Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Vivian took in a breath of cold air, finally realizing the peril she had been in. If the situation had not allowed for an easy escape, if the false “Emilija” had truly been a Bratva assassin, she could have easily slit Vivian’s throat without a moment’s notice. A viscous malice enveloped Vivian deeply; she shuddered, unable to shake off the goosebumps. “You…,” Vivian struggled, her fear making her voice hoarse, “Have you found out her true identity?”

“No,” this was what truly raised Emmert’s guard. Vivian was taken aback, “Isn’t she from Bratva?”

“I don’t know,” Emmert sighed, “We’ve exhausted all our resources to uncover this woman’s background, but not even Festus could find her true identity.”

Vivian didn’t fully grasp the implications, but “Emilija” had certainly not entered the spa under false pretenses just to give her a massage. That woman definitely harbored unseen secrets.

An unknown fear hung over Vivian like a dark cloud, leaving her with lingering trepidation as she silently made her way back to the apartment. During the days Emmert served as her bodyguard, he would stay in the apartment. Fortunately, there were plenty of guest rooms, and he picked one at random to stay in.

Vivian felt a chill run through her body and longed to take a hot bath in her bedroom. Emmert stopped her, “Alajos doesn’t want us to tell you about ‘Emilija’ for fear of scaring you.”

Vivian’s hand tightened on the doorknob unconsciously, “Then why did you tell me?”

“Even though it might be frightening, I think you should know,” Emmert handed something over. Vivian looked down and saw a Glock26.

“You’ll need it,” Emmert said, “No one can protect you around the clock-neither Alajos, nor Mare, nor I. When real danger comes, the only ones who can save you are yourself and this.”

“I…” Vivian felt her throat constricting. She looked at the gun in Emmert’s hand in silence for several minutes, while Emmert maintained the gesture of offering the gun.

With great difficulty, Vivian swallowed and, as if making a momentous decision, released her grip on the doorknob and took the gun from Emmert’s hand, “Thank you.”

Returning to her room, Vivian closed the door behind her and paced around with the gun for a long time. She didn’t know where the safest place to keep the gun was, and her mind was still muddled, her hands and feet icy cold. She had been so close to death, and had that girl been a bit more ruthless, a bit more reckless, Vivian would have been dead.

This realization made Vivian feel as though she had fallen into an ice cellar. She dropped the gun and rushed into the bathroom for a shower. As she turned on the faucet, the hot water splashed her face, momentarily bringing her to her senses. She dried her face with a towel and then ran back out, bringing the gun from the carpet into the bathroom with her.

The sound of trickling water filled the air again, and the white water mist blurred the mirror above the washbasin. The warm water on her face made Vivian’s vision blurry, but as her body gradually warmed under the flow, she became acutely aware-she was still alive.

Regardless of the mystery surrounding “Emilija’s” identity and whether they could unravel it, the fact remained that she had failed to kill Vivian. She had lost the one opportunity most likely to have taken Vivian’s life, and there wouldn’t be a second chance.

Vivian wiped the water from her face and, once her hands and feet were no longer cold, she turned off the faucet. A small pool of water had gathered beneath her feet. She dried herself with a clean towel, wrapped herself in a bath towel, and walked out of the bathroom.

Alajos wouldn’t be coming back tonight, leaving her alone in the empty room. She placed the gun under her pillow, dried her hair, and burrowed into the covers. Her solitary shadow was cast on the blue sheets under the light.

Suddenly, she yearned for her mother. She found the phone and dialed the number for the Los Angeles villa, but hesitated when it started ringing.

She was fully aware that this call couldn’t bring her mother’s voice to her, but she still held onto hope.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

What if…

The phone rang at that moment, its vibration making Vivian’s palms tingle. She looked at the caller ID-a number from Los Angeles.

It wasn’t the number for the villa, but Vivian still recognized it-it was Bryson’s personal number.

As she recognized the caller ID, Vivian’s breath trembled. She was afraid of being alone with her father, even more afraid of having a private conversation with him. She would lose her agency, succumb to her father’s control.

She tossed the phone aside and buried herself in the covers, allowing the phone to buzz until it finally fell silent.

Vivian let out a breath, feeling a moment of relief. As long as she didn’t answer the phone, she could pretend that nothing had happened. But no sooner had she relaxed than the ghostly phone began to ring again, persisting for a long time as if the person on the other end had decided to keep calling until she picked up.

The phone disconnected due to no answer, but the next second, it rang again, its buzzing piercing Vivian’s head like a needle. Reluctantly, she answered.

“Hello.”

On the other end of the line, Bryson’s voice carried a sinister veneer of cordiality. “I’m delighted, Vivian, that your life is going so well that you’ve forgotten about your father.”

Vivian couldn’t help shivering. “I… I was in the shower, I didn’t hear the phone, father.”

“Is that so?” Vivian could imagine Bryson’s smirking and raised eyebrows on the other end of the line. “I thought you were avoiding my call out of guilt.”

“You disappoint me, Vivian,” Bryson’s voice came through the phone, “You haven’t served your husband properly, nor have you fulfilled your duty in maintaining the alliance between Los Angeles and Houston. You have failed me and my teachings.”

“I… I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Vivian’s heart pounded in her chest, fear constricting her throat. “Alajos and I haven’t argued, our relationship is amicable, and the soldiers from Los Angeles can still freely move in Houston.”

“Houston has reached an agreement with Washington and formed a new alliance, a betrayal to Los Angeles!” Bryson’s voice was filled with fury. He growled, “You failed to advise appropriately, causing your husband to break his agreement with Los Angeles. You must acknowledge your mistakes, Vivian.”

“No!” Vivian refused to accept Bryson’s accusations. “You restrict me from participating in your business, forcing me to play the role of a good wife, keeping me imprisoned in the apartment, indulging in shopping, beauty treatments, and leisure activities.”

“I accepted this arrangement, tried to adapt to this lifestyle, and I don’t believe I’ve done anything wrong,” Vivian retorted. “If mother were to meddle in your affairs, would you like it, father?”