"Good evening, Stepmother."
Martin's stepmother, Rosella, responded to his greeting with a subtle bow.
Victoria stood rigid, her hand still lightly resting in Martin's as his stepmother's gaze swept over her like a silent appraisal. Rosella's eyes lingered on the dress, the sparkle of her jewelry, and the careful poise Victoria tried desperately to maintain.
"Good evening, Ma'am." Victoria greeted with a bow.
"Victoria, is it?" The aged beauty had her eyes scour her figure once more.
"Well," Rosella began, her voice smooth to the ears, "You are… quite the vision tonight." She paused.
"T- Thank you, Ma'am," Victoria had to hold her tongue from stammering, maintaining the polite expression etched on her face.
"Though I do wonder… from where you come from, such refinement must be… cultivated rather than innate, yes?" Rosella crooked her head.
Victoria's stomach tightened, but she held her smile. Li stood just behind her, a small anchor in the middle of this polished battlefield of the ballroom.
"And Martin," Rosella continued, shifting her gaze lazily toward him, "you went and got married… and no one knew?" Her lips curved slightly. "Was it meant to be a surprise, or were you simply… ashamed?"
Victoria's fingers tightened around her glass.
"Or perhaps," she went on, glancing back at Victoria, "you found someone from a less… sophisticated background. One must wonder what possessed you to keep it so discreet."
There it was. The expected elegant rudeness she was waiting for once the role of class came in.
Victoria inhaled slowly, but before she could speak—
"I see no reason to announce what has no relevance to your business, stepmother," Martin said calmly.
His poker face was unhinged.
"And as for my choice," he added, his tone even, almost indifferent, "I am pleased with it. That is enough."
Silence.
It didn't feel like a response. It felt like Martin just shut the door on the conversation.
Victoria blinked twice. She was stranded between being impressed or insulted…
Rosella's smile held, but something faint shifted behind her eyes.
"Hmm," she murmured, tilting her head. "Still as unbothered as ever, Martin, my darling. It's almost disappointing. One could spend an entire evening provoking you and gain nothing."
"If that is your aim, stepmother…" Martin's expression didn't change. "Then you'll have to work on your ambition."
Victoria nearly choked on her own breath.
That was when she knew Martin's level of calm was the goal. He didn't even blink twice.
Rosella only let out a soft laugh before returning her attention to Victoria.
"I do hope, dear," she continued, as if nothing had happened, "that you understand the standards of the family you are joining. One must know how to walk, speak… even how to hold a glass properly."
Victoria's grip tightened slightly around her champagne flute. That's when she realised she was holding it wrong—compared to the others around—how could she be so careless.
His stepmother's eyes flicked down to her hand, the faintest hint of amusement returning. "Oh I see... Perhaps your hand is not quite accustomed to the finer things. That's all right. One cannot expect everyone to arrive fully trained."
Victoria's lips stayed static with a caricature smile, unsure of how to respond. She gulped softly, offering a subtle nod. "Duly noted, Ma'am."
That was all she saw fit to say. Unfortunately that didn't satisfy the 'elegance policewoman' in front of them.
"Class is innate, dear." Rosella's smile thinned just slightly. "So I don't blame you. If this is all your mother had to pass down, you never stood a chance."
And there it was.
Victoria felt it land harder than she thought she could bear, only to have a crack in the smile she tried to hold.
She just had to involve her mother...
A brow twitched. "Ma'am…" Victoria's voice came out bolder. "What I inherited from my mother is the humility you clearly lack, and the patience you're currently testing."
Rosella's brows crooked slightly, taken aback at Victoria's sudden change in demeanor as she looked her dead in the eyes.
But the only thoughts in Victoria's head knew she had to go lower.
Straightening her smile just enough, Victoria added.
"And I suppose," her voice was calm, "that your family taught you condescension substitutes for refinement in order to achieve self-significance?"
Silence.
Rosella blinked once, her expression stale in thought.
Victoria smiled with the swell in her chest. Well… that landed exactly where I aimed it.
"Oh whoa… Now you're an interesting one, aren't you?" Rosella said after a moment, her composure returning like it had never left.
Victoria stood unfazed.
"Martin, darling, you have peculiar taste, that's for sure." Rosella took a sip of her wine, her gaze not breaking from Victoria.
Martin responded with silence.
His stepmother inhaled softly, "It seems I will have to observe you closely to see whether your behavior truly matches the beauty you convey."
