Victor’s POV

‎My world ended nine years ago.

‎Sometimes I still feel it....the exact moment everything split in two. Before… and after.

‎Before, I had a family. Friends. Laughter in the house.

‎It started as a simple land dispute. But it ended with my parents dead… and a third body burnt beyond recognition in the ruins of our home.

‎I remember standing there as a boy, my fists clenched so tightly my nails cut into my palms. The air smelled like ash and melted metal. Men spoke around me, voices low and cautious, but all I could hear was the roar of the fire replaying in my head.

‎Till today, no one knows who that third body belonged to.

‎I’ve spent years searching. Pulling strings. Paying people. Threatening others.

‎Nothing.

‎The body was destroyed beyond recognition....as if someone wanted it that way.

‎After my parents died, my grandfather took me in. He didn’t raise me with bedtime stories or comfort. He raised me with rules, discipline… and truth.

‎That was when I learned about the family business.

‎The Mafia.

‎I still remember the first time he said the word. I felt something inside me crack.... and something darker take its place. From that day on, I stopped being a boy and started becoming the man I am now.

‎A man with blood on his hands.

‎A man feared in rooms he hasn’t even entered yet.

‎A man who learned that mercy is expensive… and weakness gets you buried.

‎But no matter how powerful I become, one thing hasn’t changed.

‎My parents’ deaths are still a mystery.

‎And I will uncover the truth.

‎That is why I must marry Alice Smith.

‎The only girl I ever truly loved.

‎…At least, I did once.

‎Now? I’m not sure I know what love feels like anymore.

‎My life is chaos......women, deals, enemies, blood, money. Nothing stays long enough to matter.

‎Except her.

‎Alice is one of the few good memories from my childhood. One of the few things untouched by the darkness swallowing my life.

‎But everything changed the night my house burned.

‎I can still remember how I felt when I saw her lying unconscious at my gate.

‎I remember running toward her, my heartbeat slamming against my ribs. I remember dropping to my knees beside her, shaking her shoulders, calling her name. Her skin was cold. Her face streaked with soot.

‎What was she doing there?

‎That question has followed me for nine years.

‎I’ve tried to approach her many times. Tried to start the conversation. Tried to demand answers.

‎But every single time, I stop.

‎Because this isn’t a question I can ask without a plan.

‎And I never move without a plan.

‎This marriage will give me that chance.

‎It will put her close enough that she won’t be able to run from the truth.

‎

‎And yes…

‎The letter is fake.

‎My father never arranged any marriage between us.

‎No promises were written. No agreement was made.

‎I forged it.

‎Perfectly.

‎Because sometimes the only way to uncover the truth…

‎is to force fate’s hand.

‎

‎Alice’s voice drifted through the half-open door.

‎“I'm not going to marry him.”

‎I stilled in the hallway.

‎Her father’s voice came sharp and heavy. “You must. A promise is a promise.”

‎A chair scraped. Footsteps thundered.

‎The study door burst open and Alice stormed out....straight into me.

‎She hit my chest with a soft thud.

‎My hands instinctively caught her arms to steady her.

‎For a second, neither of us moved.

‎She looked up.

‎Mu breath caught.

‎Nine years… and she was still the girl who could knock the air from my lungs without trying.

‎Her fingers were still pressed against my chest. I wondered if she could feel how violently my heart was beating.

‎“Hello, Allie,” I said softly, a crooked smile forming. I added a playful wink, masking the sudden rush of nerves. “Long time.”

‎Colour flooded her cheeks instantly.

‎The sight hit me harder than i expected.

‎God… she still blushes.

‎“I am not getting married to you,” she snapped, though her voice wavered slightly.

‎I tilted my head, amused, but there was a faint ache behind my smile.

‎“Oh, my little Allie,” I murmured, the old nickname slipping out before I could stop it. “You will marry me.”

‎I watched her closely, searching her face for any sign the name still meant something to her.

‎“I will never marry you!” she shot back. Her hands clenched at her sides. “You’re promiscuous, wicked, and terrible.”

