Chapter 1 — The Vasilievs
The sea was calm—too calm, perhaps. But no one dared question the stillness surrounding the Vasiliev Sovereign Island. The waters, it seemed, had learned to obey them. The island was invisible on maps, erased from every digital trace, and its coordinates were known only to those who were allowed to know.
But the world feared the name Vasiliev.
Legends wrapped in silk and blood, whispered in boardrooms and war rooms alike. Their power didn't need to be flaunted; it existed in silence, in subtlety, in the unspoken understanding that no one crossed a Vasiliev and lived to see the next sunrise.
Inside the heart of their fortress, behind walls taller than most governments and smarter than most men, the Vasilievs were simply… family.
Ava Vasiliev, the matriarch—revered, feared, unstoppable—hummed softly as she brushed her long, black hair in front of a massive mirror. Morning light filtered through the balcony's sheer curtains, bathing her in gold. At twenty, she'd given birth to her only daughter, and now, seventeen years later, she looked ageless. The power she radiated was more than just economic or political—it was elemental.
She was the storm and the calm.
Adriano Vasiliev, her husband, stood behind her, arms folded as he watched her through the mirror. The third most powerful man in the world—at least according to those who tried to measure such things—was currently sulking.
"You didn't even kiss me good morning," he muttered.
Ava chuckled without pausing in her movements. "I kissed our daughter. You were still sleeping."
"Betrayal," he deadpanned. "Emotional treason. First thing in the morning, and I'm already abandoned."
"You weren't abandoned," came a soft, icy voice from the doorway.
Seraphine Steele Vasiliev—known to the world only as Seraphine, but to her family as Eva—stood, her presence effortless and regal. At eighteen, she was already a woman carved from ruthless perfection. Dangerous beauty, refined intelligence, and a silent power that could crack bones with a glance.
But right now, her presence only earned a dramatic sigh from her father.
"There she is," Adriano said mournfully. "The rival who stole my wife's affection."
Seraphine raised an eyebrow. "You sound jealous, Papa."
"Because I am," he said, his voice unapologetically playful. "First Ava used to look at me like that. Now it's all 'Eva this' and 'Eva that.' I'm invisible in my own marriage."
Ava rolled her eyes fondly. "You're such a child sometimes."
"Thank God we only had one," Adriano said, placing a hand over his heart in mock distress. "If we had more, I'd have to compete with an entire army of mini-you's. I'd be outnumbered."
Seraphine let out a rare laugh—a soft, real sound, one no one outside the island had ever heard. To the world, she was cold, dominating, ruthless, a silent force. But here, she was simply Eva. Beloved daughter.
"I didn't steal her, you know," she said calmly, sitting on the edge of the chaise near her mother. "She gave herself to me willingly."
"She's mine," Adriano pouted.
"She's ours," Seraphine corrected.
Ava smiled at both of them in the mirror. "I belong to no one. But I love both of you equally… maybe."
Adriano narrowed his eyes. "Equally??"
"I said what I said."
The banter continued—light and teasing, wrapped in an intimacy only they could understand. This wasn't the kind of love you saw on screens. It was deeper—unshakable. Built on devotion, understanding, and fierce loyalty.
The kind with no cracks.
No one outside the family ever witnessed these moments. No one dared to imagine that the cold, merciless Seraphine could lean into her mother's touch, or that Ava—the world's most powerful woman—would soften at the sight of her daughter's smile. Or that Adriano, whose name made nations pause, would look at his wife as if he were still twenty-one and hopelessly in love.
Seraphine had grown up wrapped in that love. Not coddled. Never spoiled. But cherished.
They didn't teach her cruelty. They taught her survival.
They didn't raise her to be kind. They raised her to be invincible.
And she was.
There were no enemies to the Vasiliev family. Not because they didn't exist—but because no enemy lasted longer than a day. The moment someone dared cross them, they were erased. Disappeared. Quietly. Efficiently.
No mess. No noise. Just gone.
Seraphine had never known fear. Not real fear. The kind that makes your bones cold. From the moment she was born, she knew the world couldn't touch her. And she didn't crave love from the world. She had all she needed right here.
"Do you have meetings today?" Ava asked, running her fingers through Seraphine's long hair.
"Two. Both pointless."
"Cancel them," Adriano suggested. "Let's have breakfast together. It's a rare day without chaos."
Seraphine nodded once. She never disobeyed them. Not because she couldn't—but because she didn't want to. Her loyalty was bone-deep. Her parents were her compass, her shelter, her guideposts in a world she had already conquered.
Power didn't need to be discussed in the Vasiliev home. It was in the air they breathed. In the silence between words. In the way the world watched them from afar, praying never to catch their attention.
But here, on their hidden island, in the heart of their ivory palace, power was just background noise.
Here, there was only family.
And love.
And a man dramatically fighting his only child for his wife's attention.