Chapter 3

Chapter 3-The Widow’s refusal

Marriage. The word echoed through her ears and mind. It didn’t make any sense. She was still in mourning. According to psychologists, widows tend to suffer a small stage of delirium through their grief. Victoria posed what she just heard as that—her mind playing games with her.

“Toria.” Her mother muttered from behind her, “It’s for the best. Marrying Vincent is for—

“Marriage?” She cut her off, “This isn’t a joke?!”

Frank frowned, “No it’s not. Sit down Victoria.”

She wanted to yell at her father-in-law, tell them all that they were out of their damned minds, but even a new widow like her knew her place in the family. She did as she was told, sat back down whilst brushing off her tears which glided down effortlessly.

Gillian Moretti, Her father, cleared his throat before speaking again, “We know this is hard on you but it’s for the best. Maximof is gone, bless his soul, but with his position vacant there’s too much at stake between both families. Vincent is next in line, it only makes sense youre transferred to the next Morano.”

Transfer. They spoke of her like she was some piece of property, just to be given to another man minutes after her husband was just put underground. They acted like Maximof wasn’t human, no sign of empathy whatsoever.

She knew the family she married into and was a part of, although she’d wished her circumstances were a little bit different. The Morano’s and the Moretti’s were too powerful for her to just refuse.

She turned to face him, Vincent, his eyes were cold and unbecoming. Maximof wasn’t a man of many words but he was a warm-hearted human, a man who always smiled just to make her day brighter and comfortable. Whereas, his brother, a stone cold heartless human who barely cared about his death remained void.

She gulped hard, “You can’t do this to me.”

“It’s out of the question.” Frank replied, “Maximof is gone. There is too much at stake right now. You have to marry Vincent.”

A thunder clapped as soon as the news landed on her again, as if on cue. Victoria turned to face him for the second time, the man behind it all. He didn’t look shocked by the news, calm….to calm for her liking.

“Did you know about this?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes.”

She pressed her lips tightly, turning to the rest of the family, “Can I speak to him alone?”

Silence befell the room, it didn’t take long before Frank signaled everyone to leave. The door creaked a little before finally shutting out. Victoria couldn’t help but take a deep breath, for some reason the room felt suffocating, despite the generous ventilation to on from the huge widows concealed by sheer drapes. He remained at position, those eyes of his calculating…plotting. It felt like staring at danger in its face.

“Say something.” She begged, her voice was hoarse.

He ignored her request, instead getting up and walking towards his father’s shelf which had an array of strong liquor. He poured himself a glass of bourbon, one ice cube to go with it, and returned back to his seat. Victoria’s eyes stung from watching him alone, unable to fathom how a man could be so dismissive of the chaos unbecoming in front of him.

“I don’t want to marry you.” She finally said.

Staring at his liquor, “You don’t have a choice.”

She scoffed, “So, he speaks.”

Vincent finally rose his eyes to look at her, she almost stumbled from how intense his warning gaze was. Gulping hard, she raked a hand through her hair after taking off her hat, “For God’s sake in a widow. I’m your brother’s wife. I’m still in mourning. The least you could do is care about his legacy!!”

“I don’t care about things that don’t exist.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me correctly,” His brow perked, “My brother has no legacy.”

The urge to slap him again filled her terribly, “How dare you. How dare you come in here and—

“I’ll repeat myself,” Cutting her off, “Your husband has no legacy. You failed to provide the family with an heir. All Maximof left is a load of baggage and a widow no one wants, I’m doing you a favor by wanting to take you in.”

Victoria blinked, exasperatedly, unable to listen to the fallacies that spewed out of his mouth—her future husband, referring to her as nothing but a ‘favor’ and ‘baggage’. She felt sick to her stomach, wanting nothing more than to be away from this man.

“I’m no favor.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, his sister-in-law was exactly as his father described, only she was worse but with a rather pretty face he wouldn’t mind staring at a little bit more. She was a widow, with droopy eyes that had seen happier days, and a face as pale as that of a Victorian child ridden with influenza.

It didn’t change anything nonetheless. The widow was a beautiful woman.

“It doesn’t matter what you think.” He rose from his chair and adjusted his suit, “You have no say in this matter anyway. You’re a pawn, a liability, your husband—my brother, is nothing but a failure and I’m here to clean up his mess.”

“Damn you.” She wanted to scream but her words came out as a soft cry instead, when she grabbed a paper weight and hurled it at him. He dodged it impeccably.

Those eyes gazed upon her again—calculating, wicked, somewhat calm and ravaging at the same time. He grabbed a cigar from his pocket, a lighter followed suit seconds later.

“Mourn your loss, prepare whatever you can. I’ll see you at the chapel sister-in-law.”