Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Vivian didn’t know how long they had been sitting shoulder to shoulder, leaning against each other until she felt her buttocks going numb from sitting for so long. As the sunlight streaming into the living room began to shorten inch by inch, and the hazy darkness descended, Alajos shifted.

He glanced at the wall clock and muttered to himself, “It’s seven o’clock.”

After speaking, he vigorously rubbed his face. Then, as he raised his head, all the pain, confusion, and neurotic emotions seemed to disappear, as if those dilemmas had never existed.

He was still the authoritarian and indifferent Capo of Houston. However, now, facing Vivian, he knew how to release his tenderness and kindness in moderation, so as not to make his fragile and sensitive wife tremble like a rabbit facing a big bad wolf.

“You should eat something,” Alajos left the living room and entered the kitchen. “What would you like to eat?”

During Vivian’s hospitalization, Alajos had been busy with the aftermath of the attack. He had been running between the hospital, the port, and the warehouse; he hadn’t had time to return to the apartment for a meal alone. Thus, he straightforwardly granted Haylee an indefinite vacation. Today, when Vivian returned, he had forgotten to inform Haylee.

Because he was worried that no one had been in the apartment for a long time, and the vegetables in the refrigerator might spoil, Haylee had not replenished much. She had left some long-lasting eggs, tomatoes, and soybeans in the refrigerator. Alajos found a sealed jar of meat sauce in the top compartment of the refrigerator.

“Would spaghetti be okay?” Alajos asked Vivian, holding up the jar of meat sauce from the refrigerator.

As soon as the cold glass jar left the refrigerator, a thin layer of mist quickly formed on its surface. When Vivian pressed her finger against it, it left a fingerprint.

“Sure,” Vivian accepted gladly. “I like spaghetti.”

“To be honest, I only know how to make spaghetti,” Alajos admitted frankly, “but it has to be with meat sauce. Not everyone has Haylee’s culinary skills.”

“Girls’ high school has a special cooking course. I can bake cakes and make delicious apple pies,” Vivian looked at him expectantly. “If you have time to sit down and taste them, I can make them for you.”

“I think I would really like your apple pie, it’s just a pity we don’t have the ingredients,” Alajos said regretfully, opening the refrigerator which didn’t contain many ingredients.

Alajos’s regret pleased Vivian. Regardless of whether he genuinely liked apple pies or not, Vivian couldn’t deny that she was moved at that moment.

She was content with this kind of situation, saying that when she was with Alajos, this relaxed, occasionally humorous state was satisfying. She immersed herself wholeheartedly in this comfortable state and silently prayed to God in her heart, hoping for more moments like this, a little longer, and even longer.

“It’s okay, we still have plenty of time together,” Vivian said, sitting at the table, watching Alajos busy in the kitchen. “When our child is born next year, I can make applesauce for him.”

Alajos’s thoughts couldn’t help but follow Vivian’s words. In his mind’s eye, there appeared a small, soft child, with tiny fingers clutching Vivian’s golden long hair. The child looked at him with glass-like blue eyes, coaxed into eating a spoonful of applesauce.

Alajos softened at the thought and as the steam rose from the boiling water in the stainless steel pot, it veiled his face.Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

So, he allowed himself to smile, a relaxed and contented smile.

It was time to make a decision.

Alajos admonished himself in his mind. He was in a dilemma, but there was still room for maneuvering, wanting to achieve the best of both worlds. However, reality told him that it was not possible. The battles between cities never stopped; alliances were not permanent, interests were.

He didn’t want to be stuck in the Mafia’s struggles like his father, struggling until death. But now, reality forced him to make the same choice as his father.

Fight, pick up the gun, until the last moment of his life.

After having dinner with Vivian, Alajos planned to watch a movie she liked with her, but Vivian decisively refused.

“I got Adieu’s financial statements and daily cash flow,” Vivian took out a new folder, intending to organize the documents belonging to Adieu into it, but the dense graphics and data on it made her dizzy and confused, “But I don’t understand it.”

Vivian’s eyelids drooped, and Alajos felt that if she had ears on top of her head, they would probably be drooping too. He inexplicably sensed Vivian’s feeling of injustice.

Alajos chuckled, patting her head. “It’s okay, I can teach you.”

Adieu was a gift from his mother for his eighteenth birthday. It had been under Alajos’s management since it was handed to him as a gift. Until four years ago, when his mother passed away, and his father, like a madman, became increasingly involved in the internal affairs of the Mafia, Alajos was entangled and had no time to spare. He then hired a professional manager to take care of it. However, Alajos still personally reviewed the monthly financial statements, so teaching Vivian was not a big problem.

Vivian was smarter than he had imagined. She loved to grasp details and could easily get entangled in a small issue, but it was okay.

“Adieu’s operational model is already very mature. The bar manager will take care of most of the troubles for you. You just need to focus on the daily cash flow and interpersonal relationships,” Alajos took out a blank piece of paper and wrote down a few names with a pen. “These people are regulars at the bar. Their fathers are either businessmen or politicians, all well-connected individuals.”

“I’ve already greeted them in advance. They won’t come to bother you on purpose. If there’s something you can’t handle, you can call me, and I will help you,” Alajos said. “Tomorrow, I will have someone provide you with more detailed information.”

Vivian took a deep breath, feeling reassured by Alajos’s early arrangements, knowing that she wouldn’t be left to face it alone. “Don’t worry, I will definitely do well,” she assured him.

Alajos smiled and didn’t say anything more to make Vivian more nervous.

In fact, his arrangements were meant to help Vivian improve her abilities, but more importantly, it was to increase the protection around Vivian through the needs of Adieu’s operations.

This way, he could confidently execute his plan.

The moonlight was beautiful that night. Alajos briefly explained some of Adieu’s business principles to Vivian and then urged her to take a bath and go to bed.

The clock pointed to two in the morning. Alajos, using the moonlight, glanced at the sleeping Vivian. He quietly got up, put on the coat he had casually thrown on the chair, and walked out of the room.

The unique sound of the lock turning in the front door echoed through the house. Alajos entered the kitchen, took out a bottle of brandy and two glasses from the liquor cabinet.

“It’s two in the morning,” Simpson glanced at the time, speechless, and lay down on the single sofa. “Did you call me here just to have a drink?”