Elara chats with me throughout the evening, telling jokes, telling stories about the brothers, making sure I never feelalone for even a second. She makes the night bearable. Almost enjoyable.
Every now and then, I feel Dimitri’s gaze burning holes through the side of my face. I ignore him.
He made himself a wall between us—fine. I can build one too.
I laugh softly at something Elara says, and Dimitri’s hand tightens around his wine glass.
Good.
Let him watch me choose where I give my attention.
Let him see I’m not the fragile doll he thought he married.
The night ends in a soft blur of laughter and warm air. We all spill outside together, the women drifting ahead, hand in hand, while the brothers follow a few steps behind. It’s…wholesome. Strange, but wholesome.
They accept me without hesitation, already talking about a weekend shopping trip, listing stores, shoes, bags. And I say yes. Because I love shopping. And because if I’m stuck in this family with this man for God knows how long, I might as well have allies—friends.
As they chat about outfits and where to go first, my phone buzzes.
Sienna.
Hey girl.
My lips tug into a faint smile. Sienna Roth—one of the few people I call my friend. Born into wealth, but built her own empire in the art world. A force of nature. We met years ago at an art gala and instantly clicked.
Hi Sienna. How are you?
Another buzz.
I’m at this art event…and overheard some people talking quietly. The Laurent fortune has been completely absorbed byRusnak accounts—that Dimitri legally owns everything now. Is this true?
My stomach drops so fast the ground tilts.
Everything?
Everything?
I go silent, staring at the message as the women continue talking about new season collections and matching shoes. Their voices fade into static.
Behind us, Dimitri steps up beside me.
Ahead of us, his brothers disperse, waving and calling on their wives as they head to their cars.
I can’t react. Not here. Not in front of them.
So I say nothing.
I just stand there, phone in hand, pulse hammering in my throat as Dimitri places his hand on the small of my back—possessive, casual, like he owns that too—and guides me toward our car.
As soon as the car doors shut, I round on him—no breath, no hesitation, no fear.
“What did you do?” My voice cracks. “Tell me the truth, Dimitri. You now own all of the Laurents’ wealth?”
He doesn’t even flinch.
“Yes.”
Just that.
