Father-in-law Tension

POV: VIVIENNE VANCE

I sit across from Gideon in the spacious back seat of our luxury vehicle, watching the city landscape blur past the dark tinted windows. I tap my manicured nails against the sleek screen of my phone, silently reviewing the audio file I just finished analyzing. A confident, girlish smirk plays on my lips as I look over at my imposing husband.

"The call between them went very well," I say, breaking the heavy silence filling the car.

Gideon doesn't even bother to glance up from his tablet. He just scrolls, his thick jaw locked in that perpetual line of grim focus. As usual, he says nothing, preferring to concentrate on whatever business emails demand his attention. He rarely cares for the intricate details of my methods, only the final results. But right now, I need him to fully understand the brilliance of my maneuvering.

"He genuinely believes he is talking to Valerie," I continue, leaning forward slightly to catch his eye. "Listening to the recording, it became so painfully clear to me how much he loved that girl. The softness in his voice... it was remarkable. But putting that aside, after carefully listening to their intimate conversations, it becomes increasingly clear that despite the deception, Declan and Celeste could actually make a perfect match."

That finally earns me a sharp glance. Gideon lowers his tablet, his dark eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare. "You spied on their call?"

I let out a soft, unapologetic laugh. "What? I had to make sure neither of them would say anything that might ruin my entire plan," I explain, firmly justifying my extreme actions to my husband. I openly confess exactly why I illegally bugged my future daughter-in-law's phone without a shred of guilt. "It was an essential precaution, Gideon. It is supposed to help me intervene between their calls if the conversation suddenly veers into dangerous territory. Declan is a brilliant man, and if she slips up and reveals her true identity before the wedding day, everything falls apart. But hearing them interact just now... they have an undeniable chemistry."

"Whatever, Vivienne," he mutters gruffly, turning his gaze away as the vehicle begins to slow down. "Just get this done and over with."

The car glides to a smooth stop outside the Hayeses' brand-new house. It is a stunning, sprawling property, a massive and noticeable step up from their previous living situation, fully funded by the Vance family accounts. Gideon had insisted on coming today. He wanted to see the specific girl Declan would be getting married to in person before the ceremony, so he made me drop my afternoon appointments and put aside all I was doing to accompany him.

We alight from the car and make our way up the paved walkway toward the entrance. I gesture subtly to the men in dark suits trailing behind us. I personally ask the security guards to stay behind near the vehicles so we wouldn't make the Hayeses feel unnecessarily intimidated by our arrival.

Before I can even press the doorbell, the front door swings open. Gareth stands there, his eyes widening in sheer panic the second he recognizes the towering, terrifying figure standing beside me. As a man suddenly facing a giant of the business world, he visibly shrinks.

"Mr. and Mrs. Vance," Gareth stammers, quickly stepping back to usher us inside. "I'm so sorry for this... I didn't know you were here. Please, come in." He nervously rubs his hands together, doing his possible best to acknowledge my husband with profound respect. "Can I offer you something to drink? Water, perhaps?"

Gideon ignores the polite pleasantries, his massive frame dominating the entryway. He stares down at the trembling man. "Your daughter," he states coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Where is she? I have things to do."

"I am here! I'm right here!"

A bright, cheerful voice echoes down the hallway, and Celeste hurries out to greet us. She practically bounds into the living room, her face glowing beautifully. The lingering anxiety and heavy dread from her earlier days seem to have completely vanished, replaced by a radiant energy that I know directly stems from her recent phone conversation with my son.

"Mom Vivienne!" she shrieks, rushing forward with uncontained joy.

She pulls me into a warm, genuine hug. I wrap my arms around her slim frame, returning the affection instantly. I truly couldn't have asked for a better wife for Declan; I just love her spirit. Pulling back, I keep my hands resting lightly on her shoulders and turn her toward my husband.

"Celeste, I want to proudly introduce you to—"

"Gideon Vance, I know," she interrupts me, her voice bubbling with excitement. She steps forward with a brilliant smile. "Good day, sir."

I turn to look at Gideon, expecting his usual stiff nod or gruff acknowledgment. Instead, I freeze in my tracks.

Gideon simply stares at her, looking utterly dumbstruck for a moment. The color abruptly drains from his normally ruddy face, leaving him looking pale and shaken. His wide eyes trace the delicate lines of her face, unblinking, as if he has just seen a ghost walk right out of the walls. He stands up straighter from his relaxed posture, his eyes remaining locked fiercely on Celeste. The silence stretches on for an agonizing, bizarre beat. I stare at both of them, closely watching how they react to each other. What on earth is wrong with him?

