Until Destiny Interfered

Lady Margaret stepped in.

Tall.

Cold.

Intimidating.

Her expression, unreadable.

Her gaze flicked from Vanessa... to Ivanna... then back to Vanessa again.

"Vanessa, you are here."

Lady Margaret's voice cut through the room like a drawn blade, cold, sharp, unwelcoming.

Vanessa stiffened immediately.

Even as a fully grown woman, she felt that familiar instinctive chill crawl up her spine.

Some habits never left; Margaret's presence had always commanded fear... and submission.

"Y-Yes," Vanessa replied with forced calm, straightening her posture.

"Yeah, Madam Margaret... I actually just got here," Vanessa said, forcing a cheerful smile though her voice wavered slightly. "I wanted to come see my brother's wife."

She let out a dry, nervous laugh.

Lady Margaret's cold eyes narrowed.

"Of course. A necessary courtesy. I'm just wondering, does your brother know you're here?"

"I... I wanted to surprise him," Vanessa replied, timid as a child caught stealing biscuits.

"Mm." Margaret's tone sharpened. "Well, surprise over. You've overstayed your welcome. She..." she jerked her chin toward Ivanna "...needs to come prepare lunch."

"Can I just have one more minute with her, you know, to say, hello?" She asked jokingly.

Her tone was clipped. "She has chores to complete. You are distracting her."

"Oh. Chores." Vanessa forced another shaky laugh. "It's... good you're teaching her how to cook."

Then, more sincerely, "Madam Margaret, she's not feeling well today. Couldn't you let her rest, just this once?"

"She looks perfectly fine to me," Margaret said in that cold, clipped tone that could slice flesh.

"And no, she can't pass. You should leave now, and return after getting your brother's consent."

"With all due respect, Lady Margaret, she looks terribly sick. She needs rest, not chores."

Ivanna's heart thudded anxiously.

This was the first time someone had spoken for her since she arrived.

The first time someone stood between her and the iceberg called Margaret.

But Margaret didn't even blink.

"She is recovering," she said coldly. "A little sweat is normal. And her fatigue is a consequence of her indiscipline."

Vanessa's brows shot up. "Indiscipline? She looks like she might collapse!"

"That is because she attempted to escape," Margaret replied calmly, as if discussing the weather.

Ivanna's breath caught in humiliation.

Vanessa whipped toward her, eyes widening in disbelief, but not judgment.

"You tried to escape?" she whispered sympathetically.

Ivanna bowed her head silently, shame washing over her again.

Margaret continued mercilessly, "She received a punishment appropriate for her action. And she survived. Now...she must continue her training."

Vanessa's lips parted in outrage.

"Training? She's my brother's wife, not a soldier!"

"LEAVE!" Lady Margaret barked her command.

Vanessa swallowed.

"O-Okay. I'll come back later then."

She took a step toward the door, visibly intimidated.

But unexpectedly, Ivanna reached out and grabbed her hand tightly, clinging to her like a drowning victim clutching driftwood. Her grip trembled. Her eyes pleaded.

Vanessa froze... then squeezed her hand gently, giving her a soft but reassuring look.

A silent message: I'll try.

Ivanna reluctantly released her, shoulders heavy.

Vanessa had barely taken another step when Margaret's voice cracked through the air:

"Your brother wants you in his office. Immediately."

Vanessa's eyes flew wide open.

"Oh my God...Madam Margaret, why did you tell on me?" she squeaked, horrified.

Margaret simply shrugged, bored.

"This isn't fair!" Vanessa huffed indignantly

..then stomped her foot and rushed out, muttering complaints under her breath.

The moment she was gone, Margaret turned back to Ivanna with a glare sharp enough to stab.

"You think she can save you?" she sneered. "Don't deceive yourself. Get up. Lunch won't cook itself. Move your lazy butt to the kitchen."

"B-but... I don't feel well today... can I not cook...just today?"

"I said no." Her voice thundered like a gavel. "Don't get on my nerves. Get to the kitchen this instant."

Ivanna tried again, "B-but-"

"One more word and I'll double your punishment."

Ivanna stiffened, then released a long, defeated exhale.

She dragged herself up, legs shaky, and slowly trudged toward the kitchen like a prisoner being led back to her cell.

Vanessa sat stiffly in the large office, wringing her hands on her lap.

