United in Hatred

Vivienne’s POV

The brief, hostile standoff in the parlor melted away as our parents ushered us into the grand dining room. The sprawling mahogany table stretched across the center of the room, groaning under the weight of silver platters and crystal goblets. I took my seat opposite Valentin. The physical distance between us did nothing to dampen the raw animosity radiating across the floral centerpiece. We suffered through the first two courses in agonizing silence. The maids served roasted duck and bitter greens, but the food tasted like ash in my mouth. The clinking of heavy silverware against fine porcelain and the hollow murmur of polite small talk felt like nails on a chalkboard. My mother kept shooting me warning glances, silently demanding I behave, while Valentin sat across from me like a stone statue.

Then, Grigori cleared his throat. He set his wine glass down and officially announced the proposed marriage between his son and me.

Valentin did not hesitate. His voice sliced through the tension at the grand dining table like a razor. "Absolutely not."

I picked up my water glass and took a slow sip, barely managing to hold back a burst of genuine laughter. A warm wave of appreciation washed over me. Even after all these years of separation, Valentin hated me just as fiercely as I hated him. We still shared that same foundational disdain. We spent our entire childhood treating each other like the plague, turning every family gathering into a battlefield. He played the perfect, obedient son for everyone else in this room, but the mere thought of marrying me broke right through his polished facade.

I set my glass down and offered him a wide, mocking smile. "At least we agree on one thing. We will never see eye to eye, but we sure as hell agree on our mutual, unyielding hatred for each other."

Valentin’s jaw clenched. His eyes darkened with a familiar, unspoken threat.

Grigori stepped in to smooth over his son's brash tone. He turned to my parents with an easy, diplomatic smile. "I apologize for Valentin’s disrespect. He understands the importance of this arrangement. After all, we decided on this union when the two of you were mere children. It is a binding commitment."

Valentin leaned forward. He rested his forearms on the table, fixing his father with an icy stare. "I will not marry her. I said it once, and I am saying it again."

I leaned back in my chair and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Likewise, Pretty boy."

My mother shot a murderous, warning glare in my direction. If looks could draw blood, I would have dropped dead onto my untouched plate of roasted duck.

Grigori’s diplomatic smile vanished. His expression hardened into a commanding, terrifying glare that stripped away any illusion of choice in the room. He locked eyes with his son. "You do not have a choice, Valentin. You are going to marry Vivienne, and that is final."

Valentin pushed his heavy chair back. The legs scraped loud and harsh against the marble floor. He stood up and stormed out of the dining room without uttering another syllable.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind him. The remaining occupants of the room sat in stunned, awkward silence. I dropped my napkin onto the table, deeply frustrated by the humiliating spectacle.

I turned to my parents, keeping my voice low but firm. "We should just head home. This is a waste of time."

Before my mother could scold me, Grigori stood up from his seat. He offered a brief nod of apology to my father and followed his son out into the corridor.

The seconds dragged into minutes. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner echoed like a hammer against my skull. My mother picked at her manicured nails, her anxiety rolling off her in waves. My father stared a hole into the white linen tablecloth, the weight of our hidden bankruptcy pressing down on his shoulders. He needed this merger to survive. I stared at the empty doorway, praying that Valentin was currently telling his father to go to hell. If Valentin held his ground, I was safe. His stubbornness was my only shield.

The oak doors finally swung open. Grigori returned to the table. He wore a tight, forced smile that did not reach his eyes. He retook his seat and picked up his wine glass.

"I have spoken with my son. The marriage will proceed. Valentin has officially agreed."

My stomach twisted into a painful knot. Frustration bubbled over the edge of my restraint. I opened my mouth to protest, but my mother kicked my ankle under the table.

She leaned in and spoke in a hushed, urgent tone. "Vivienne, why don’t you go outside and find Valentin? You two need to establish some common ground."

I wanted to scream at the absurdity of her request. Common ground? The only common ground Valentin and I shared was the desire to see each other miserable. I looked toward my father to plead my case, but he stopped me cold. His stern, silent reprimand told me everything I needed to know. My compliance was not optional.

I reluctantly pushed back my chair, muttered a stiff excuse to our hosts, and made my way out of the dining room.

The mansion felt like a sprawling, ornate prison. The endless corridors and towering ceilings pressed in on me as I searched for the back exit. Portraits of long-dead Sokolov ancestors stared down from the walls, their painted eyes judging my every step. I pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped out into the cool night air. The manicured garden stretched out before me, bathed in pale moonlight that cast long, twisted shadows across the pristine lawns.

I spotted him standing at the very edge of the stone terrace. He kept his back turned to me, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tailored slacks. He did not bother to turn around as my heels clicked against the stone path.

He spoke without looking at me. His voice was flat and devoid of emotion. "What do you want?"

I stopped a few feet behind him. The crisp night breeze did nothing to cool the anger burning in my chest. "Between the two of us, you have superior power and influence. You can say no to this marriage. I am begging you to put an end to this. It is our only way out."

He finally turned to face me. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, illuminating eyes that were cold, calculating, and ruthless.

He took a slow step toward me. "First, I forbid you from calling me Val. Second, I am going to say yes to the marriage."

My stomach dropped. A wave of terrified confusion washed over me. "How could you flip your stance so drastically in less than thirty minutes? You just walked out of that dining room declaring you would never do this."

He did not flinch. "The why does not matter. The only thing that matters is that we are stuck in this."

My mind reeled. I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting a sudden shiver. "How are we supposed to just accept this? We cannot stand each other."

Valentin’s lips curled into a cruel, calculated smirk. "We sign a secret contract."

I narrowed my eyes, suspicious of the sudden shift in his demeanor. "A contract?"

He closed the distance between us. He towered over me, his presence suffocating and dark. "We will give our parents exactly what they want for one single year. We provide the illusion of a wonderful marriage and the production of a child. After that year is up, we separate. Simple."

Hearing him spout nonsense about a wonderful marriage and a child felt worse than a physical slap across the face. The word 'child' echoed in my head like a death sentence. To share a bed with the man I despised. To carry his heir. The thought made my skin crawl and my blood run cold.

I raised my chin and challenged him, refusing to back down. "And what happens if I refuse your sick contract?"

His smirk deepened. He leaned in, dropping his voice to a chilling, lethal whisper. "If you refuse, your father’s business will be left in ruins. You will lose everything, Hensley. You have far more to lose than I do."

He paused, letting the weight of his threat sink into my bones. His eyes scanned my face, drinking in my shock and despair. "So, what will it be?"

He did not wait for my answer. He turned his back on me and walked away. The crisp crunch of his footsteps faded into the distance. His tall frame dissolved into the shadows of the sprawling garden, leaving me standing alone in the biting cold. The night air rushed into my lungs, but I still felt suffocated. A violent urge clawed at my throat. I wanted to end his life. I wanted to burn this entire estate to the ground. But more than that, as the terrifying reality of his child-making clause settled over me, I wanted to end my own. I was trapped in a cage made of gold and blackmail, and there was no key.