‎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?

‎

‎Chapter 5 edited

‎Alice’s POV

‎I was halfway through reviewing a contract when my office door burst open, slamming against the wall.

‎I flinched, my pen slipping from my fingers.

‎“Alice Smith,” a sharp female voice rang out, dripping with mock amusement. “You really do have some guts.”

‎A tall blonde woman strode into my office like she owned it. My secretary hurried in behind her, breathless.

‎“Ma’am, I tried to stop her...."

‎“It’s fine,” I said, even though my heart was already pounding. “You can go back to work.”

‎The door clicked shut, leaving the stranger and me alone.

‎I leaned back slowly, forcing calm into my posture.

‎“Good day. And who are you?”

‎She folded her arms, her gaze sweeping over me with open contempt.

‎“You don’t need to know me. Just stay away from my man.”

‎Confusion flickered through me. “What man? I’m not with anybody’s man.”

‎She laughed....loud, mocking, certain.

‎“You think you can fool me?”

‎Something about the certainty in her voice made my chest tighten. Still, irritation rose to the surface first.

‎“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Explain yourself, or I’ll call security. You can’t barge into my office and start throwing accusations. You’re embarrassing yourself… and you’re embarrassing me. And I hate to be embarrassed.”

‎She smiled wider, like she was enjoying this.

‎“Alice,” she said, her tone dropping into a warning, “stay away from my man. Consider this your only warning.”

‎Then she walked out and slammed the door.

‎The sound echoed in the room long after she left.

‎Silence pressed in.

‎I stared at the door, my jaw tight.

‎“What nerve,” I muttered.

‎“What audacity.”

‎But the anger didn’t sit cleanly in my chest.

‎It tangled with something else.

‎Something heavier.

‎I exhaled slowly and pressed my fingers to my temple.

‎Why did that feel so personal?

‎Why did it sting?

‎Her face lingered in my mind.

‎Familiar.

‎Too familiar.

‎I leaned forward, frowning.

‎“No… it can’t be.”

‎Then it clicked.

‎My eyes widened.

‎“Amelia Coke. The celebrity actress.”

‎I let out a disbelieving laugh, but it sounded hollow even to my own ears.

‎“No way. Her man? What would I be doing with her man?”

‎Yet unease crawled under my skin.

‎My hand moved to my phone almost on its own. I opened social media and scrolled.

‎Then I froze.

‎There it was.

‎A picture of Amelia and Victor.

‎They stood close, smiling at each other like they shared something private… something real.

‎My stomach twisted.

‎For a moment, I just stared.

‎A strange ache spread through my

‎chest...sharp and unwelcome.

‎Of course Victor had women.

‎I knew that.

‎Everyone knew that.

‎So why did seeing it… hurt?

‎I swallowed hard.

‎Why did it feel like I had just been humiliated over something I didn’t even choose?

‎Why did it feel like I had been dragged into a drama I never asked for?

‎Why did it feel like he had allowed this to happen to me?

‎“Oh no,” I whispered.

‎Understanding settled in slowly.

‎“Victor did this.”

‎My grip tightened on the phone.

‎“Victor caused me this embarrassment.”

‎But beneath the anger was something softer.

‎Something I didn’t want to name.

‎A quiet sting.

‎A bruised pride.

‎And, annoyingly… a flicker of disappointment.

‎I scoffed at myself and quickly shoved the feeling down.

‎Why should I care?

‎He wasn’t mine.

‎I didn’t even want this marriage.

‎Still… being publicly mistaken for the other woman didn’t feel good.

‎Not at all.

‎I locked my phone and leaned back, forcing my expression into something cool, controlled.

‎Slowly… a smile spread across my face.

‎Not a happy one.

‎A strategic one.

‎“Well,” I murmured, folding my hands on the desk, “I just might have found exactly what I need to change my father’s mind about this whole marriage.”

‎

‎I walked through the quiet house, my heart heavier with every step, until I found Dad in his study. Papers were spread across his desk, his glasses low on his nose as always.

‎“Hi, Dad.”

‎He looked up immediately, his face softening.

‎“How are you, my little pod?”

‎Despite everything, I smiled faintly at the nickname. It always made me feel five years old again.

‎“I was fine this morning,” I said, closing the door behind me, “but I’m not so sure now.”

‎His brows knitted together as he leaned back in his chair.

‎“What happened?”

‎I hesitated, rubbing my palms together.

‎“Dad… you won’t believe who came to my office today.”

‎“Who?”

‎“Amelia Coke. The celebrity actress.”

‎Recognition flashed across his face and he nodded.

‎“Oh, I know her. You made me watch some of her movies.” He gave a small amused huff. “Well, what did she want?”

‎I swallowed.

‎“She came to warn me to leave her man.”

‎Dad straightened slowly.

‎“Which man is she talking about?”