Her brother stood with his back to her, rigid, tense, his aura cold enough to chill the room.

When he finally spoke, his voice cracked like thunder:

"Did I not tell you not to go to the castle?!"

Vanessa flinched.

"You said it was under reconstruction... I just wanted to see. You didn't tell me you were hiding your wife."

"Shut up!" he snapped, spinning around with eyes blazing. "I warned you, Vanessa! Stay out of my business! If I say no one goes to the house, then NO ONE goes there! Why must you poke your nose into everything?!"

He slammed a hand onto his desk.

"This minute...you're packing your bags and going back to California."

"What?! But I literally just got here!"

"I don't care. I don't give a damn. Get out...and don't ever show up unannounced again. Do you hear me?!"

"But Eugene..."

He froze.

Then inhaled sharply, as if she had stabbed him in the chest.

"What... did you just call me?" he growled.

Vanessa shrank back.

"But that's your name. I don't know why you hate it so much...your wife calls you by that name, so why can't I?"

His jaw tensed.

No, locked.

"Vanessa," he said dangerously low, "you're walking on a very thin line. I am already furious. Do not push me further. Get. Out."

"But big brother..." her voice softened into a pleading whisper. "Can't I stay a little longer? I really like your wife. She's so beautiful and kind. I really, really like her. Can't I stay with her? Please?"

He scoffed.

"Who? Ivanna?"

"Yes! Is that her name? It's beautiful. I didn't even get to ask because Lady Margaret was... terrifying."

Vanessa pouted, then frowned.

"She forced Ivanna to cook even though she's sick. Big brother... are you aware your wife isn't feeling well?"

Eugene's voice cut through the office like ice. "Are you done gossiping? Then leave. You got here five minutes ago and you know nothing about her, so spare me the lectures."

He turned back to the mountain of files on his desk, burying the interruption in paperwork.

"But, big brother-" Vanessa began, clutching at the frayed edge of the moment.

"See yourself to the door," he snapped without looking up. "I am far too busy for this."

Vanessa bristled, but the question she had been chewing on would not die. "Why are you hiding her? Why didn't anyone know you were married?"

Eugene's pen paused mid-ink. "I told you I don't have time for-" He closed his mouth. His tone hardened. "Do not get on my nerves."

Vanessa rolled her eyes, mortified and furious by turns, and moved for the door. Eugene watched her go for a beat, then added, voice low and dangerous, "And Vanessa... if you breathe a word of this to mother or father, you will regret it. This is my business. Stay out of it."

She slammed the door behind her and the sound echoed like an accusation. For a long second Eugene simply sat, the pen slipping from his fingers as thought crowded in like a storm.

Nicolas cleared his throat as he entered, the interruption drawing Eugene's attention away from an ache he hadn't expected.

"Everything all right, sir?" Nicolas asked, eyeing the tightness in his boss's jaw.

Eugene rubbed his temple, then exhaled. "She's sick, supposedly."

"It's possible," Nicolas said evenly. "Given who's overseeing her care, it would be a miracle if she weren't unwell."

A bitter laugh escaped Eugene. "Do you think I should see her? Take her to a hospital?" He paused, tasting the memory of the last time... the slap like a red-flagged wound in his memory. "No. I don't think that's wise. Last time I tried to intervene she slapped me. Imagine that."

Nicolas's eyes flicked, curious.

Eugene looked into the distance, something like wonder and irritation wrestling behind his gaze.

"Vanessa can be childish. And yet-" he cut himself off, an inscrutable half-smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "She called Ivanna 'nice'... and 'beautiful.'"

He spoke the words slowly, testing them aloud. "Beauty alone should have made her marketable. So why did every man refuse? Why do the rumors say no one wanted her? It doesn't add up. Her family has wealth, she's astonishing to look at...there must be more."

Nicolas stepped closer, report folder in hand. "Sir, our background checks show contradictory signals. There are rumors she deliberately disguises herself, turns up on dates unrecognizable. Some sources suggest she pushes men away, others say she's uninterested in marriage. It's inconsistent."

Eugene's expression sharpened, curiosity flaring into strategy. He tapped the pen against the wood, thoughts moving like gears. "Perhaps she's deliberately repellent. Or waiting for someone. Perhaps a lover or something. Or... maybe there's something else we don't know. People hide the strangest truths. You know like lesbianism for instance?"