Victoria lifted her glass slightly in a toast, her smile perfectly pasted. "I will do my best to live up to your expectations."
In all of this, Martin said nothing.
And somehow, that silence felt like approval.
Rosella held her gaze for a moment longer, then gave a faint nod before stepping back, the conversation dismissed without being resolved.
The air around them eased, but only slightly.
Victoria exhaled softly, the tension slipping from her shoulders in small increments. Good.
She exhaled softly.
She didn't trip. She didn't spill drinks on anyone. I only mildly insulted my husband's stepmother... Progress…
Oh shit.
Li then stepped closer, her voice was low and calm. "Well done, ma'am. It seems First Lady seems to be growing fond of you already."
Victoria gazed over her shoulders, meeting Li's smile. She gulped, slowly raising her eyes to meet her dear husband.
Martin's dark orbs stared back, his lips pressed in a thin line — his brows scrunched.
• • •
The music softened, blending into a slow, steady rhythm as the crowd shifted around them. At some point, without Victoria even noticing how, Martin had guided her toward the center of the floor with a slow dance.
Li was no longer beside her.
It was just the two of them now.
His hand rested lightly at her waist, while her fingers stayed stiff against his shoulder, as though she was afraid even that might be wrong.
They moved slowly, in sync.
Victoria kept her gaze lowered all through despite their closeness. And of course, her darling husband had his stale gaze lost amidst space like he moved out of automation.
Finally, she bottled up the courage to speak.
"I- I'm… sorry," she murmured quietly.
Martin's eyes lowered slightly, settling on her face. "What for?"
She hesitated. "Your stepmother. I may have… spoken out of place… A- And I may have disrespected your family's values by my statement."
An understatement of course, she thought. She practically handed her a wrapped insult in sophisticated English.
For a brief second, there was only the sound of music between them as she was too afraid to look him in the eyes.
"You did not," Martin's tone was flat.
Victoria blinked, her eyes lifting to meet his.
His expression hadn't changed. Still stoic and unreadable. But his voice carried a quiet certainty that made her pause.
"If anything," he continued, "you were too restrained."
That… was not what she expected.
"I thought…" she started, then stopped, unsure how to phrase it without sounding foolish. "I assumed I crossed a line."
Martin's gaze didn't waver. "Then learn this early."
He leaned in to bring his lips closer to the side of her head, lowering his tone.
"You are no longer in a position where silence is a virtue," he said. "You speak when necessary. You respond when challenged."
Victoria swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder.
"No wife of the Solberg family," he added, his voice quiet but firm, "should be walked upon."
Victoria let his words sink in.
"Especially not by people who have no standing to begin with." His eyes then shifted toward the side of the room.
Victoria followed his gaze.
The three maids.
They stood at a corner, attending to guests, their movements properly polite and charming, as though they had never laughed or whispered at all.
Victoria's lips pressed together. Oh… at least he saw it too.
She was starting to think she imagined it all.
Martin's attention returned to her. "Understand this," he said. "You are not here to endure disrespect quietly."
Victoria nodded slowly. "I understand."
Though, internally—Did she? Because five hours ago she was just trying not to sit in the wrong chair at the spa.
His world wasn't anything near what she was familiar with — everything was foreign and every moment felt threatening.
It felt like the crown he had worn on her head as his wife was both a blessing and a cruel curse she had to face in a sea of judgmental eyes all waiting for her one mistake.
She bit her lips.
And she didn't know how long she could tread on these eggshells.
Though not saying a word, Martin's eyes did not miss the hint of anxiety on her face. He stayed quiet.
As they continued moving to the steady rhythm, his guidance was subtle but constant; she adjusted her steps carefully, focusing on not misplacing her footing.
Don't step on him! Don't fall! Possibly survive the night! Her face was doing a poor job at hiding her panic.
After a moment of not trying to break both their feet, Victoria spoke again. "Thank you… for earlier."
Martin glanced down at her. "What exactly?"
She hesitated. "For… speaking up. Especially when she questioned your decision of me."
His expression remained the same. "I stated a fact."
Of course he did.
Victoria let out a small breath, something between disappointment and disbelief. Right. Of course. Nothing emotional here.
If his voice had any hint of human touch, she might have blushed.
Still, something about it settled in her chest.
They continued to move across the floor, the music carrying them, the noise of the party fading just enough to give the moment its space.
Victoria's gaze flickered up at him again, noting the exact same expression she saw on him from day one.
Poker, much?
Strange, she then thought. What exactly was going through that head of his?