Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Alajos stood on the open space in front of the warehouse, winding bloodstains spreading to his feet. Emmert was leading his men to drag the bodies away.

Simpson’s voice came through the phone, “What a pity for this McLaren…”

“Don’t let him die.” Alajos, with a cold expression, tossed the slightly heated handgun to Emmert and walked towards the car parked in front of the warehouse.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he stays alive for you,” Simpson assured. They pried open the car door; the driver and the assistant in front had already been confirmed dead. The bodyguard pinning Richard underneath still had a breath left. Simpson’s men first dragged the bodyguard out, and the unexpected incident occurred at that moment.

With crimson eyes, Richard revealed the hand grenade at his waist, “Let’s die together!”

“You bastard!” Simpson roared and, at an inhuman speed, clamped Richard’s hand reaching for the fuse.

Richard had only one thought: not to fall into Alajos’s hands, not into theirs. He would suffer more than death!

A fear more terrifying than death enveloped Richard’s mind, causing him to let out a desperate roar. But having just experienced a brutal car accident, his body was already in ruins. He couldn’t resist Simpson’s formidable strength. His arm reaching for the fuse was twisted into a gruesome position by brute force.

Crack!

“Ah!” Richard’s cries of agony and the sound of bones breaking rang out simultaneously as Simpson forcibly snapped his arm.

“Don’t worry, your time to die will come,” Simpson said, dragging him out of the car compartment by his broken bones.

Richard fell to the ground, clutching his arm, almost unable to cry out.

Simpson, finding his hands dirty, wiped them meticulously with a damp tissue before Richard nearly lost his breath, then had a doctor brought in for emergency treatment.

On the other side, Vilem had also finished his battle. He had personally handled the people left behind at the port, and Festus had been a great help.

“Thanks,” Vilem said, holstering his gun.

“Don’t mention it,” Festus said, putting away his computer. “I’ll bring people over tomorrow to install the new firewall.”

“Good,” Vilem said, taking off his gloves, revealing hands covered in scars, some already oozing blood. “Shelley is taking office tomorrow. You can come with her.”

Mentioning Shelley softened Festus’s expression a lot, and his attitude towards Vilem became more affectionate. “She’s just arrived and might not be familiar with the port’s affairs. Please take good care of her.”

This slight change was enough to surprise Vilem. “You…”

Festus shyly smiled at him.

Vilem instantly understood and found it somewhat amusing. “Don’t worry.”

This long night had finally passed.

At eight in the morning, Vivian’s ward welcomed its first visitor.

It was Mare.

“Are you okay, Mare?” Vivian looked at him with concern.

Mare had cleaned himself up. Apart from the paleness brought on by blood loss and pain, he looked healthier than Vivian. “I’m fine, please don’t worry.”

Vivian had witnessed him being shot. How could she not worry? “You should rest.”

“Yes, I will,” Mare said, sitting down and holding his injured ribs. Every slight movement made him feel suffocating pain, but as Vivian’s bodyguard, he needed to stay by her side.

“You can leave the hospital tomorrow,” Alajos still wasn’t at ease with Vivian staying in the hospital. Hospitals were crowded places, and there could be too many accidents.

“I’ll go back to the apartment to continue recuperating,” Vivian had already discussed it with Alajos. “You can rest assured and stay in the hospital to recover. When you’re discharged, accompany me to Adieu.”

“Do you know about Adieu?” Mare had initially wanted to refuse the proposal to continue staying in the hospital, but Vivian, being clever, quickly changed the subject, diverting Mare’s thoughts.

“Yes,” Mare’s mind raced, quickly summarizing his knowledge of Adieu. “It’s a high-end bar under Alajos’s name, previously owned by Lady Helayna.”

Mare added, “Lady Helayna is Alajos’s mother.”

Vivian nodded, her knowledge matching what she had heard from Shelley.

“Have you been involved in managing Adieu?” Truth be told, Vivian wasn’t good at business management. Her education as a lady had only taught her how to please her husband. She didn’t understand bars or management. She urgently needed someone with knowledge to help her, and at the moment, Mare was her best choice.

“No,” unfortunately, Mare couldn’t give Vivian the answer she wanted. “Perhaps you can ask Alajos for advice,” Mare sincerely suggested.

Alright, the problem had returned to its original point, but it indeed was the best solution.

Vivian sighed, full of anticipation for taking over Adieu. She had a feeling that this was the first step towards her new life.

“I hope I can provide assistance to Alajos,” Vivian devoutly made a wish in her heart, “instead of continuing to be a burden to him.”

…

The incident of Vivian being attacked by the Bratva was not deliberately concealed. After all, the attack had occurred in the bustling downtown of Houston, and too many innocent people had been affected. Even if Alajos had intended to hide it, it wouldn’t have remained hidden for long.

News spreads quickly in the new era. Shortly after Vivian returned to her apartment, she received concern and condolences from various quarters. Some were genuinely concerned about her safety, such as Madame Yazmin, while others were undoubtedly testing the waters, such as members of the various families in Houston, large and small.

Vivian felt bothered by the calls, but she had to maintain a gracious demeanor, responding warmly and graciously to every genuine or false expression of concern, until she received a call from Los Angeles.

“I’m so glad to hear your voice again,” Vivian said excitedly, grasping the phone. “How are you, Luzia? I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, Vivian,” came Luzia’s slightly distorted voice from the phone, making Vivian keenly aware, once again, of the distance between them.

Vivian felt sad; her longing was uncontrollable at the moment, causing her heart to ache with a poignant pain.

“I heard about the attack on you, and I’m really worried about you. Are you okay?” Through the phone line, Luzia expressed her concern and apologies in a low voice. “I’m sorry I can’t be there with you.”

“It’s okay,” Vivian said. “I know you’re in a difficult situation. Joseph is a demon; he has imprisoned you, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“We can’t escape the chains of fate. I’ve told you before, I’ve resigned myself,” said Luzia, her voice unable to conceal her despondency and weariness.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Vivian bit her lip, feeling sad. “Aren’t you resentful? To accept this fate, to be locked up and let yourself fall into endless hell.”

“No,” Luzia gritted her teeth, hesitating and struggling. Perhaps the buried resentment was surfacing in her struggle, and Luzia squeezed out a sentence from between her teeth, “Occasionally, just occasionally, I still feel resentful.”

Emphasizing the “occasionally,” Luzia’s voice conveyed a desperate, hoarse howl from the depths of her heart. She kept questioning, “Why? Why?”

Yes, why? Why should they be born to be played with by men like toys, why should they be deprived of the right to freedom, and why should they become men’s tools for reproduction, living a life controlled and exploited in the dark.