The fire in the hearth was the only warm thing in the room.
Victoria sat in the high-backed velvet chair, looking like a queen passing a death sentence. A stack of photos sat on the table. Grainy, low-light shots of Adrien carrying her into the bathroom.
"Explain," she said.
"She had a medical episode," Adrien said. He was standing straight, hands clasped behind his back.
"Does medical protocol involve ripping her clothes?" Victoria tapped a photo. "This is leverage, Adrien. For your enemies. The stock will drop ten percent by morning if this leaks."
"It won't leak," Adrien said.
"It already has," Victoria lied smoothly. "Unless we control the narrative."
She looked at her. "You are a Howe. Your family is ruined, but the bloodline is old. Acceptable."
"Acceptable for what?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Marriage," Victoria said.
"What?" Adrien and she shouted in unison.
"It solves everything," Victoria continued, ignoring them. "It explains the cohabitation. It explains the intimacy. It turns a sordid affair into a passionate romance. The public loves a redemption arc."
"I won't do it," Adrien said.
"Then I freeze your voting rights," Victoria said calmly. "I will back the board's motion to oust you."
Adrien went still. That was his death sentence.
Victoria turned to her. "And you, dear. If you agree, I will make a call. Alfred will be moved to a private cottage on the estate grounds. You can see him every day."
Her heart stopped. Alfred. Safe.
She looked at Adrien. He was staring at her, his eyes pleading no. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be tied to her.
But she saw the file in her mind. The trust. The secrets. If she was his wife... she would own half of it. She would have access.
"I'll do it," she said.
"Clarice!" Adrien snarled. "Are you insane?"
"For Alfred," she said, looking him in the eye. "I would walk through fire. Even hell."
"Excellent," Victoria said, standing up. "The jet is ready. We go to the courthouse tomorrow."
She left them alone.
Adrien walked up to her. He loomed over her, his shadow consuming her.
"You think you've won?" he whispered. "You think this is a game?"
"I think," she said, stepping closer until their chests touched, "that I'm tired of being the victim, Adrien."
"Fine," he said, his lip curling. "You want to be Mrs. Sargent? Then you better be ready for the duties that come with it."
"Bring it on, darling," she said.
