Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Luzia had not expected to encounter Shelley at the Marc by Marc Jacobs boutique. She pursed her lips in slight annoyance-if only she had known, she would have opted for the Coach store across the street.

“Miss Vivian, Luzia, it’s such a quick reunion,” Shelley greeted them warmly as she approached. “Let me introduce you, this is my cousin, John Benoist.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Vivian,” John said, executing a flawless gentlemanly gesture toward Vivian. His short hair, slightly curled at the temples, was the same pale gold as Shelley’s.

He was tall and on the lean side, not particularly muscular, with gentle features and a soft demeanor, a stark contrast to Alajos’s rugged wildness. If Alajos was an imperious king, then John would be the gentle and elegant noble knight.

Vivian responded politely, “Hello, Mr. Benoist.”

Luzia did not appreciate the way John’s gaze lingered on Vivian. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, “Hey, John Benoist, did you not see me?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t dare overlook you,” John said, lifting Luzia’s hand and gracefully kissing the back of her fingers, “My queen.”

It was a common gesture of hand-kissing, yet John performed it with such grace that it truly seemed as if a noble prince was bowing his head to his beloved queen, offering his respect and loyalty.

Vivian’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Luzia used to be John’s girlfriend; they were very much in love,” Shelley whispered to Vivian, standing beside her. “Later, my uncle sent John to study in England, and Luzia was given to Paavo by old Capo.”

“John has come back from England with the intent to take Luzia away.”

“You should tell Luzia,” Vivian said to Shelley, looking at her intently. “You actually don’t like me, do you? I can see the hostility in your eyes.”

“No one likes their rival in love,” Shelley took a deep breath, the resentment in her eyes unmistakable. “If it weren’t for you, I would have been the one marrying Alajos.”

Vivian was shocked, realizing that Shelley’s words were sincere.

Her thoughts drifted to Sophia, Luzia’s friend.

So Shelley was also Alajos’s lover. Had she been intimate with him? Without her, Shelley would have been Alajos’s wife. Did Alajos love her?

Vivian’s mind went blank. Facing the lover-or was it girlfriend-of her future husband, she didn’t know whether to feel jealous or angry, she wasn’t even sure how to respond to Shelley’s remark. Was her marriage to Alajos not of her own free will? “If you want, can I give Alajos to you?”

As if no words could bring either of them any satisfaction, she pitied herself for her lack of control, and Shelley for her unrequited love.

…

For a long time after her encounter with the Benoist siblings at the Marc by Marc Jacobs boutique, Vivian heard nothing of them. Alajos was busy with his work, and Luzia often kept Vivian company in his stead.

One day, while watching a British period drama in the living room, a handsome prince was forced to marry a foreign princess, his beloved was demoted to a mistress and was poisoned by the prince’s wife…Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

She was certainly not that malicious princess…

Vivian thought indignantly, then suddenly snapped back to reality. What was she thinking? She was no princess, Alajos was no prince, and Shelley was certainly not a prince’s mistress.

But did Alajos truly have no beloved girl?

“What are you worrying about?” Luzia glanced at the TV, then back at Vivian. “Is the plot disgusting to you?”

“You said before…” Vivian bit her lip, internally struggling whether to ask Luzia.

“Said what?” Luzia blinked her large eyes, her gaze filled with confusion.

“You said before that Alajos has a lot of sexual experience, that even your friend has slept with him. So, does he have, has he ever…” Vivian clenched her teeth and blurted out with her eyes closed, “Does he have a girl he loves?”

“Ah,” Luzia blinked, looking at Vivian with a stupefied expression as if puzzled by her question.

Vivian took her expression to mean “yes” and her face fell, “Oh my god, I’m the other woman!”

This leap in logic was too sudden, startling Luzia, “No, no, no, trust me, dear, how could you possibly be the other woman.”

“Capo would never fall in love with anyone. Note the word ‘anyone,'” Luzia quickly reassured Vivian, “including his wife.”

VVivian felt as though she had been stabbed by Luzia’s words, “Should I be happy or sad about that?”

Luzia herself seemed lost for words, pausing before saying, “Perhaps you should be happy that you’re not the other woman.”

Vivian managed a wry smile, unable to truly laugh.

“Come on, dear, please tell me, why would you think such a thing? That you are the other woman?” Luzia inquired. “Did Shelley say something to you?”

“No,” Vivian shook her head, “Nothing at all.”

“Then let me tell you,” Luzia said, sitting opposite Vivian and speaking earnestly. “The Benoist family are some of Houston’s most loyal followers. Shelley’s father was the first elder to support Alajos, and her brother was one of the eighteen brave warriors who died following Uncle Kamden. She has adored Alajos since she was a child.”

“Would Alajos marry her?” Vivian asked cautiously, unsure of what kind of answer she needed-a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.

“If Uncle Kamden hadn’t died in battle, then he would have decided on Alajos’s marriage. No one knew Uncle Kamden’s true intentions,” Luzia explained, looking at her. “Maybe he would have, maybe not.”

Kamden was dead, and the living could not fathom the thoughts of the deceased; hence, the true answer was buried with Kamden’s death.

…

Luzia wasn’t always at Alajos’s apartment to keep Vivian company; more often, Vivian was alone. Mare was there too, but he seldom made his presence known.

On this day, the apartment was as usual, occupied only by Vivian. She went upstairs, not to her own room, but turned a corner toward the other end of the hallway-toward Alajos’s room.

Alajos’s apartment was much larger than her Golden Hill Apartment, yet the number of rooms upstairs was not much greater because each room here was larger than her room at Golden Hill, and the decor was significantly different.

Vivian guessed that Alajos preferred a simple, bold, and bright style because the decorations in the apartment were almost devoid of overly complex and vibrant elements. The walls were pristine white, the wooden floor was a deep brown, and the carpets were gray with light patterns. The coffee table in the living room was black, and the storage cabinets retained their natural wood color.

Passing by Alajos’s study, Vivian didn’t intend to enter. She had no desire to pry into Alajos’s business; she was merely interested in his room-after all, it was where she would be living in the future, and she felt entitled to a preview.

Vivian pushed open the door in front of her. Alajos’s room wasn’t locked, revealing his private space as if expecting her arrival.