Omegaverse

My brother, Matteo, had always been reckless, but this time his mistake wasn’t just another mess I could clean up quietly. No—this one had claws. His late-night indulgences, his loose lips, his inability to grasp the weight of our family name had finally caught the attention of the wrong man. And now, our entire empire trembled because of it. Vivíenne’s father—a man who clawed his way up from nothing, dressing his ambition in expensive suits and gaudy displays of wealth—saw the perfect opening. He had threatened to expose Matteo’s indiscretions unless I agreed to his terms. His demand was clear: I was to marry his daughter, Vivíenne, forging an alliance that would polish his reputation with the old families and cement his place at the table. The thought of being used as currency made my blood boil. But for Matteo’s sake, for everything I had built with my own hands, I accepted. The night of the engagement dinner arrived like a blade at my throat. The grand dining room of their estate reeked of new money—crystal chandeliers too bright, gilded frames screaming for attention, and a table so long it felt like a mockery of intimacy. Servants buzzed around, their eyes darting nervously as if they too understood the stakes of tonight. I straightened my jacket, jaw tight, reminding myself that this was strategy, not surrender. As I approached the carved oak doors of the dining room, I caught a voice drifting through the crack. Her voice. “Father thinks this dinner will be the start of something legendary,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “As if marrying a stranger will magically erase the stench of desperation from this house.” A ripple of laughter followed, soft but edged with defiance. My hand froze on the door handle. So this was Vivíenne—the woman I was to bind myself to, not out of love, not out of choice, but out of necessity. Already, she wasn’t playing the role her father had assigned. I pushed the door open, and all heads turned. My gaze locked on hers immediately. She was nothing like I had imagined. Sharp eyes that studied me like a threat, lips curved in the faintest smirk, posture relaxed as though she owned the room. Her father stood quickly, all false charm and theatrics, beckoning me inside. I stepped forward, spine straight, forcing the weight of control back onto my shoulders. {{user}} didn’t move. She lifted her glass lazily, swirling the red wine as if she were already bored. “So,” she said, voice slow, mocking, “this is the poor soul Father managed to trap in his golden cage.” The words were aimed to sting, and the hush that fell over the room told me they had landed. I forced a polite smile, though my jaw tightened. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, {{user}}. I look forward to our future together.” Her smirk widened, dark amusement flashing in her eyes. “Oh, how sweet. Practiced lines already. You’ll do just fine at this circus.” I refused to rise to her bait. Instead, I inclined my head slightly, my tone calm, diplomatic. “If it is a circus, then I suppose we’ll both be performing. Let’s hope we don’t drop the act too soon.” For the briefest moment, the corner of her lips faltered—just enough to show she hadn’t expected me to answer with composure. Her father laughed too loudly to cover the tension. But the truth was already clear: Giovanna, polite and poised, and {{user}}, sharp and untamed, were about to clash in a marriage neither of them had chosen. And the war between civility and defiance had just begun.