‎I stared at him, searching his face.

‎“Dad… who do you think she’s talking about?”

‎“I don’t know, Alice. You tell me.”

‎I exhaled shakily and pulled out my phone.

‎“Well… I asked her, but she refused to explain. She was so upset. She just stormed out of my office.”

‎My fingers trembled slightly as I unlocked the screen.

‎“Then I remembered something. I once stumbled on a picture while scrolling through social media. I saved it.”

‎I stepped closer and handed him the phone.

‎“Let me show you.”

‎“Okay.”

‎He adjusted his glasses and looked down. The photo showed Victor and Amelia standing close, smiling at each other like they shared some private joke.

‎“Dad…” My voice came out softer now. “Don’t they look so happy together?”

‎He handed the phone back slowly, confusion lining his face.

‎“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Alice.”

‎I felt my chest tighten.

‎“All I’m saying is… Victor and Amelia look happy together. So I don’t understand why Victor is so determined to marry me.”

‎Dad’s expression hardened slightly, the warmth leaving his eyes.

‎“Alice, we’ve already talked about this. Victor wants to honour his father’s last wish, and so do I.” His voice turned firm. “Besides, the marriage is already a done deal.”

‎A cold wave ran through me.

‎“Dad… what do you mean?”

‎“I mean,” he said, folding his hands on the desk, “I already gave Victor the go-ahead to start preparations.”

‎My breath caught.

‎“He even asked about your inheritance,” Dad continued, as if discussing something ordinary. “And I plan on handing everything over to him. He’s going to be your husband soon.”

‎“Dad, no!” I stepped forward quickly, panic rising in my throat. “Don’t give my inheritance to him. I think… I think that’s what he truly wants.”

‎He tilted his head, studying me.

‎“Really?”

‎“Yes, Dad.” My voice shook now. “Think about it. Why rush the marriage? Why ask about my inheritance already?”

‎Dad’s face closed off completely.

‎“Alice,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument, “there’s nothing to think about. You are marrying Victor. And that is final.”

‎The words landed like a door slamming shut.

‎I stood there, frozen, my fingers tightening around my phone as a knot formed in my chest.

‎

‎After talking to my father and realizing his decision wasn’t going to change, frustration burned low in my chest like trapped smoke.

‎That left only one person.

‎Victor.

‎I stared at my phone for a long moment, my thumb hovering over his name. Calling him felt like stepping into a cage and locking it myself.

‎But I pressed dial anyway.

‎He answered almost immediately.

‎“Hello, Victor. Alice speaking,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.

‎A soft hum came from the other end, slow and knowing.

‎“Hmmm… my little Allie.”

‎The nickname slid over me like warm poison. My cheeks heated instantly, and I hated that reaction.

‎“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, gripping the phone tighter. “Anyways, we need to talk. Let’s meet at Fine Diner Restaurant near my place. Five p.m.”

‎Silence.

‎Not empty silence. The kind that feels like someone is studying you.

‎Then he spoke again, voice lower now.

‎“Little Allie… are you asking me out on a date?”

‎My jaw tightened. “No. Not a date. A talk, Victor. We need to talk.”

‎“At a dinner place,” he repeated, amusement curling in his tone. “You always did like dramatic settings.”

‎I exhaled sharply. “Victor....."

‎“Alright,” he cut in smoothly. “Five p.m.”

‎Relief barely had time to touch me before he added, softer… almost possessive:

‎“And little Allie… wear yellow.”

‎I frowned. “What....”

‎“You’ve always looked good in yellow,” he continued, voice dipping into something darker. “Soft. Bright. Easy to spot in a crowd.”

‎A chill ran down my spine.

‎Easy to spot.

‎Before I could respond, the line clicked dead.

‎I lowered the phone slowly, my heartbeat louder than the quiet room around me.

‎This is going to be harder than I thought.

‎You’ve always looked good in yellow.

‎The words replayed in my head, tangled between warmth and warning. Butterflies stirred in my stomach, but they weren’t gentle anymore. They felt sharp. Dangerous.

‎Why does he remember things like that?

‎I pressed a hand to my stomach, annoyed at my own reaction.

‎This is not how I’m supposed to feel.

‎Victor isn’t just a man from my past anymore.

‎He’s calculated. Controlled. And far too confident for someone walking into a forced marriage.

‎Which means he wants something.

‎And I need to know what it is.

‎Only then can I find leverage.

‎I refuse to enter this marriage blindly.

‎I need weapons.

‎Not knives. Not guns.

‎Secrets. Weaknesses. Truth.

‎Something that can shake Victor the way he keeps unsettling me.

‎But how do I find those weapons?

‎My eyes dropped back to my phone.

‎Maybe… I don’t start by fighting him.

‎Maybe I start by letting him think I’m harmless.

‎And then I watch.

‎