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Aithan

One Month Earlier.

The heavy oak doors of my father’s study creak slightly as I push them open. The familiar scent of aged whiskey and leather fills the room, mingling with the faint smoke curling from his half-finished cigar. I stride in, exuding raw strength. My movements are purposeful because my father hates to see any sign of weakness. My pewter-gold eyes scan the space briefly before settling on him. Sebastian Vasilios, the Archigos, or what some might call the godfather of the Greek Elliniki, sits behind his grand mahogany desk. His expression carved in granite. He looks up as I enter, his piercing gaze meeting mine.

I lean down and kiss him on both cheeks, a show of respect ingrained in me since childhood. “ Yassou patéras ,” I greet, my voice steady.

“Aithan.” His tone is gruff, laced with unspoken weight.

I sink into the leather chair opposite him, leaning back with casual confidence. The quiet stretches between us, and my curiosity begins to bubble. My father doesn’t summon me unless it’s important. My fingers tap idly against the armrest as I tilt my head. “You called for me?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. Silence is a weapon this man wields expertly, but I’ve learned patience over the years. Finally, he exhales, setting the cigar in the ashtray with deliberate precision. “We need to talk about your future.”

The words land heavily, stirring a faint sense of unease which I quickly shove aside. I keep my expression neutral, but my curiosity sharpens. The impending conversation already feels loaded, and the look on his face tells me he is presently dealing with me as his second in command and not as his son.

Sebastian steeples his fingers, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a force that dares me to look away. “When are you planning to get married?” he asks, his voice even but underscored by a chilling authority.

I blink, momentarily thrown off by the directness of the question. Marriage? That’s the last thing on my mind. I lean forward slightly, resting my forearms on the desk. “Why the sudden interest?” I counter, keeping my tone measured.

He doesn’t flinch. “It’s not sudden. You’re thirty-seven, Aithan, and it is time to settle down.”

“I am settled.” I say through clenched teeth. "The Oikogéneia requires my attention, so I'll dedicate my efforts to the Elliniki instead."

“You’ve spent the last decade proving yourself to the organization, but it’s not enough. The council is concerned about your personal life.”

“The council can shove it up their asses,” I interject, my voice hardening. “I’ve done more for the Elliniki than anyone else. I don’t need a wife to validate my position.”

Sebastian’s gaze sharpens, his anger barely contained. He hates to be questioned. “This isn’t just about you. It’s about the future of the Elliniki. The leaders need to see stability and continuity. A family.”

I scoff, the sound cutting through the room. “Family,” I repeat bitterly, leaning back in the chair. Memories flash unbidden— and I remember the warmth. I see my late wife's laughter, my son’s tiny hands wrapped around my finger. Then their mangled body and the unbearable silence that followed.

The day of the accident plays in my mind like a haunting melody I can’t escape. I remember the phone call that shattered everything—the trembling voice of her father, the sterile coldness of the morgue, and the lifeless forms of my wife and son. I was away on a mission, playing the enforcer for the Elliniki . My absence cost them their lives.

After their deaths, I spiraled. The once-impenetrable Aithan Vasilios crumbled into a shell of himself. Nights blurred into mornings, the burn of alcohol and the haze of sleepless hours my only companions. I became reckless, inviting danger with every move. There were days I didn’t care if I lived or died. Then came the call from Leon, my cousin and closest confidant.

Leon had found the driver, a man whose drunken recklessness stole everything from me. I remember the acrid stench of fear and urine as the man pleaded for his life. My fists met flesh, breaking bones, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted him to feel every ounce of the agony I lived with daily. Hours passed before I finally granted his wish for death. His blood-stained my hands, but it didn’t wash away the grief. It marked the beginning of the man I am today—cold, unyielding, and ruthless. Vulnerability was a liability. I buried my emotions, locking them behind walls so high that not even I could scale them. Love? Family? They were weaknesses, cracks in the armor I couldn’t afford.

“You remember what happened the last time I had a family,” I say, shaking off the memory, my voice colder than I intended. “You remember how well that turned out?”

Sebastian’s face softens, but only slightly. “It’s been ten years, Aithan,” he says quietly. “You can’t keep living in the past. The organization needs you to move forward.”

