Story cover for His Final Devotion by AfiaOveis
His Final Devotion
  • WpView
    Reads 29
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 11
  • WpHistory
    Time 27m
  • WpView
    Reads 29
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 11
  • WpHistory
    Time 27m
Complete, First published Mar 07, 2025
In the grand halls of old-money England, where wealth masks decay and secrets linger behind gilded walls, Lilian lives a life of quiet suffering-unnoticed, unprotected. Until Lucien sees her.

Dark, enigmatic, and dangerously alluring, Lucien is drawn to her with an obsession that borders on devotion. He watches from the shadows, eliminating anyone who dares to harm her, leaving behind a trail of brutal, unspeakable deaths. To the world, he is a monster. To her, he is a nightmare she cannot escape.

But obsession has a price. As blood stains the path he carves for her, Lilian is forced to confront the terrifying truth-about him, about herself, about the love that should not exist. And just when she begins to understand him, fate rips them apart.

Yet some love stories do not end in tragedy. Some begin with it.

A haunting tale of passion, madness, and the thin line between love and destruction, His Final Devotion will pull you into a world where love is as brutal as murder, and the dead never truly leave.
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"You told them you love me ,huh?" He asks with a raised eyebrows, jaw hardened and eyes narrowed at the shy girl he has hated all his life. She was afraid of his tone,he didn't looked happy with her confession. Was her love going to be unrequited one? "I fuck*** asked you something Ezra! Answer me!" His tone made her gulp,his grip on her arm made her flinch in fear. "Yes" She finally answered looking into his emotionless eyes. Smirking he laughed at her confession,not believing her. "Ezra,do you even know what love is,Oh I almost forgot you are an Orphan,how would you know?" His words were sharp as knife, piercing her healed wounds. She fisted her hands, trying to control her tears. He sighed in frustration running his hand through his hair. "Now mom will not stop till she has made you her daughter in law! Fu**! Why you!" He said ,pacing the room . Oblivion to the tears ,she tried her best to hide. He didn't love her. He never did, she was a fool to even think that he for once did. Hate is all he had for her and those who said hate is the beginning of love,were fools mocking her right now. Gathering the little pride left in her she answers back in a quivering voice. "Yes,I love you. But I don't want anything from you." She says and he stares.Confused at her weird confession. Who says that ? "Nothing you say? Are you playing some brain games girl?" She lowers her eyes and leaves but not before whispering the words that made him feel something after a very long time. "Love is not something to learn ,but to feel Aaron. And I know what I feel. You may name it infatuation and lust,but I proudly call it my selfless love" ....................................................................
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An amorous tale which is not one of grand romantic gestures or picture-perfect moments. It was woven through time, stitched together with silent promises, unspoken feelings, and an unbreakable bond that endured separation, pain and the weight of the past. A girl, who is a war journalist, had spent years witnessing the horror of battlefield, carrying the weight of lost lives and shattered dreams. The war in zahran had taken more from her than she could ever put into words - her peace, her friends and a part of herself she feared she could never reclaim. When she returned, broken and distant, she had one instinct - to run. An she did. Leaving behind him, the only constant she had ever know, without a single goodbye. He searched for her, never giving up, never forgetting. The six years of her absence had changed him too. One night, she returned, but wasn't the same. She carried nightmares in her eyes and scars on her soul. He never once asked her why she left- he just chose to stay. He let his presence speak louder than words, offering her the patience, the space and the quiet love. Their love wasn't rushed. It wasn't dramatic. It was real - formed in the depths of understanding, in the warmth of silent support, in small things that meant everything. It was love that had endured war, separation and time. And in the end, it was love that found it's way back home. Because love like theirs wasn't meant to be lost - it was meant to be fought for.