Page 103 of His Forced Bride
The man has stood guard for me through wars, raids, and assassinations.
One middle-aged woman carrying legal papers poses no threat to his composure.
After ten minutes of futile argument, Viktoria steps closer to the gate and speaks directly to the security camera mounted above the entrance.
Her lips move with clarity, ensuring I can read her message even lacking sound.
She knows about the forged documents.
She knows her legal claim to the Mirov empire remains valid.
And she will expose everything unless I cooperate.
Then she waits, staring directly into the camera lens, her mouth curved in a wicked smile that promises destruction.
When she finally turns to leave, she hands Oleg a sealed envelope and walks away in a huff, and I finish my drink.
The vodka burns down my throat as I watch her retreat.
Semyon cast her out for betrayal—selling family secrets to competitors, embezzling funds, sleeping with rivals to gain market intelligence.
But before he could strip her legal rights to the company, she disappeared.
I never asked him what he did to keep her away, but now she has returned to collect what was never correctly taken from her.
I turn away from the window knowing I'll soon find out what all of this is about, and inside minutes, the envelope clutched in Oleg's scarred hand is in front of me.
"I'm assuming you saw that?" he asks, noting my computer monitors with the live security feed up.
"I did," I tell him, scowling at the envelope in his hand.
He places it on my desk and retreats, leaving me alone with whatever ammunition Viktoria has prepared.
It's better to just rip the bandage off, so I tear open the envelope and sit back in my seat to get this over with.
Inside, photocopies of original legal documents spread across my desk like cancer.
Corporate ownership papers bearing authentic signatures and official seals.
Marriage certificates displaying unaltered dates.
Birth records showing legitimate parentage and inheritance rights.
All of it proves Viktoria’s claim to fifty percent of the Mirov fashion empire, and only because Semyon supported his very own daughter financially as she got started.
He'd never have required this of Inessa, but here, Viktoria is like a vulture after a rotting carcass.
I study each page while fury builds.
These copies are too perfect to be fabrications. Somewhere in the city, Viktoria possesses the originals that could destroy everything Inessa built.
If these documents surface in court, my wife loses her company, her independence, her entire identity.
The business alliance that justified our marriage crumbles, leaving both our empires vulnerable to acquisition by hungrier predators.
But more than that—losing her company would destroy Inessa herself. I have watched her pour every ounce of passion and creativity into that business.
It defines her in ways that go beyond profit margins and market share.
