Diana didn't sleep. Not even for a second.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ethan's face… then Victor's.
One filled her with anger. The other she pushed the thought away.
Morning light crept through the curtains, soft and deceptive. Nothing about this place felt soft.
A knock came. Sharp. Precise.
"Madam, breakfast is ready."
Diana blinked.
Madam.
The word felt foreign. Heavy. Like a role she hadn't agreed to play.
"I'll be down," she replied.
Her voice sounded calmer than she felt.
Good. She needed control.
The dining room was massive.
Cold marble. Long table. Silence.
And at the head of it Victor.
Already seated. Already composed. Like he hadn't just turned her life upside down.
He didn't look up immediately, just continued reading something on his tablet.
Diana walked in slowly, every step measured.
"You're late," he said without lifting his gaze.
Her jaw tightened. "Good morning to you too."
That made him look up. Just for a second. But it was enough.
His eyes scanned her—quick, sharp, assessing. Like he was measuring something.
"Sit," he said.
Not an invitation. An instruction.
Diana hesitated. Then sat.
Because for now… she needed to understand the game before she tried to win it.
Minutes passed in silence.
The sound of cutlery. The quiet clink of glass.
Too quiet.
Diana dropped her fork.
"I don't like silence," she said.
Victor didn't react. "Then speak."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Your son."
That got his attention. Barely. But enough.
"What about him?"
"He's a problem."
Victor leaned back slightly, studying her now. Fully.
"And you're not?"
Diana held his gaze. "I didn't lie. I didn't cheat. I didn't betray anyone."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Approval? No. Interest. Dangerous interest.
"Careful," he said quietly. "You're starting to sound like you expect sympathy."
"I expect clarity," she shot back.
Silence again. But this time, it wasn't empty. It was charged.
Footsteps.
Diana stiffened before she even turned.
Ethan.
Of course.
He walked in like he owned the place—then stopped the moment he saw them together at the table, like a couple.
His jaw clenched.
"Good morning," he said, but his eyes were on Diana—burning, questioning, accusing.
Diana picked up her glass calmly and took a sip.
Let him look. Let him feel it.
Victor didn't move. Didn't acknowledge him. That alone said everything.
Power wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
Ethan laughed dryly. "So this is real."
No one answered.
He stepped closer.
"Tell me something, Diana," he said. "Was this your plan all along?
Her grip tightened slightly around the glass, but her face didn't change.
"You really think I'd plan to marry your father?" she asked coldly.
Ethan didn't smile. "I don't know what to think anymore."
"Then don't," she replied.
That hit.
She saw it.
Good."Enough."
Victor's voice cut through them both.
Calm. Final.
Ethan went still.
Diana felt it again—that shift in the air whenever Victor spoke like that.
Authority. Absolute.
"You will not question my wife in my house," Victor said.
Ethan let out a breath, shaking his head. "This is insane."
Victor stood slowly, deliberately. Suddenly, the room felt smaller.
"You're free to leave if it makes you uncomfortable."
Ethan scoffed. "You think I'm running?"
"I don't think," Victor said, stepping closer. "I decide."
Silence. Heavy.
Then Ethan's gaze snapped to Diana again.
"This isn't over."
Diana met his eyes.
"It already is."
He left.
But the tension didn't. It lingered. Thick. Unfinished.
Diana exhaled slowly, setting her glass down.
"This is going to be a problem," she muttered.
Victor turned to her.
"Everything worth having is."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "And what exactly do you think you have?"
He stepped closer. Too close. Again.
"You," he said.
Simple. Certain. Like it wasn't even a question.
Diana's heartbeat stuttered.
"You don't own me," she said quietly.
Victor's gaze dropped just briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes.
"No," he agreed.
A pause.
"But you're starting to behave like you belong to me."
Diana's breath caught.
And for the first time… it wasn't just fear she felt.