Pawn To Queen Claimed By Alphas Brothers Mate

Prologue

The walls of the house had always grated on the nerves with their excessive luxury, pretentious grandeur, and-let's be honest-a noticeable layer of dust.

Makar had always preferred solitude, but with age, it had begun to look less like a conscious choice and more like an illness. He could have hired at least a housekeeper, yet the only staff member left was an elderly cook who no longer had the strength to keep the place in order. After the death of his best friend, the old man had lost what little will he had left, as though he were simply waiting for this meaningless life to run its course.

The brothers knew perfectly well why their grandfather had summoned them that morning, but the first hint of something unusual came when they realized their uncle-who, like them, had every right to the inheritance-was nowhere to be seen. Only the two of them, Makar himself, and the notary were present.

"Grandfather, why did you call us here so early?" Stas asked, dropping heavily into the armchair opposite the bed. He had clearly drunk far too much the night before and was now paying the price with a brutal hangover. Stanislav knew he was not good enough, had long since accepted that his older brother would inherit everything, and might, at best, share it with their uncle. Why he himself had been summoned, he honestly didn't understand.

Vlad stopped beside his younger brother and, in his usual manner, swept the room with a stern, assessing gaze.

The old man, who had been quietly conferring with the notary, broke off and looked at his grandsons. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and his eyes closed briefly. Makar couldn't understand where he had gone wrong in raising them. Perhaps their parents would have managed better, but they had died many years ago, leaving two boys in his care. He had truly loved those rascals, yet somehow everything had slipped through his fingers. That had to change.

"You both know perfectly well why I called you here. You, still partying, Stas?" the old man said with a faint chuckle. "And you, Vlad, have turned into a soulless machine. I can't leave my inheritance to a pair like you. Business is a serious matter. Logic and intelligence alone won't take you far-you need passion."

"I have no other choice. But I hope both of you straighten yourselves out."

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Vlad stiffened, hearing the iron resolve in his grandfather's voice. He knew all too well that once the old man made up his mind, there was no changing it.

The old man snapped. "Heaven help me, what ungrateful grandsons I have. In short, do you remember my old friend Albert? His granddaughter has grown up-a real beauty..."

A loud burst of laughter rang through the room, cutting him off again. Stas struggled to compose himself and finally managed to stop.

"Grandfather, you have a very unusual idea of beauty. Nadya is anything but beautiful. She's a bespectacled little goblin, not a girl. You're condemning Vlad to a lifetime of misery."

"And why Vlad, exactly?" The old man raised an eyebrow, cleared his throat, and continued. "Here's how it will be. The inheritance will go to whichever of you marries Batalov's granddaughter. Notary, please write that down. If, within six months of my death, either Stas or Vlad fails to marry Nadezhda Batalova, everything goes to my son, Darvin Sergey."

"Have you lost your mind?" Vlad finally exploded, fully grasping the trap he had just walked into. "Uncle will destroy the business!"

"You have a chance to prevent that. For those six months, he will manage the company, and the two of you will have plenty of time to court the girl."

"What's there to court?" Stas snorted, glancing at his brother and clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Just convince her to marry and be done with it. It won't even take six months. I doubt there's a line of men eager to marry that fool."