‎The words struck.

‎For a brief moment, something raw flickered in my eyes....hurt, sharp and unexpected.

‎But i swallowed it, letting a teasing grin replace it.

‎“Ah… promiscuous?” i echoed lightly, folding my arms. “What made you say that?”

‎I leaned closer, lowering my voice playfully.

‎“Have you been stalking me?”

‎Her eyes widened in outrage.

‎“That’s not.... I don’t....”

‎I smiled fully this time, and for a heartbeat she froze, clearly thrown off balance.

‎Then her expression hardened again. She shoved past me, shoulder brushing mine, and disappeared into a room down the hall. A door slammed.

‎I exhaled slowly, staring after her.

‎She still affects me.

‎I rubbed the back of my neck, forcing myself to focus, then turned and walked into the study.

‎“Mr. Smith,” i greeted respectfully.

‎Alice’s father looked up, relief softening his face. “Victor, my boy. How are you?”

‎“Fine, sir.” i stepped forward, posture straightening, voice turning serious. “I need your help.”

‎Mr. Smith frowned slightly. “What do you need, my boy?”

‎I hesitated just long enough to feel the weight of what i was about to say.

‎Then i met the older man’s eyes.

‎“I need Alice’s inheritance.”

‎Silence crashed into the room.

‎Mr. Smith’s face stiffened.

‎“What?”

‎

‎Alice’s POV

‎It had been four days since Dad dropped the bombshell about my marriage to Victor.

‎Four days… and the words still didn’t feel real.

‎I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, twisting the edge of my bedsheet between my fingers. In just one month, I would be twenty-five. Normally, my birthday was the one day of the year I looked forward to the most. Dad and Uncle always made it magical.

‎My chest tightened.

‎Uncle.

‎A dull ache settled in my throat as I turned onto my side and hugged my pillow. He had disappeared without a trace. No warning. No explanation. Just… gone. We searched everywhere. Asked everyone. Nothing.

‎I swallowed hard.

‎I hope you’re alive… wherever you are.

‎“Uncle, where are you?” I whispered into the empty room.

‎My phone buzzed loudly on the bedside table, making me jump. I wiped at my eyes before grabbing it.

‎“Hello, Evans. How’re you doing?” I tried to sound normal.

‎There was a pause.

‎“Alice… who am I to you?”

‎I frowned, sitting up. “What’s wrong? My best friend, of course.”

‎“Then why,” his voice tightened, “am I reading a magazine right now with your face and Victor Arc’s face on the front page announcing your engagement and wedding?”

‎My stomach dropped.

‎“Oh no…” I slapped a hand over my forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell Evans.”

‎“Evans, dear, I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, pacing the room now. “I was going to tell you when I had the chance. I’ve just been so busy.”

‎“Busy doing what, Alice?” His voice rose slightly. “This is the kind of news I should hear from you first. It’s your wedding. And to my ex–best friend, too. You know I know everything about you.”

‎Guilt prickled under my skin.

‎I stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, sighing. “Evans… I’ve been trying to convince Dad not to agree to the wedding.”

‎A pause.

‎“Why?”

‎I pushed off the wall, frustration bubbling up. “What do you mean why? Victor is not the boy we grew up with. He’s changed.”

‎“Really?” Evans said slowly. “How do you know that? You haven’t spoken to him in years.”

‎I hesitated, then muttered, “I follow him on social media.”

‎“And?”

‎“And I see the women he’s always with,” I snapped, my free hand clenching into a fist. “Different ladies every time. Parties. Trips. Rumors. He’s a playboy, Evans. I can’t marry a playboy.”

‎The words left my mouth, but instead of relief, my chest felt heavier.

‎Because deep down… I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince Evans…

‎...or myself.

‎I hear Evans laughing softly on the other end of the call, and I roll my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugs at my lips.

‎“You have always been in love with him, Alice. Please stop deceiving yourself,” Evans says gently. “I remember when we were little. You used to blush whenever you saw him… or when he called your name. You kept every gift, every birthday card he gave you.”