I clench my jaw, the faint tremor of rage coursing through me. “You know I’ve contributed majorly to bringing this empire into what it is today,” I snap. “I don’t need their approval.”

“While you may not need their approval, you certainly need their trust,” he counters. “And that’s slipping. They see your reluctance as a weakness. And no one will follow a leader who they think is weak.”

His words strike a nerve, and I grip the armrests tightly, my knuckles turning white. “Weakness,” I echo, my voice low and dangerous. “Do they think it’s weak to make the hard decisions? To do what others won’t? To keep eliminating every danger that threatens their businesses? Are they aware of the lengths I go to keep their pockets lined?”

Sebastian’s expression doesn’t waver. “What they think matters, Aithan. Whether you like it or not, their perception influences your power. And without a successor, without stability, your position is at risk.”

I exhale sharply, my temper simmering just beneath the surface. “So that’s what this is about? Finding someone to parade around as my dutiful wife so the council can sleep better at night?”

Sebastian’s jaw tightens. “It’s about securing your future and the future of this family. You can’t delay this any longer.”

“How come you did not remarry after Mum died from her illness?” I ask bitterly.

“Because, unlike you, I was already past fifty and had an heir.” He looks straight into my eyes. “And I will not leave a feuding organization behind when I die. You, Aithan Vasilios, will perform your duty to me as your Patéras and Archigos by getting married.”

The ultimatum hangs in the air, heavy and unyielding. My chest tightens with a mix of frustration and resignation. For a moment, I say nothing, letting the weight of his words settle over me. Finally, I let out a harsh laugh, the sound bitter.

“Fine,” I say, the word dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll find a bride. Maybe Bella will do. She’s beautiful, obedient, and already well-acquainted with my bed.”

Sebastian’s expression hardens. “No. The Galanis girl isn’t an option. This isn’t just about convenience, Aithan. It’s about strategy.”

I arch a brow, my irritation flaring. “Strategy? Care to elaborate?”

“The Russians,” he says simply. “The Makarov Bratva, to be precise. An alliance with them would open doors to new markets, particularly in Eastern Europe. A marriage alliance with Makarov would ensure that.”

“A Bratva princess,” I say, my tone a mix of disbelief and disdain. “You want me to marry a Russian Mafia Princess? And burden me with liability?”

“Yes,” Sebastian says, his voice firm. “She may be a Mafia Princess, but I have heard she is also intelligent, strong-willed, and the sister of the Bratva’s new leader. This marriage would cement an alliance with them and secure your position too.”

I run a hand through my hair; the tension coiling tighter. “You’re asking me to chain myself to a spoiled, bratty princess for the sake of mafia politics?”

Sebastian doesn’t flinch. “I’m asking you to step up and do what needs to be done. You don’t have to love her, Aithan. You just have to marry her. And this will secure you and your linage rule for a long time.”

There is sense to what my father is saying. If I must marry, then I’ll make sure to milk the union for all the gains I can get.

I push to my feet; the chair scraping against the floor. My hands clench into fists at my sides as I glare at him. “I’ll marry her,” I say finally, the words burning like acid on my tongue. “But don’t expect me to play the part of a doting husband.”

Sebastian’s expression remains unreadable. “All I expect is for you to do what’s necessary.”

Without another word, I turn and stride out of the study, my mind a whirlwind of anger and frustration. The path ahead is clear, but it’s one I’m going to be walking on my terms.

That night, I sit nursing a full bottle of dark rum and allow the gate I have firmly shut for the past ten years to flood open. I lean forward, bracing my elbows on the edge of the polished oak desk in my office. My head dropping into trembling hands. My chest tightens, aching, choking with memories I’ve spent ten years burying.

They rise now, merciless and vivid. As ghosts slipping through cracks, I believed sealed forever. I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles are pale white. But the memories flood in relentlessly.

I remember her soft touch, delicate fingertips brushing my jaw as I awakened every morning, smiling into my eyes with a tenderness that whispered eternity. The scent of jasmine clinging to our sheets, to my skin, a silent promise she would always be there, warming the darkness I carried inside. A darkness only she had ever tamed.

