Chapter 3

Vera：POV

Victor didn't notice Evgeny's lustful gaze toward me, simply responding, "Vera is not well lately."

After breakfast, I insisted on clearing the dishes myself despite the maid's protests. The kitchen was blissfully empty as I rinsed plates, trying to calm my churning stomach. Victor had returned to his office, and Marina had taken her tea to the solarium. This moment of solitude felt precious.

"Well, well, our Vera is so virtuous, washing dishes herself?"

I stiffened at Evgeny's voice. Turning, I found him blocking the doorway, leaning against the frame with casual arrogance.

"Excuse me," I tried to move past him. "I need to see Victor before he leaves."

Evgeny didn't budge. Instead, he moved closer, forcing me back against the counter. "You're so good, and Victor doesn't know how to treasure you," he said, his eyes roaming over me. "I think we could get to know each other better. I would definitely treat you better than my stepbrother does."

"You're insane. I'm your sister-in-law," I said firmly. "Please move."

He chuckled, reaching out to touch my hair. "Always so polite. Always the perfect little wife." His voice dropped lower. "If you were with me, I would appreciate every part of you." His eyes traveled deliberately over my body.

I knocked his hand away. "Stop it. Now."

"Or what?" he challenged, pressing his body against mine. "You'll tell Victor? He won't believe you."

"What do you mean?"

Evgeny's smile widened. "Why do you think he married you? Because his grandfather insisted?" He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "It was all arranged. Mother made sure the old man met you, made sure you were in position to 'save' him. All part of the plan."

I shook my head. "You're lying."

"Am I? Think about it. If Victor doesn't have an heir by forty, guess who gets everything?" His eyes gleamed. "Me. And Mother made sure you were the perfect wife—someone Victor would never love enough to have children with."

My hands gripped the counter behind me. Could it be true? Had my entire marriage been part of some scheme?

"Poor Vera," he whispered, his hand sliding up my arm. "Trapped in a loveless marriage... you must be desperate for attention."

"Get away from me!" I hissed, pushing against his chest.

He grabbed my wrists, pinning them to the counter. "Don't pretend you don't want this." He pressed his hips harder against mine. "I can give you what he can't."

"Let go!" I struggled against his grip.

"Just one kiss," he insisted, his face descending toward mine.

I twisted my head away, but he was stronger. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, a cold voice cut through the kitchen.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Evgeny instantly released me, stepping back with practiced casualness. Victor stood in the doorway, his face a mask of controlled fury.

"Nothing," Evgeny said smoothly. "Vera was just—"

"Vera was just what?" Victor's voice was lethal in its quietness.

Evgeny's expression transformed into innocent confusion. "She was upset about something, and I was comforting her. Then suddenly she threw herself at me." He shook his head. "When you came in, I was trying to push her away. I'm sorry, Victor. But it was definitely Vera who was seducing me."

"What?" I gasped. "That's not—"

"Shut up." Victor didn't raise his voice, but the command sliced through the air.

"I said shut up," Victor repeated. "Go to our bedroom. Now."

As I climbed the stairs, I heard Evgeny's voice behind me: "I really am sorry, Victor. But she was so persistent. Kept saying how lonely she was, how you neglected her."

I paced our bedroom for twenty minutes before the door opened. Victor entered, closing it softly—somehow more terrifying than if he'd slammed it.

"Victor," I began immediately, "whatever Evgeny told you is a lie. He—"

"From what I know of him, he would never lie to me," Victor coldly interrupted.

"He tried to force a kiss on me! I was pushing him away!"

Victor laughed without humor. "Is that so? He says you've been flirting with him for weeks."

"That's absurd!" I cried. "I avoid him whenever possible."

"And today?" Victor stepped closer, towering over me. "Did you avoid him when you followed him into the kitchen? When you pressed yourself against him?"

"I didn't follow him! I was there first!"

Victor's hand shot out, gripping my chin painfully. "Don't lie to me, you little whore. I warned you what would happen if you ever betrayed me."

Fear coursed through me—not just for myself, but for the tiny life inside me. "I would never betray you," I whispered.

"Why would I want Evgeny? He's nothing compared to you."

"Why would any woman betray her husband?" he asked bitterly. "Or perhaps you're just like my mother—a goddamn whore who can't keep her legs closed."

The crude reference to his birth mother stunned me.

"I am nothing like her," I said firmly.

Victor released my chin, pushing me backward until my legs hit the bed. "Prove it."

"What?"

"Prove your loyalty." His hands roughly unbuckled his belt. "Show me who you belong to."

This was how Victor dealt with emotional turmoil—through physical dominance, forcing me to show vulnerability while revealing none of his own.

"I am yours," I said quietly. "Only yours."

"Take off your clothes. Now."

I obeyed, removing each garment under his cold gaze. When I stood naked before him, he pushed me onto the bed.

"If I ever catch you looking at another man," he growled, positioning himself above me, "I will completely destroy you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Look at me," he commanded. "I want you to see who you belong to."

I opened my eyes, meeting his cold gaze as he entered me without gentleness.

"Who do you belong to?" he demanded.

"You. Only you, Victor."

"Say it again."

"I belong to you!"

Throughout this brutal encounter, I carefully guarded my secret, terrified of Victor discovering anything.

Afterward, Victor immediately pulled away and dressed with efficient movements.

"I have meetings today," he said, adjusting his tie. "Don't leave this house."

I nodded, pulling the sheet to cover myself.

He paused at the door. "Stay away from Evgeny. I don't care who started it—I won't tolerate rumors about my wife."

After he left, I stood under the shower until my skin turned red. The water couldn't wash away the fear that clung to me.

Exhausted, I returned to the bedroom and turned on the television.

The news caught my attention: "International supermodel Natalia Orlova returns to Moscow today after her successful appearance at Paris Fashion Week," the reporter announced as footage showed a stunning blonde woman descending from a private jet.

My heart sank. I knew exactly who Natalia was—Victor's ex-girlfriend, the woman he had planned to marry before his grandfather forced him to marry me instead. The woman he truly loved.

The camera zoomed in on her perfect face, her confident smile as she waved to the paparazzi. She looked exactly like the type of woman perfectly suited for Victor—sophisticated, beautiful, worldly.

I couldn't help myself and picked up my phone, sending Victor a message: [Did you go see her?]

He must went to see her！