No flowers for the dead - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
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The first time she met him, she was six and he was covered in blood.
Not his own—his brother’s, apparently—but it didn’t matter. He stood at the edge of the playground, fists clenched, a split lip and a look in his eyes that made her young heart skip. Not fear. Not pity. Just curiosity.
“You’re bleeding,” she’d said softly.
He looked at her. Really looked. As if no one had ever bothered to point out the obvious without flinching.
“And you’re not scared.”
“I’m not stupid either,” she added, folding her arms, her little face proud. “But if you sit too long, your cut will get infected.”
He laughed—a sharp, disbelieving sound—and sat beside her on the swing anyway. From that moment on, Elias and Alina were tethered by something neither of their families approved of and neither of them understood. What began with scraped knees and shared secrets under the oak trees of the royal estate eventually grew into quiet touches behind closed doors, stolen glances across dining halls, and an entire empire no one saw coming.
Years later, the scandal of their connection still hadn’t faded—only grown more dangerous. He was Elias Vale, heir to the Vale fortune and its cold-blooded business dynasty. Son of a Duke. Trained in ruthless negotiations and expected to marry a woman with wealth in her name and frost in her smile.
Alina had none of those things.
She came from nothing but decency. A housekeeper’s daughter, raised in the servants’ quarters behind the Vale family estate. She was soft-spoken, warm-hearted, and infuriatingly principled—everything Elias had never been allowed to be.
But tonight wasn’t about memories. Tonight was about the present—and the war brewing beneath it.
Alina stood on the balcony of the penthouse Elias had gifted her, the city lights of Geneva glittering beneath her. The glass doors behind her hummed as she heard his low voice on a call, sharp and quick in another language. Deals. Always deals.
She pulled the silk robe tighter around herself and turned as he stepped out to join her, the weight of his presence washing over her like a tide. Elias wore power the way others wore coats—tailored, heavy, and effortless. Tonight, it clung to him in the form of a black shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled, the scar above his lip barely visible under the golden lights.
“You’re cold,” he said, placing a hand at the small of her back.
“No. Just—thinking.”
“Don’t.” His hand skimmed higher, dangerously slow. “Nothing good ever comes from that.”
She smiled faintly, but didn’t move away. “They’re talking again, aren’t they? Your family. About the engagement they want to announce.”
He didn’t deny it.
Instead, he looked at her like she was the only thing holding him to the earth. “My father thinks I’ll do it.”
“And will you?” Her voice was quiet, almost childlike.
He didn’t answer right away.
Then, “I’d burn the whole world first.”
Her heart ached even as her breath caught. She wanted to believe him. She did believe him. But belief was different from control, and Elias had spent his whole life trying to wrest control from a family that forged him in ice and expectation.
And yet, when he kissed her—slowly, like she was the only decision he’d ever made for himself—she let him lead her inside. The heat between them had always felt dangerous. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just… inevitable.
He undressed her with reverence. Touched her like he was carving her into memory. And when she whispered his name in the dark, it wasn’t a plea—it was a promise. That no matter what the world said, what it took from them, she would remember him exactly like this: trembling, defiant, and hers.
But even as they moved together in breathless rhythm, a part of her already knew—
The world wasn’t going to let them keep this.
And it never had.
Not his own—his brother’s, apparently—but it didn’t matter. He stood at the edge of the playground, fists clenched, a split lip and a look in his eyes that made her young heart skip. Not fear. Not pity. Just curiosity.
“You’re bleeding,” she’d said softly.
He looked at her. Really looked. As if no one had ever bothered to point out the obvious without flinching.
“And you’re not scared.”
“I’m not stupid either,” she added, folding her arms, her little face proud. “But if you sit too long, your cut will get infected.”
He laughed—a sharp, disbelieving sound—and sat beside her on the swing anyway. From that moment on, Elias and Alina were tethered by something neither of their families approved of and neither of them understood. What began with scraped knees and shared secrets under the oak trees of the royal estate eventually grew into quiet touches behind closed doors, stolen glances across dining halls, and an entire empire no one saw coming.
Years later, the scandal of their connection still hadn’t faded—only grown more dangerous. He was Elias Vale, heir to the Vale fortune and its cold-blooded business dynasty. Son of a Duke. Trained in ruthless negotiations and expected to marry a woman with wealth in her name and frost in her smile.
Alina had none of those things.
She came from nothing but decency. A housekeeper’s daughter, raised in the servants’ quarters behind the Vale family estate. She was soft-spoken, warm-hearted, and infuriatingly principled—everything Elias had never been allowed to be.
But tonight wasn’t about memories. Tonight was about the present—and the war brewing beneath it.
Alina stood on the balcony of the penthouse Elias had gifted her, the city lights of Geneva glittering beneath her. The glass doors behind her hummed as she heard his low voice on a call, sharp and quick in another language. Deals. Always deals.
She pulled the silk robe tighter around herself and turned as he stepped out to join her, the weight of his presence washing over her like a tide. Elias wore power the way others wore coats—tailored, heavy, and effortless. Tonight, it clung to him in the form of a black shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled, the scar above his lip barely visible under the golden lights.
“You’re cold,” he said, placing a hand at the small of her back.
“No. Just—thinking.”
“Don’t.” His hand skimmed higher, dangerously slow. “Nothing good ever comes from that.”
She smiled faintly, but didn’t move away. “They’re talking again, aren’t they? Your family. About the engagement they want to announce.”
He didn’t deny it.
Instead, he looked at her like she was the only thing holding him to the earth. “My father thinks I’ll do it.”
“And will you?” Her voice was quiet, almost childlike.
He didn’t answer right away.
Then, “I’d burn the whole world first.”
Her heart ached even as her breath caught. She wanted to believe him. She did believe him. But belief was different from control, and Elias had spent his whole life trying to wrest control from a family that forged him in ice and expectation.
And yet, when he kissed her—slowly, like she was the only decision he’d ever made for himself—she let him lead her inside. The heat between them had always felt dangerous. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just… inevitable.
He undressed her with reverence. Touched her like he was carving her into memory. And when she whispered his name in the dark, it wasn’t a plea—it was a promise. That no matter what the world said, what it took from them, she would remember him exactly like this: trembling, defiant, and hers.
But even as they moved together in breathless rhythm, a part of her already knew—
The world wasn’t going to let them keep this.
And it never had.
End of No flowers for the dead Chapter 1. Continue reading Chapter 2 or return to No flowers for the dead book page.