SIX

NIKOLAI POV:

Silence ruled my office. The heavy curtains were drawn halfway, allowing only a sliver of sunlight to touch the marbled floor. I was seated at my massive oak desk, a half-drunk cup of coffee growing cold beside my laptop. The screen before me was frozen, the words on the email blinking—taunting me.

The media was eating Katie up, but she had managed to get away from them without giving them any information or anything.

"VOSS BRIDE STEALS THE SHOW AT LUXURY MALL"

"MEET KATE VOSS: THE NEW QUEEN OF VOSS EMPIRE?"

"IS THIS THE REAL BRIDE? WHERE IS RHEA VALDEZ?"

There were ten more headlines just like it, flooding every tabloid blog and social feed. Photos of Kate walking confidently into the mall, flanked by a Voss-appointed maid, head held high in elegance. Wearing that damned soft cream dress, sunglasses too big for her face, and an expression that screamed untouchable.

The Voss card. My personal car. My name.

And not once had she asked for permission. Della had managed to convince my Driver to take her to the mall instead of driving me to work.

The audacity.

I should have been furious. Should have had her dragged back to this mansion and reminded of the little charade she signed up for. But instead, I sat there, transfixed by the image of her on that screen. Unbothered. Elegant. Almost regal.

I didn't want to do that to her. Not yet though. She and her Family will still pay for what they all did to me. One after the other.

She had no idea what she was doing to me.

My phone buzzed on the desk. My assistant, Jeremy.

“Sir, the photos have gone viral. She’s trending.”

“No shit,” I muttered. "I can see them, Jeremy. I have the Internet too."

“I’ve flagged most of the media outlets and sent takedown requests. But it’s only a matter of time before someone starts digging deeper. About Rhea.”

My teeth clenched. “Get the legal department on the line. I want every last article scrubbed. If they don't comply, we sue. Personal invasion, identity falsification, defamation. I don't care what you call it—just make it go away.”

“Understood, Mr. Voss.”

I ended the call and tossed the phone on the couch across the room. My fingers dug into the edge of the desk. I hate the media so much, ruining Kate's image right now, would ruin mine too.

This wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was very simple.

Kate was supposed to stay in the shadows. Quiet. Invisible. Just a placeholder. A name on a certificate and a face behind a veil. She was never meant to be seen—and certainly not like that. She was not meant to enjoy the freedom of life. I wanted her to suffer.

But she looked…beautiful.

I hated that it even crossed my mind.

"Mr. Voss?" A voice called out, knocking on my door. "Come in,"I said.

An unfamiliar face walked into the office. I don't even remember employing him. "Good day sir, I'm the new intern for the finance department, and I'm here to introduce myself to you."

I took a few seconds to stare at him, he had a tiny physique and face that fits his body. "Your name?"

"Tristan, sir. Tristan Mosley." he said, his head lowered to the floor.

"Welcome, Tristan. Word of advice, don't lower your head when talking to a superior or anyone, it's seen as a sign of weakness. Meet their gaze and show them respect. You may leave."

He gave a slight nod and left the office closing the door gently like it would break in his hands. I threw myself into more office work, the Milan deal was finally having a break through just like I thought it would.

I took an hour and thirty minutes to go through my unread emails, filing and sorting the important ones and the ones I could throw in the bin.

My phone buzzed on the couch, I stood up to get it and it was Jeremy again. "What do you want?"

"Sir, the PR team are trying to work their way through and get all the videos and posts about Mrs. Voss deleted. And the marketing team needs your signature on a few documents that you have to proofread first. I'll be sending them into your office in a few minutes." He said, all in one breathe.

"Is that all?" I asked through the phone.

"For now, Yes sir. I would let you know if anything else comes up." He said, ending the call.

Jeremy has been my assistant for over five years now, he knows how to do his job well unlike most of the people lingering around my company building.

After few minutes, the files was being brought in my Tristan, which I proofread and and signed. And passed it back to him. I thought he was in th Finance department?

After what felt like two more hours going to files and documents, I got up from my office chair ready to go home.

I took the Elevator down and headed out of the company to the company's car pack. "Ready to leave, Sir?"

"Yes, take me back home." I got into the car and he drove off.

We got into the mansion and I got of the car, and made my way into it.

With a frustrated breath, I stood and headed for the hallway. I needed to clear my head. Working at the office had brought a toil on me. Della had gone to supervise the kitchen staff, and the help tiptoed around me like I was a coiled snake.

I stopped at the foyer, hearing the faint hum of an engine pulling into the driveway.

She was back. She had spent almost a day shopping with my credit card. God knows what on earth she was buying.

I didn’t know why I waited there.

I leaned casually on the banister, pulling out my phone, pretending to scroll. I positioned myself perfectly, phone angled in front of my face, like I wasn’t paying attention. But my eyes were fixed on the entrance. I was waiting for her to come in.

The front doors swung open. She walked in. Bags filled her hands and that of the maid behind her.

Kate.

She dropped the bags and removed her sunglasses slowly, shaking out her hair like she had just stepped off a runway. The maid behind her was carrying bags, so many bags, from the most exclusive designer stores. A familiar Voss card black glint peeked from the paper tags. Chanel. Elie Saab. Givenchy. Louis Vuitton.

I was really curious to know what and what she had gotten. But we haven't spoken a word in a while and I doubt she's willing to talk to me.

She didn’t even glance in my direction.

Not a blink. Not a twitch. As though I didn’t exist. Like I was a painting on the wall.

She passed me by.

The scent of jasmine and vanilla clung to the air she left behind.

My jaw clenched.

She was playing a dangerous game.

Later that evening, I stood at my window, staring at the garden with a glass of scotch in hand. The sun was slowly sinking, casting a warm golden light over the estate. And there she was.

Kate.

Down in the garden again, on her knees in the soil, planting roses.

My roses. She had left the ones she planted the other day and was on my side of the garden.

The ones Rhea had said she would never touch. Kate’s hair was tied in a loose ponytail, soft strands falling against her cheek as she moved with care—delicate hands pressing seeds into the earth like it was something sacred.

I should have looked away. But I didn’t.

She didn’t see me.

Or maybe she did.

And just didn’t care.

I stepped back from the window, downing the rest of the scotch in a single, burning gulp.

The door creaked, and I turned to see Della enter, her face soft and motherly as always.

“Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes,” she said gently. “Would you like the chef to prepare your usual?”

“Whatever he makes is fine, as long as it tastes good.”

She eyed me for a long second. “She’s adjusting.”

“She shouldn’t be adjusting,” I snapped, sharper than I intended. “She shouldn’t be here. She ruined my life and my company, she doesn't get the right to adjust perfectly well.”

“She is here,” Della replied calmly. “And she’s trying. It's not her fault. She did what was best for her family. I think you and her are alike.”

I said nothing.

“You’re angry because she’s not afraid of you,” Della added after a pause. “That’s why you keep watching her when you think no one notices. But we do notice.”

“I’m not watching her. I'm just waiting for the perfect moment to strike and use her to get what I had lost to her father.”

“Of course not,” she said, smiling. “Will you be dining in the main room or your study?”

“My study. I don't want to see her face, it reminds me of what she had done.”

She nodded and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Della?” I said as she paused at the doorway.

“Yes?”

“Tell legal I want every single story about her gone by tomorrow morning.”

Her smile faded. “Understood.”

When she left, I turned back to the window.

Kate had gone.

But I could still smell jasmine. It filled the air.