Somewhere deep in the countryside of Austria, nestled in the quiet of endless golden fields, stood a grand villa, isolated and opulent. Inside its master chamber—where moonlight spilled in from tall windows and danced across satin sheets—two naked bodies lay tangled in the stillness of post-desire. The man, with sharp blue eyes and dark brown hair, held the woman tightly against his chest, one hand lazily tracing the curve of her breast.
She purred like a cat in the warmth of his arms, pressing herself closer.
"When are we going to get married, my love?" she asked, her voice soft and sleep-tinged.
Maximilian Voclain looked down at her, his gaze uncharacteristically warm. Gone was the cold, ruthless politician known to the world; here, in this bed, he was something else. Someone else.
"You know I love you, Sophie," he murmured, voice like velvet—soothing and tender. "And now that we're near the end of this war, once we've removed every obstacle in our way, I'll announce you publicly as my wife."
Sophie sighed, her golden hair splayed across his chest. "I don't know if I can wait that long," she whispered. "I want to be the next Lady of the Voclain family. I want to stand beside you without hiding… without fear."
Maximilian's hand stilled, his fingers slipping from her breast to wrap around her slender back. He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her forehead.
"Never doubt it, Sophie," he said. "You won't just be the Lady of Voclain. I will make you the Matriarch of the Trévér family as well. It is your birthright."
She pouted, unconvinced. "You speak as though my mother can be defeated. Do you know how stubborn she is? Alina Trévér isn't going down without tearing the world with her."
Maximilian chuckled, the sound low and cruel. "Alina is standing at the edge of her own grave. She's losing this war, and soon, she'll make a mistake—one I've been patiently waiting for. That will be the end of her. When she falls, you'll be the only one left standing. The only one who matters."
"Are you… going to kill all my siblings too?" Sophie asked. "I mean… I kind of like the little one. He's cute. Even if he's always alone."
"He's just a child. Three, right?" Maximilian said with a shrug. "If you want him spared, we can erase his memory and send him to another country. Out of reach and of sight."
Sophie smiled, her eyes sparkling. "That's a brilliant idea."
They kissed again—deeper this time, lips crashing, tongues dancing, until both were breathless and gasping in each other's arms.
When they finally pulled apart, Maximilian stroked her hair and asked, "So… what's Alina doing now? What are her plans?"
Sophie raised a brow. "Are you trying to turn me into your personal spy?"
His only answer was another kiss, long and lingering, until her cold stare melted away in his hands.
"She doesn't plan much," Sophie eventually said, her voice distant. "She just gives orders out of nowhere. She doesn't consult anyone. And she especially hates being questioned."
"And you?" he asked. "Are you ever involved in those plans?"
Sophie shook her head. "No. She gives her commands and then moves on like we're tools—objects. She never loved any of us. Not really. The only child she ever truly cared about was Roman. And he's gone."
A flicker of disgust passed through her expression.
"She doesn't care if we live or die," Sophie continued. "One of her daughters—one she had with some lover—died just months ago. Starved to death. Left to rot right after birth."
Maximilian frowned. "Why?"
"Because she was born with black skin," Sophie whispered. "She got it from her father, obviously. When mother saw her, she just said: 'Remove her. Never show her to me again.' And that was it."
"What a cold mother," Maximilian muttered, shaking his head. "So… she's just busy managing her harem of boy toys now?"
Sophie snorted. "You have no idea. Every weekend, she throws parties and fills the manor with young men. She sleeps with all of them. The whole night."
Maximilian blinked. "All of them? One woman? Many men… in the same room?"
"Oh yes," Sophie replied, almost bored. "The noises echo through the entire estate. That's why most of us avoid staying at the manor on weekends. No one wants to hear that."
"And Charles?" Maximilian asked. "Doesn't he care?"
Sophie laughed bitterly. "He can't care. He has no authority. No power. All he does is sit in his chair and drink while listening to her being pounded by half a dozen men all night long."
Maximilian burst into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "Merlin… I almost feel sorry for him. What a pathetic marriage. Did he ever even father any of her children?"
"No one knows," Sophie said. "Honestly, none of us know who our real fathers are. It's always a guess. Maybe some are dead. Or maybe she erased their memories like she always does. If she gets bored… or finds them unpleasant… she either kills them or makes them forget she ever existed."
Maximilian was quiet for a moment. "It's… unusual. Growing up like that. Hearing your mother… like that…"
Sophie sighed. "When I was little, I thought it was normal. Seeing her in bed with men… hearing the sounds every weekend. I thought all mothers did that."
She paused.
"But when I went to school, I realized. Other people had real parents. Fathers who stayed. Mothers who didn't treat their children like pawns. That's when it hit me—I didn't grow up normal. My family is broken."
She blinked fast, hiding the emotion that threatened to surface.
"That's why I swore I'd never become like her."
Maximilian pulled her closer again, kissing the top of her head. "You won't. I'll make sure of it. I'll change everything for you."
Sophie looked up at him. "But what about your family? Your mother? Your sister? They'll never accept me."
"They don't get a say," Maximilian said with finality. "My mother is obsessed with a dead man. My sister is too busy playing house with a child that's not even hers. They have no right to question who I choose."
Sophie smiled then, eyes glimmering with a mixture of lust and affection. "Then let's go one more round…"
Maximilian smirked. "You sound like your mother."
She laughed and punched him playfully in the chest. "Don't ever say that again."
Their laughter mixed with passion as they tangled again beneath the sheets—limbs, lips, desire. The room filled once more with the sounds of pleasure, and rest well you know , wink, wink 😜 .
Sophie Trévér