Alex Volkov
At the age of nine, Frederico Grey Volkov married my mother.
He didn’t have to. He was already a powerful man — cold, brilliant, and terrifying to most people. But he took her in, and he took me in too. He gave me his last name. He raised me like I was his real son. Sent me to the best schools, gave me everything I could ever ask for. For a long time, I believed he loved me like a father should.
But sometimes… it didn’t feel real.
There was always a distance. A missing piece. My mother eventually left him after the media caught her cheating with one of his business associates. She threw away the chance to be the wife of one of the richest men in the world. Father never chased her. He never begged. He simply divorced her quietly and kept me.
He never had any real intimate r