‎His voice softens.

‎“Marry him, Alice. You both deserve each other.”

‎I stop walking beside the grocery shelves and grip my phone tighter.

‎“No, we don’t deserve each other,” I mutter, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “I just told you who he is. A playboy. I’m not ready to be heartbroken again.”

‎‎“At least you didn’t deny that you still love him.”

‎A short, disbelieving laugh escapes me.

‎“Love? I was a teenager. It was a crush. Hormones, Evans. That’s all.”

‎‎Evans laughs again, warm and knowing.

‎“Well… just give him a chance. He deserves it, you know. Our parents were the ones who separated you back then. It wasn’t exactly Victor’s fault.”

‎I frown, shifting the basket on my arm.

‎“Wait… why are you speaking up for him? I thought you were my best friend. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

‎“Alice,” he says softly, “I’ve known you since we were kids. I watched you grow into this beautiful, stubborn woman. I know your heart. What you felt for Victor — and what you still feel — isn’t a crush. It’s love.

‎So my advice, my dear best friend… give him a chance. Just think about it, okay?”

‎‎I exhale slowly, my resistance weakening just a little.

‎

‎“Okay, Evans. I need to go. I’m shopping for groceries.”

‎

‎“Alright. Bye… love you.”

‎

‎“Love you too.”

‎I end the call.

‎

‎The moment the line goes dead, a strange feeling crawls over my skin — like someone is watching me.

‎

‎I turn.

‎

‎Victor stands a few steps away, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on me with that unreadable, amused expression.

‎

‎My stomach drops.

‎

‎Great. Just great.

‎

‎“Allie,” he says, voice low and smooth, “who was that on the phone?”

‎

‎I lift my chin. “None of your business.”

‎

‎He arches a brow, taking a slow step closer.

‎

‎“Young lady, you don’t speak to your husband-to-be that way.”

‎

‎My chest tightens with irritation.

‎“You are not — and will never be — my husband-to-be.”

‎

‎Victor chuckles, the sound deep and annoyingly confident.

‎

‎“My dear Allie, your father has already given me the go-ahead to start making preparations.”

‎He leans slightly closer, lowering his voice.

‎“As we speak, our wedding venue is booked.”

‎

‎“What?” My eyes widen. “But—”

‎

‎“But what?” he interrupts calmly. “I told you, you are getting married to me. Whoever you were speaking to had better get it into his thick head that he’s flirting with another man’s future wife.”

‎

‎His gaze darkens slightly.

‎“I don’t want to have to fight anyone for you, my love. You belong to me. Body. Soul. Spirit.”

‎

‎Heat rushes through me — anger first, then something far more dangerous.

‎

‎“I belong to myself,” I snap. “Booking a venue when the bride hasn’t said yes is a failure on your part, Victor.”

‎

‎“Oh, she’ll say yes,” he replies softly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Very soon. Especially after she sees my surprise.”

‎

‎My heart stumbles.

‎

‎“What surprise, Victor?”

‎

‎He only smiles wider.

‎

‎“Don’t worry, my little Allie. You’ll see it very soon.”

‎

‎I glare at him, pulse racing.

‎

‎“Don’t play games with me, Victor. I’m not one of your playthings.”

‎

‎He tilts his head, eyes glinting with mischief.

‎

‎“Oh, definitely you are.”

‎His voice drops to a near whisper.

‎“You’re my favorite plaything.”

‎

‎My breath catches. Heat floods my cheeks before I can stop it.

‎

‎I turn quickly and walk away, pretending I don’t hear his quiet, satisfied laughter behind me.

‎

‎He better not be playing games with me.

‎

‎As I push my cart forward, my thoughts whirl.

‎

‎What is he planning?

‎What could that surprise be?

‎

‎I shake my head, trying to dismiss the uneasy flutter in my chest.

‎

‎I’m not getting married to Victor.

‎I just need to find a way to convince Dad.

‎

‎…Or—

‎

‎I hesitate, fingers tightening on the cart handle.