"I love you, agapi mou. " Her voice, honeyed and gentle, like velvet sliding against my soul, would breathe against my ear. Every moment together had been colored by the purity of her love.

Eva.

My beautiful wife.

My first and only love.

My chest aches sharply, my breath catching. I've avoided thinking her name for years, pushing it far away, locking it in the darkest, untouched corners of my mind. Yet tonight it claws its way back, slicing through my resolve. But worse still is the small voice that haunts me like a relentless echo, the one I have kept desperately silent through years of anguish.

"Daddy!"

I hear it so clearly. Axel's voice was pure and joyful. Bubbling with excitement as his small footsteps thundered down the marble hallway every evening. My heart used to swell at the sound, the tension from the day's cruelty and violence instantly melting away when he threw himself into my arms, small limbs wrapping tightly around my neck.

"Daddy's home!" He would say as if that was the highlight of his whole day. It used to make me feel like I hung the very stars in the sky.

The tightness intensifies, a crushing fist squeezing my heart as the memory deepens, as Axel’s voice echoes louder. His small, warm body pressed against mine, his brown eyes sparkling, a perfect replica of his mother's. His innocent smile lighting up the room.

I used to lift him high in the air, his delighted squeals filling the house with pure, bright laughter. His arms around my neck had been my sanctuary, his unconditional love a balm against the violence and ugliness of my world.

He was my hope, my reason to be better, kinder—a man worth looking up to.

I blink my eyes open; my vision blurs, and I feel tears sliding down my cheek. I hastily brush the moisture away with the back of my hand, shame burning in my gut. Grief has made me weak.

I have not cried since I buried them.

The thought of marriage again, of allowing anyone else to touch that sacred space Eva occupied, fills me with icy dread. The very idea is a betrayal of her memory. A violation to the ghost of the family I'd once dreamed of growing old with.

I see it clearly now—the image I once cherished—me and Eva sitting on the porch of our home, silver-haired, our fingers intertwined as Axel, grown and strong, laughed with his own children, filling our home once more with the promise of joy.

That dream was shattered ten years ago. The day they were ripped from my world. The day I failed to protect them. I swallow hard, guilt slicing into me like a thousand blades. Their loss is mine to bear alone. I was the one who didn't safeguard them. Eva trusted me. Axel trusted me. I was meant to keep them safe.

Instead, I buried them. Eva’s gentle smile, and Axel’s innocent laughter, now only haunt me.

I promised myself that I would never allow that kind of vulnerability again. Never risk my heart, never let someone close enough to destroy me so completely. Grief like that nearly destroyed me once—I'm certain it would succeed the next time.

I lift my head, staring around the dark office, seeing nothing but emptiness and shadows. It feels familiar. It feels safe.

A marriage arranged by my father will be nothing but a business transaction. A cold, calculated move to strengthen alliances. A woman I will never love. One who cannot hurt me, cannot penetrate the fortress I've built around my heart.

I straighten, composing myself, shutting the door firmly on memories that do nothing but torment me. The past is a weakness I can't afford.

But as I try to push away the visions, one thought pierces through me like a knife:

Am I betraying Eva by taking another wife—even one I do not love?

I shake my head, refusing to entertain it. Eva would understand. Eva would know this isn't love—it's business. It is duty. Nothing more. She would know my heart died the day she did.

The resolve hardens inside me, a wall of ice forming around the old wounds. Pain recedes, buried once more beneath the armor I carefully forge each day.

I rise slowly, gathering my composure, forcing every memory, every whispered echo, down to the darkest recess of my soul.

It is safer that way.

I straighten my tie, smoothing down my suit jacket, the mask of ruthless composure slipping firmly back into place. When I walk out of this office, I will be the Aithan Vasilios the world expects—powerful, cold, and in control. Untouched by grief, unmoved by memories.

But even as I walk to the door, each step heavy with silent grief, an ache pulses deep inside.

For a brief, fleeting second, I wish I could see them just one more time.

Eva.

Axel.

The family I loved.

The family I lost.

And as I push open the door and step out into the cold hallway, I vow once more to never again allow myself to feel the kind of love that could devastate me.

The cost is simply too great.

It nearly destroyed me once.

I will never risk that again.