Gideon blinks rapidly, swallowing hard. He quickly masks his bizarre shock with sheer intimidation. He straightens his spine further, puffing out his broad chest to loom over the young girl. His facial features harden into stone.

"Are you ready to be a Vance?" he demands aggressively, his dreadful, booming voice cutting sharply through the room.

Celeste drops her cheerful demeanor. Her bright smile vanishes instantly. She trembles visibly at first, completely taken aback by his unprovoked hostility. I push back a frown and the strong urge to glare directly at Gideon. That wasn’t a standard question to ask out of the blue; he made it sound like she was preparing for a death race.

"I... I think I am," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gideon takes a step closer, invading her personal space, his imposing shadow falling over her. "Being a Vance is not going to be the same as just being you. You have my name to uphold, are you ready for that?"

Celeste looks away, biting hard into her lower lip. She wrings her hands together nervously in front of her stomach. The thick tension in the living room is suffocating. Gareth looks ready to faint in the corner, and I pray fervently in my heart that Gideon won't burst open and cause a scene in front of the Hayeses. She is to be married to our son, and I expected him to have a little control over his massive ego and legendary anger so he doesn't scare her away.

"I think I am," she replies again, her voice shaking.

"You can't keep thinking; it's either a yes or a no," Gideon barks back, relentlessly applying pressure. "Being a Vance doesn't come easy, and I wouldn't want to think that I made a massive mistake. Now, are you ready to be a Vance?"

The house turns absolutely quiet. Nobody speaks. I feel like crying at this point, fearing my husband is ruining weeks of my careful planning.

But to my absolute astonishment, Celeste stops trembling. She takes a deep breath and soon squares her shoulders. She lifts her chin, overcoming her sudden panic attack, and meets his imposing, terrifying gaze without looking away. She stands tall, daring him right back.

"Don't get angry about what I am saying, Mr. Vance," she boldly challenges him, noticing the rigid tension in his heavy jawline.

Gideon's eyes narrow as she stands her ground, refusing to be bullied.

"I can clearly remember that I was forced to be married to your son," she continues, her voice ringing clear and steady in the quiet room. "It was never by self-will or by love. I am not ready to be a Vance because, damn, I had just a few days to prepare for a wedding to a complete stranger. So no, don't blame me if being a Vance is not something I had to be ready for."

A heavy silence drops over us.

I desperately hide my proud smile, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my composure. What a fiery girl. I feel like giving her the appraisal of a lifetime. At that very moment, knowing with certainty that she can handle my son perfectly, my respect for her skyrockets.

Gideon's facial muscles twitch. From the dark look on his face, he isn't pleased by her defiance, though the harshness in his jawline softens just a fraction at her brave words. He forces a very stiff, unnatural smile. To Gareth, that might look like a genuine smile of approval, but as his wife, I know it is forced.

"Well said... well said," he bites out tightly. "Welcome to the family, my dear."

Without another word to her, he turns on his heel. "I will have to leave. I have seen all I came to see, and I have to return to work," he announces, giving me the distinct hint that he wants to escape this house immediately. He abruptly ends the visit, marching out the front door.

I join Gideon outside, sliding into the plush leather seat of the car just as he slams his door shut. The engine purrs to life, and the driver pulls away from the curb.

Once we are safely back in the car, his stoic mask completely slips. He runs a heavy hand over his face, his breathing harsh and ragged.

"I don't like her," he blurts out angrily, staring blankly at the partition separating us from the driver. My heart ceases beating for a swift moment.

"What do you mean?" I ask, turning in my seat to face him, a sudden wave of panic hitting my chest.

"Did you hear her in there?" he snaps, turning his blazing eyes on me. "She looks like a girl who would go against my every word. Did you see those eyes of hers? That blatant defiance will inevitably change Declan. She won't fall in line."

I watch him carefully. I am not a fool. His anger feels forced, a loud cover for whatever he experienced on that porch. I had clearly seen his initial, unexplainable shock. The way the blood left his face. The way his eyes darted over her features like he was solving a terrifying puzzle. I know there is a much deeper reason he isn't telling me.

"I saw the look in your eyes when you saw her, Gideon," I say quietly, probing his solid defenses. "There is something more to this than you are saying. You looked terrified."

He goes mute, his muscles twitching. He stares out the window, his chest rising and falling rapidly, confirming my strong gut feeling. He shuts me out, stubbornly refusing to explain the source of his visceral reaction.