‎

‎Should I give him a chance…

‎just like Evans advised?

‎

‎Victor’s POV

‎“Her inheritance? What for?” he asked, his brows knitting together as he leaned back in his chair.

‎I didn’t answer immediately. I let the silence stretch just long enough to make him curious. My fingers tapped once against the armrest before I spoke.

‎“As her husband-to-be, I need to know everything about my bride,” I said calmly. “Her likes, dislikes, hobbies, friends, family… properties, inheritance.”

‎I held his gaze.

‎“Everything.”

‎“Oh… well…” He cleared his throat and adjusted the files on his desk. “I can give you a list of everything she inherits at the age of twenty-five.”

‎“Mr. Smith,” I said, my tone polite but firm, “I don’t want a list. I want the papers of ownership and the proceeds for all the properties she inherits.”

‎He paused. His fingers stopped moving.

‎“Papers of ownership?” he repeated slowly, studying me as though trying to read what lay beneath my words.

‎“Hmmm.”

‎For a moment, the only sound in the room was the low hum of the air conditioner.

‎“Alright,” he finally said with a nod. “Everything will be ready on her birthday. You’re invited to the party. I plan to officially announce the engagement there.”

‎A faint smile tugged at his lips.

‎“Though I saw you already gave people a hint in that interview.”

‎I allowed a small, controlled smile.

‎“Mr. Smith, I want to marry Alice partly because of the letter… it was my late father’s dying wish.”

‎I slowed my words, choosing them carefully.

‎“But more than that, she’s a beautiful and intelligent woman. She would make a good wife.”

‎I kept my expression neutral, careful not to reveal the truth beating quietly beneath my ribs.

‎“I’m happy to hear that, my son.” His face softened, nostalgia creeping into his voice. He folded his hands together on the desk.

‎“You know… your father and I were best friends. We grew up together. We even swore we would remain brothers for life.”

‎I stayed silent, watching him.

‎“Our fathers were also best friends,” he continued, his eyes drifting somewhere far away. “They bought four plots of land together. But my father paid more, so the agreement was sixty–forty. My father would take sixty percent, your grandfather forty.”

‎He sighed, rubbing his temple as if the memory itself carried weight.

‎“That was the agreement.”

‎I leaned forward slightly.

‎“Then one day, your father insisted the sixty percent belonged to his family instead. Said my father forced your grandfather into accepting the forty.”

‎His jaw tightened.

‎“I was furious. I had evidence — documents, proof — I showed him everything. But he refused to accept it.”

‎His voice grew rougher, edged with old hurt.

‎“We cut ties after that. Years of resentment.”

‎He swallowed, his gaze dropping to the desk.

‎“Before he died, I tried to reach out… but my brother stopped me. He said your father had been telling people I was wicked. That I stole his land.”

‎A bitter laugh escaped him.

‎“I got angry again. Stayed away from your family for good.”

‎He looked back at me, searching my face.

‎“I’m still surprised he would write a letter asking me to marry my daughter to you. I thought he wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

‎I felt something twist inside my chest — not guilt, not quite anger… something heavier.

‎“Mr. Smith,” I said quietly, “this is the first time I’m hearing this story. My father hid a lot from me. The letter… was the only thing he spoke about before he died.”

‎The room felt smaller suddenly.

‎“Oh, my boy.” His voice softened with genuine regret. “I’m so sorry.”

‎I gave a small nod and forced my shoulders to relax.

‎“It’s alright, Mr. Smith,” I said.

‎“Life happened.”

‎I stood up slowly, buttoning my suit jacket.

‎“I moved on.”

‎But as I turned toward the door, I felt the old fire stirring again in my chest.

‎Moved on…

‎Not forgiven.

‎I was at the cashier counter, tapping my card lightly against the glass while the attendant packed my things, when I saw her.

‎Allie.

‎My breath stalled for half a second.

‎Ah… my beautiful little Allie.

