Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Vivian was aware of the type of business being discussed-it undoubtedly had something to do with the Bratva’s assault. However, as a girl, she was not entitled to partake in the conversation.

Vivian sighed, spending over an hour chatting with her mother before preparing to head back to her room.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

Her room lay at the other end of the hallway, which meant she had to pass by the study…

Vivian lightened her steps, slowly approaching the study.

Suddenly, she heard a noise from the living room downstairs. Peering from the staircase, she saw Vilem, looking irritated, kicking a chair out of his way with neither the manners nor the composure befitting a gentleman.

Vilem was out of his room?

“Vilem, what’s wrong?” Vivian asked with concern.

Vilem wasn’t inherently cold or brutish. He was handsome and tall, exceedingly popular among the girls, and Vivian often found herself bombarded with questions about him from her classmates.

Vilem had his moments of carefulness and tenderness, especially with Vivian, displaying great patience and kindness.

Of course, this was not to say Joseph was not good; he was more like their father-tall, composed, and rather detached. Joseph had been carefully groomed by their father since childhood and had earned his approval at the age of thirteen, becoming the chosen successor.

Although their father appreciated Vilem, there were also disappointments. He believed Vilem fell short compared to Joseph. This was a point of contention for Vilem, who always seemed ready to argue with their father.

Vivian exhaled, “Don’t always argue with father.”

Vilem turned to her, surprised, “You’re eavesdropping again?”

Vivian felt a pang of guilt, “I was just passing by.”

“Who would believe that?” Vilem bluntly dismissed her excuse, his eyes dimming, “I have to stay.”

“What?” Vivian’s eyes widened, “Stay where?”

Vilem rubbed his face harshly, his irritation palpable, “Houston.”

Vivian was stunned.

Was this how their father planned to assist the Hargrave family? By leaving Vilem behind?

Vivian knew that her father would not just leave Vilem; Los Angeles would provide ample elite support to help Hargrave through this crisis. Vilem was just one among many.

But Vivian understood this was not what Vilem wanted. He yearned for his father’s approval, but not at the cost of becoming a Made Man, fighting and killing.

Like Vivian, Vilem lacked freedom.

“But you…”

“This is father’s command,” Vilem said, “No one can defy father’s orders.” Despite his reluctance to stay, to witness the carnage, to kill, he had to model himself after their father and brother, learning to pick up a gun.

Because he was Vilem Jones, obliged to assist his father in defending the interests of the Jones family.

“You should go back to bed, Vivian.” Vilem ushered Vivian back to her room, then returned to the study. The father and Joseph were still discussing matters. This time, however, they mentioned Vivian.

Vilem froze in place, in disbelief, as Vivian’s name fell from their cold lips.

What were they saying? Why couldn’t he understand?

Vilem pressed his temples, suppressing the rage within, biting back, “That’s Vivian, father!”

The father looked at him, “Because she is Vivian, she is qualified to do this.”

“Vivian won’t like it,” Vilem countered, “You’re sending her away like a gift to a man she doesn’t even know. She’ll go mad.”

“Vilem!” the father’s gaze was a warning, stern and fierce, “Vivian is the daughter of a Capo. The Jones family has blessed her with nobility and wealth; she must pay with her purity and freedom. It’s her duty!”

“That’s a duty you’re forcing on her!” Vilem argued, “She should have the right to choose.”

“Your rights are granted by me. As with you, you speak because I allow you to speak. Vilem, know your place. Before me, you have no right to choose.”

The father’s gaze held the weight of countless disappointments, “Vilem, you indeed fall far short of Joseph. He can see the situation clearly and knows what’s best for the Jones family.”

“The alliance between the Jones and Hargrave families will be unbreakable. Vilem, stop trying to provoke me. It’s not in your best interest.”

Vilem was driven out of the study, frustration boiling over as he kicked the doorframe. Vivian’s white dress hem did not escape his notice.

“V”Vivian!” he exclaimed, the anger he had contained now finding no outlet, his eyes bloodshot, “Didn’t I tell you to go to sleep?”

Vilem caught Vivian’s hand, pushing her back into the room, and with a click, the lock fell into place, eliminating any chance for Vivian to eavesdrop again.

Vivian buried herself in her fluffy duvet, the perfume scent a bit too strong, leaving her feeling light-headed.

She hadn’t overheard much, but Vilem’s rage unsettled her.

What exactly had her father and brothers discussed in the study? Did it concern her?

The next day, Vivian was awoken by sunlight sneaking into her room-she had forgotten to draw the curtains. Worse yet, her alarm hadn’t gone off, and the time to leave was drawing near. There was no time to dwell on Vilem’s grim expression from the night before. After a quick wash and dressing in her black dress, she found her door surprisingly unlocked. Had Vilem cooled off? At least he didn’t seem to be holding a grudge about her eavesdropping last night.

Relieved, Vivian picked up her skirt, ready to go downstairs, when she saw Joseph exiting their parents’ room.

Cries seeped through the open door, causing her to pause.

“Why is mother crying?” Vivian wondered. Her mother, Tasneem, was a gentle and kind woman, but Vivian often thought she was too meek and easily brought to tears, which could provoke their father’s anger.

Joseph didn’t answer, perhaps finding the question foolish, or maybe the crying itself. He always seemed so detached, so proud.

Vivian disliked this about Joseph but felt powerless to change anything. She had intended to follow him downstairs for a delicious breakfast-egg and bacon sandwiches with a cup of rich coffee, her favorite combination.

But her mother’s sobbing lingered in her ears, conjuring the image of Vilem’s angry face from the night before.

Was it because of her?

She edged closer to her parents’ room, her mother’s crying becoming clearer.

“Why must it be so cruel,” her mother wept, “She won’t agree to this.”

“She will consent. It’s an inescapable duty,” her father’s voice came through the door, “She can’t fight like her brothers, so she must fulfill her duty in this manner. She still has value, Tasneem, you should be proud of her.”

“No, no…” her mother still clung to hope, “What if, what if he refuses?”

“There are no ifs,” her father stated firmly, “No man would pass up the chance to strengthen his power, he needs it to maintain his rule.”

“But…”