"Am not so sure of that." Nicolas answered truthfully.

He leaned forward, the decision settling like iron. "Okay then... I want everything on Ivanna.

Her social history. Past acquaintances, lovers, friends, every message, every invitation, every photograph. Check school records, social feeds, travel logs. Find every footstep she's taken for the last five years. Cross-reference everything. If she's hiding anything, I want it uncovered."

Nicolas inclined his head. "Right away, sir."

"And run it quietly," Eugene added, voice low and final. "No leaks. If this marriage is a problem, I will handle the consequences. If it's a puzzle... solve it."

Nicolas had barely reached the door when Eugene's voice stopped him again, low, uncertain, and unlike anything he'd heard from the prince.

"Nicolas... come here a moment."

Nicolas turned, wary. Eugene wasn't looking at him; he was staring at the floor, fingers clenched on the edge of the desk as though steadying something inside himself.

"Is it possible," Eugene began slowly, "that Lady Margaret might actually kill her? For real. Did I go too far involving... extreme methods? Because this entire conflict is between me and her parents. Maybe...maybe I shouldn't have dragged her into it. Should I just let her go?"

The question hung in the air, fragile and foreign coming from him.

Nicolas folded his hands behind his back. "Sir... according to the strategy drafted to handle the Sean family, Ivanna is our leverage. If Plan A fails, she becomes Plan B. The Sean family is not a group we can topple easily. We need something that forces their hand."

Eugene didn't move, so Nicolas pressed on.

"And besides... you said yourself you'd use her as a..." he cleared his throat, choosing the word carefully, "...distraction... you know, like a plaything, while we execute our main objectives."

"I said that?" Eugene's head snapped up, confusion...then disbelief...then discomfort flashing across his face.

"That doesn't sound like me." He rubbed his palm over his chest as though something there unnerved him.

"And besides... that girl doesn't look to me like someone anyone can toy with just like that. She is as stubborn as a goat. Even Lady Margaret hasn't broken her spirit, and Margaret breaks grown men."

He hesitated, expression tightening.

"She's just a girl, and yet... I can't figure it out."

Another pause. "I don't like how this feels. Putting her through pain..." He stopped, jaw tense. "It's making me restless. As if something in me is... revolting against it."

Nicolas blinked, this was new.

Eugene dragged a hand through his hair, restless. "You know I'm not a monster, Nicolas. What her parents did... what they cost me...it was unforgivable. I want them to experience the same helplessness. That is justice."

His voice softened, unexpectedly raw.

"But Ivanna... she's innocent. And she's also their softest spot. Hurting her hurts them. So my path should be clear... but..." He broke off and stood abruptly. "I don't know. I just don't know."

He took two steps forward but stopped again, conflicted.

"I think... I need to see her. Vanessa said she wasn't doing well. Maybe I should check."

Nicolas froze. Something clicked in his mind like falling dominoes.

"Sir..." he said cautiously, "forgive my boldness but... are you, by any chance... falling for Miss Ivanna?"

Eugene spun around so fast it startled even himself.

"Falling? Hell. No." His denial was loud, too loud. "How could you even say that? She is the daughter of the people who cost me the most PAIN! She is not my type. Not at all."

He flailed for logic, then added, almost angrily..."Yes, she is beautiful, obviously, but life is more than a pretty face and..." he swallowed, voice cracking for a fraction of a second, "...and maybe a nice body."

Nicolas's brow lifted. "It's only that you speak... differently when the topic concerns her."

"I DO NOT like her," Eugene snapped, color rising in his neck as he walked back to his seat and grabbed a document. "Daughter of my enemy? That's ridiculous. Leave."

Nicolas bowed slightly and exited, the door shutting softly behind him.

For a moment, the office was silent, heavy.

Then Eugene dropped the folder he'd been pretending to read. His posture crumpled ever so slightly, his expression twisting into a grimace, equal parts frustration, fear, and something dangerously close to... yearning.

He whispered to the empty room.

"What the hell was that?"

After Nicolas exit... Eugene sat a moment longer, alone with an unfamiliar thought: he was unexpectedly, uncomfortably invested. He pushed it away and rose, straightening his jacket, the mask of command sliding back into place.

Outside, the world went on, but in the castle, new investigations had already been set in motion.