‎Even from across the store, she pulled attention without trying. The soft tilt of her head as she listened on the phone. The way her fingers toyed absently with the strap of her bag. The slight crease between her brows when she was annoyed.

‎I’d be lying if I said her beauty wasn’t dangerous.

‎But beauty wasn’t the reason I was marrying her.

‎The land dispute between our fathers — the land that now sits in her inheritance — that was reason enough. And I always make sure my information is correct.

‎I stepped closer, slow and deliberate, my shoes barely making a sound on the polished floor.

‎She didn’t notice me.

‎“I don’t want to marry him,” she muttered into the phone, her voice tight with frustration. “He’s a playboy.”

‎A humorless laugh slipped from my throat.

‎If only she knew those women meant nothing. They were armor. In my world, feelings get you killed. So you bury them, suffocate them, pretend they never existed.

‎Marrying her isn’t just strategy.

‎It’s protection.

‎It’s answers.

‎It’s the past catching up with both of us.

‎She turned suddenly — sharp, instinctive — like she felt my eyes on her.

‎Our gazes locked.

‎Her expression hardened instantly. Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flashing with anger.

‎I let my own stare darken. I’d heard the end of that call.

‎“Love you.”

‎It better have been a woman.

‎Alice doesn’t keep many friends. Not real ones. And the idea of some man saying that to her…

‎Yeah. I didn’t like that.

‎“Allie,” I said, voice low and smooth as I stepped closer.

‎Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t step back.

‎“Who was that on the phone?”

‎She lifted her chin, defiant, eyes sharp.

‎“None of your business.”

‎I arched a brow, taking another slow step into her space.

‎“Young lady,” I said quietly, “you don’t speak to your husband-to-be that way.”

‎Her jaw tightened.

‎“You are not — and will never be — my husband-to-be.”

‎A chuckle rolled out of me, deep and calm, though something inside my chest pulled tight.

‎“My dear Allie, your father has already given me the go-ahead to start preparations.”

‎I leaned closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear.

‎“As we speak… our wedding venue is booked.”

‎“What?” Her eyes widened, genuine shock flickering across her face. “But—”

‎“But what?” I interrupted softly. “I told you. You’re getting married to me.”

‎My gaze sharpened.

‎“Whoever you were talking to had better understand he’s flirting with another man’s future wife.”

‎My voice dropped, darker now.

‎“I don’t want to fight anyone for you, my love.”

‎A pause.

‎“You belong to me. Body. Soul. Spirit.”

‎Color rushed to her cheeks. Her breath hitched, and for a split second she looked shaken — before the fire returned.

‎“I belong to myself,” she snapped. “Booking a venue when the bride hasn’t said yes is your failure, Victor.”

‎“Oh,” I murmured, a slow smile tugging at my lips, “she’ll say yes.”

‎I tilted my head slightly.

‎“Especially after she sees my surprise.”

‎Suspicion flickered across her face.

‎“What surprise, Victor?”

‎I only smiled wider.

‎“Don’t worry, my little Allie. You’ll see it soon.”

‎She glared, folding her arms like a shield.

‎“Don’t play games with me. I’m not one of your playthings.”

‎I leaned just close enough to see the tiny tremor in her breath.

‎“Oh, you definitely are,” I whispered.

‎My voice dropped even lower.

‎“You’re my favorite plaything.”

‎Her breath caught. Heat rushed to her face. She hated that I could see the effect I had on her.

‎Without another word, she turned sharply and walked away, steps quick, shoulders rigid.

‎A quiet laugh slipped from me as I watched her leave.

‎She really will be the death of me.

‎My phone vibrated in my pocket.

‎I answered without looking away from the exit she’d disappeared through.

‎“Boss, the shipment has arrived. Everything’s complete.”

‎“Good,” I said, voice instantly colder. “Take it to the warehouse. I want no mistakes.”

‎“Yes, boss.”

‎The call ended.

‎I slid the phone back into my pocket, a faint smile returning.

‎This shipment carries quite a few surprises for my bride.

‎I wonder…

‎Does she still like surprises?

‎