Page 81 of His Forced Bride
What else would it be?
"My marriage creates no complications?" I ask, but I already know what she means.
It just presents a hurdle she has to cross.
"Doesn't it? What happens to your carefully constructed alliance when my daughter inherits nothing? When the Mirov empire dissolves in legal fees and court battles?"
Viktoria's point is well taken.
The bodies of my son and Semyon aren't even in the ground yet—tied up in an investigation my buddies on the force couldn't circumvent quickly enough.
When they're released, we'll have a proper wake for each of them, but for now, until the dust settles, they haven't even read the will.
Viktoria is trying to contest it all faster than a jackal takes its prey to make sure no one is the wiser.
She signals the waiter and orders wine without consulting me—an expensive Bordeaux.
And then she turns back to me with a viper's eyes.
"You're betting I'll pressure her to settle."
"I'm betting you're a practical man who understands cost-benefit analysis."
She tastes the wine, nods approval after the waiter pours her a glass.
"This litigation will consume years and millions of rubles. Even if I lose—which is unlikely—the company won't survive the process."
"And your proposed solution?"
"Give me access to my daughter. Let me explain the situation directly, help her understand the benefits of a negotiated settlement. I'm sure we can reach terms that serve everyone's interests."
The request sounds reasonable, even maternal.
But I know manipulation when I hear it.
Give Viktoria time alone with Inessa, and she'll use every psychological weapon at her disposal—guilt, fear, false affection—to convince her daughter to sign over everything.
And if that doesn't work, she'll simply lock her away from the world and speak for her, or worse.
Murder isn't off the table with her.
"No."
"No?" Her eyebrows arch in feigned surprise.
"You're refusing to let a mother speak with her child?"
"I'm refusing to let a predator near my wife."
Her expression slips slightly, revealing the cold ambition beneath the maternal concern.
"My daughter is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions."
"Your daughter is under my protection."
"Your protection, or your control?"
Viktoria leans forward, her green eyes bright with malicious intelligence.