"She is getting married to your son," I dare him, my tone final and brokering no argument. "You just have to live with it."

POV: CELESTE

I quickly retreat to my room, closing the door behind me and leaning heavily against the solid wooden frame. My chest heaves as I desperately try to catch my breath. The events of the day keep replaying in my frantic head. My nerves are completely frayed, and my body shakes involuntarily after the terrifying confrontation with Gideon Vance.

He is a scary man. Everyone in my house confirmed it the second he walked out the door. I walk unsteadily toward my bed and collapse onto the edge of the mattress, just sitting there absentmindedly. What kind of life will I have with such an imposing, judgmental father-in-law constantly breathing down my neck? It doesn't sit well with me at all.

Just as my anxious mind drifts back to my deeply intimidating new father-in-law, my phone suddenly rings, vibrating loudly against the nightstand. Still trapped in my swirling thoughts, I reach out and grab the device. I answer it absentmindedly, completely unaware of who is on the line.

"Yes..." I speak softly into the receiver, staring blankly at the wall.

"How are you?" the caller asks.

"I'm good... I guess," I reply softly, tracing the fresh memory of Gideon's glare in my mind.

The line goes quiet for a brief moment. Then, a firm, hard voice booms through the speaker, jolting me back to reality. "What's wrong?"

I jerk upright, my rapidly beating heart skipping a heavy beat. The deep, rich timbre is unmistakable.

"Declan..." I blurt out, quickly pulling the phone away from my ear to look at the bright screen. His name flashes clearly. I scramble to find my words. "I am so sorry, I was just... I wasn't paying attention."

"Are you okay?" he asks again, his deep voice heavily laced with genuine concern that immediately begins to soothe my highly frazzled nerves.

"I am fine," I lie weakly, trying to force a normal tone.

He immediately sees right through my weak lie. "I can tell you are not fine... don't lie to me. I despise lies," his voice sounds cold, and my heart skips again.

"It's nothing to worry about," I say, biting my lip.

A beat of silence passes between us.

"It's my father, isn't it?" he guesses accurately, hitting the nail right on the head.

I go mute, unable to formulate a response.

His deep voice softens, washing away the coldness. "My mom told me a little about his visit today. Listen to me, Celeste. Don't stress over it. He has always been that way. He uses intimidation as a greeting."

A small rush of relief washes through my chest. He gently reassures me not to stress over his father's usual overbearing behavior, making me feel incredibly protected.

Then, he seamlessly shifts the topic, pulling me away from the lingering dread. "I saw your gown, by the way," he mentions casually.

I blink, confused. "What... are you supposed to see it... I haven't even..."

He chuckles, interrupting the little tantrum I am about to pull. The rich, easy sound of his amusement does wonders for my racing pulse.

"Did you make the choice yourself?" he asks when he finishes laughing.

"Mom Vivienne already had everything set up by herself," I grumble softly, feeling slightly annoyed that I had absolutely no say in the choice of my own wedding dress.

"Tell me, what your dream wedding is supposed to look like," he suddenly urges.

My eyes widen in surprise. I shift my weight on the mattress. "Uhmmm... it's... are you sure? It's a long list, from the specific gown to the fresh flowers to the exact decorations. It's really long," I blurt out, confessing the hidden desires I never thought anyone would ask about.

"You even have a gown in mind... wish I can see it," he says, his voice dropping into a thoughtful, intimate register.

"I have a sketch of it, actually," I admit, a shy smile breaking across my face. "It's somewhere... hidden away in my room, I think."

"Good... now let's do this," he instructs smoothly, his tone taking on a decisive, eager edge. "Tell me every detail of your dream wedding and find the sketch of the gown while you are at it, so you can send it to me."

I hesitate, looking around my messy bedroom. "Declan, it might take a while to find."

"And I have a lot of time, do not miss a single detail," he strictly warns me, cutting off my protests.

Deeply comforted by the soothing, attentive sound of his voice, a wide grin stretches across my face. I place the phone on speaker, immediately jumping up to start my search. For the next long while, I aggressively tear through my room. I pull open dresser drawers, tossing clothes over my shoulder. I dive into the back of my closet, knocking over shoeboxes while excitedly blabbing about my dream wedding.

Declan stays on the line the entire time. He teases me when a stack of books crashes to the floor, laughing out loud at my frantic, breathless searching. He provokes me with playful comments, causing me to pause and argue back, but he keeps apologizing and warmly urges me to continue describing the lace patterns and the aisle decorations, making my once-chaotic day feel wonderfully bright.