward the washroom, draped only in a bedsheet. As she passed the camera, a blurred glimpse of her silhouette sent a shockwave through the screen. The Lords watched in stunned silence; to them, she wasn't just a beauty—she was a raging wildfire.
From the washroom, the sound of running water drifted out. Victor looked into the lens, his voice turning ice-cold. "My wife is resting. Do not disturb our private time again. Remember, the sun won't shine the same for everyone tomorrow. Goodnight, Lords."
The Desperate Provocation
Victor had barely tossed the phone aside when it rang again. Fuming with rage, he answered, but the scene on the screen made him freeze.
The Lords had descended into a state of manic chaos. In a desperate bid to prove they were still "Masters," they turned the camera on their own wives. Lord Marcos shared a degrading, intimate live shot of his wife, who looked exhausted and broken. Dragunov and Lucian followed suit, showcasing their wives as trophies of their dominance.
Marcos: (Laughing hysterically) "What's the matter, Victor? You think you're the only one enjoying the night? Look at us! We keep our women under our boots. We aren't like you we don't put them on a pedestal!"
The Queen's Return
Victor's eyes narrowed into slits of pure disgust. At that moment, Alia walked out of the washroom, wrapped in a crisp white towel, droplets of water glistening in her hair. She stood beside Victor and looked at the screen, seeing the humiliated faces of the other wives. The Lords, seeing Alia, began shouting crude insults.
Alia took the phone from Victor's hand and looked directly into the camera.
Alia: "You think by dishonoring your wives, you prove your strength? You aren't men; you are cowards. If a Lord cannot protect the dignity of his own wife, how can he hope to protect an empire?"
She turned to Victor, resting her hand on his sweat-streaked chest, a defiant smile on her lips.
Alia: "Lords, you might rule over your wives' bodies, but Victor rules over my soul. You have slaves in your beds; Victor has a Queen. That is the difference between you and him."