Chapter 52 Claudia's visit
Rapheal's POV
The third year of our marriage should have been easier. By all accounts, it was.
Vivienne had proven herself ten times over to the board, to Marseille's elite, to everyone who'd once whispered that she was just a nobody I'd married out of desperation.
But Claudia had other plans.
I should have known she wouldn't stay quiet forever. Three years of watching from the sidelines, three years of seeing Vivienne succeed where she had failed, three years of our marriage growing stronger while her bitterness festered like an open wound.
The morning started like any other. I was at my desk before sunrise, reviewing the quarterly reports. The Le Blanc deal was finally moving forward after months of negotiations, but something in section seven still bothered me. The wording was too vague, the loopholes too obvious to anyone who knew where to look.
I was so focused on the documents that I didn't hear my office door open.
"Raphael."
That voice. Honey and venom mixed together in a way that used to intrigue me. Now it just made my jaw clench.
I didn't look up. "The building doesn't open for another hour, Claudia. How did you get in?"
"I still have shares in this company, darling. That comes with certain privileges." Her heels clicked across the marble floor, each step deliberate and calculated. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you. Privately. Before your... wife arrives."
The way she said 'wife' made it sound like an insult.
I set down my pen but kept my eyes on the documents. "We have nothing to discuss."
"Don't we?" She was closer now. I could smell her perfume—expensive, cloying, nothing like the subtle lavender scent Vivienne wore.
"I've been patient, Raphael. Three years I've waited. Three years I've watched you play house with that nobody."
"Careful." The word came out low, dangerous.
"A nobody for a wife? Really?" She laughed, and it was sharp enough to cut.
"That's what she is, Raphael. What she's always been. You plucked her from whatever slum she crawled out of and dressed her up in designer clothes. But we both know what's underneath all that polish."
My hands curled into fists on the desk.
"You need to leave. Now."
"This is pathetic, even for you." She crossed the room with that predatory grace she'd perfected over the years—the walk that said she knew exactly what she's doing.
"Get out." I still hadn't looked at her. If I looked at her, I might say something I'd regret. Or worse, do something I'd regret.
"She's nothing, Raphael." Claudia's voice turned sharper, meaner. "A nobody you plucked from the slums to—"
"I said get out!"
I shot to my feet, finally meeting her eyes. Whatever she saw in my face made her take a step back. Good. She should be afraid.
"The only reason you're still working here is because you still have shares in this company," I said, each word precise and cold. "Don't push me too hard, Claudia. Don't make me find a way to make sure you lose them."
For a moment, we stared at each other across the desk. The woman I'd once called mother. The woman who had nearly destroyed me with her games and manipulations. She and her conniving son bribed the board members to push me into marriage thinking I couldn't do it. And now she's trying to disrespect the woman that agreed to marry me even though it's just for a while.
"You'll regret this," she said quietly.
"Get. Out."
She left, finally, her heels clicking angrily against the floor.
The door slammed behind her.
I sank back into my chair, my heart pounding. My hands were shaking slightly as I reached for my coffee cup. The liquid had gone cold, bitter on my tongue.
Damn Claudia. Damn her for coming back, for trying to poison what Vivienne and I had built.
The door opened again—softer this time, careful.
"Is it safe to come in?"
Vivienne stood in the doorway, and just the sight of her steadied something inside me. She held two fresh cups of coffee, steam rising from both. Her hair was pulled back in a simple bun, and she wore the navy suit I'd told her made her look like she could run the world.
She'd seen Claudia leave. The tightness around her eyes told me she'd probably heard every word.
"You don't have to knock," I said, managing a smile that felt almost genuine.
"You're my wife now, remember?"
"I know." She moved into the room with that quiet confidence she'd developed over the past three years. "But I just want to be sure you're in the right mood to receive anyone."
She set both coffee cups on my desk—black with two sugars for me, the way I liked it. The way she'd memorized it.
"And in case you've forgotten," she added, settling into the chair across from me wi
th a slight smile, "I'm your contracted wife. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
I studied her face—this woman who'd agreed to marry me three years ago to save my business from falling into the wrong hands. At the time, I'd needed a wife quickly, someone beyond Claudia's reach. It had been a simple transaction. A business deal. One year, the contract had said. One year of pretending to be happily married, and then we'd quietly divorce.
That had been three years ago.
The contract had expired. We'd never renewed it, never discussed it. We'd just... kept going. I kept waking up in the same bed. Kept working side by side. Kept being married.
Three years of what everyone said was bliss.
Now she wore my grandmother's ring like it had always belonged to her. Now she carried my last name with pride. Now she was mine in every way that mattered.
"Because right now," I said quietly, "you're the only person in this building I trust."
Something shifted in her expression—a softening around her eyes, a slight curve to her lips. "The Le Blanc deal. You're still worried about the clause in section seven."
It wasn't a question. Of course she knew.
She always knew.