Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Alajos ignored his inquiries, silently pouring drink after drink into his own mouth until Simpson couldn’t bear it anymore.

Simpson halted his attempt to get himself drunk. “Hey, did you bring me here just to watch you drink?”

“Vivian is pregnant,” Alajos hated his drinking, unable to drown himself in it.

“What?” Simpson doubted he heard right.

“Damn it! Don’t make me repeat my mistakes, Simpson,” Alajos suppressed a low growl, frustration and regret consuming him.

From Alajos’s reaction, Simpson reluctantly drew his conclusion, “Vivian is pregnant?”

At first, Simpson was overjoyed, but soon he realized Alajos’s mood wasn’t quite right, and then there were his words…

Furrowing his brow, Simpson asked, “What’s going on, Alajos? Vivian is pregnant, I thought you would be happy.”

“She shouldn’t be pregnant.” Alajos poured a drink, downing it in one go. “You know how weak Houston is now. I can’t protect her. This child might not make it.”

Simpson knew, precisely because he knew, so he fell silent.

“If the child is lost, Vivian will be deeply affected. I can’t imagine that scene. I might go mad too.”

“Didn’t you use any contraception?” Simpson frowned, not believing Alajos could be so careless. “Condoms, birth control pills, anything?”

“I was foolish,” Alajos regretted, “I believed Bryson.”

Alajos could still remember Bryson’s hypocritical and cunning face at that time, but unfortunately, he hadn’t seen through Bryson.

Alajos didn’t even want to think deeply about whether Bryson was too cunning, easily gaining his trust, or if it was Vivian’s beauty that made him forget these machinations…

He still remembered the day Bryson raised a champagne glass to him and asked, “How’s my daughter?”Nôvel/Dr(a)ma.Org - Content owner.

At that time, as the groom, Alajos had been socializing all day, exhausted. But as long as his gaze followed Vivian in her wedding dress, fatigue naturally drifted away from him.

He admired Vivian’s graceful figure as she moved about, like a hunter eyeing his prey soon to be captured. He knew Vivian was nervous; she didn’t want to marry him, to surrender her virginity to him. But that didn’t matter; he would seize it.

Perhaps his gaze on Vivian had been too focused, forgetting that Bryson was also an experienced hunter. In Bryson’s eyes, perhaps he was also prey that could be easily bagged with a well-aimed shot.

“She’s very beautiful,” Alajos, unaware, fell into the hunter’s trap.

“I’m glad to have your praise,” Bryson showed his usual hypocritical smile, “I know the plight of Houston, I’m here to help you.”

“I assure you, Vivian fully understands her duty. Tonight, she will be an obedient wife to you. She’s yours. Also, to reduce your troubles, my wife has imparted necessary sexual knowledge and contraception to her. The birth control pills are ready for her. On the wedding night, I believe a man doesn’t need to do anything extra to enjoy a woman’s beauty.”

Bryson’s words were vulgar, utterly revolting for a father to describe his own daughter in such a manner, but at that time, Alajos was grateful for Bryson and his family’s thoughtfulness.

“Thank you,” Alajos breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want a child for the time being; Houston’s current situation didn’t allow him to have his own child, it would become his unavoidable weakness. Therefore, when Bryson said that he had informed Vivian to take birth control pills, Alajos was grateful and even fortunate. He didn’t even delve into whether Bryson was lying.

To unravel the lie was a very simple matter; all he needed was to ask Vivian a question, or to wear a condom. But he did nothing, as Bryson said, he only needed to enjoy.

Thus, Alajos tacitly assumed Bryson hadn’t lied, that Vivian already knew to take birth control pills, letting things develop to an irreparable point.

As the memory ended, Simpson angrily muttered, “Damn Bryson!”

Simpson now knew, everything was “Damn Bryson, he actually deceived you!” The memory ended, turning into Simpson’s angry muttering, “Now, as he wished, Vivian is pregnant!”

“He must have other plans. He can’t know Vivian is pregnant,” Simpson clenched his fists, looking in the direction of the second floor, a hint of murderous intent flashing in his eyes.

Killing Vivian might destroy Bryson’s plans from their very inception.

As the thought emerged, Simpson met Alajos’s eyes, those deep, dark brown eyeswere saturated with the night.

The unspoken understanding between the brothers allowed him to comprehend Alajos’s choice with just a glance.

No!

It can’t be!

He wouldn’t allow anyone to harm Vivian.

Alajos’s determination left Simpson feeling despondent. “Alajos, you…”

Simpson looked at him, and with difficulty, said, “Have you fallen in love with Vivian?”

Alajos furrowed his brow, not answering immediately.

Simpson sighed softly, unsure whether to laugh or cry, but resigned nonetheless.

He said, “You are finished, Alajos.”

Regarding Simpson’s assessment, Alajos felt no anger. He felt somewhat lost, yet oddly clear. “I don’t know.”

“But she’s my wife.”

Alajos made no effort to conceal his defense of Vivian. Simpson understood. “What’s your plan?”

“The fact that Vivian is pregnant won’t satisfy for long; the child is healthy, her belly is growing,” Alajos said. “I can’t keep her hidden at home for six months, it’s not practical.”

“Getting through pregnancy and childbirth, the infant is still vulnerable. At least until he learns to use a gun to kill his enemies, he’ll need very careful protection,” Simpson had also grown from a child to an adult, having owned his first gun at thirteen and killed his first person that same night. He had been independent ever since.

But the years before thirteen weren’t without danger; he and his brother Alajos had faced numerous attacks and kidnappings, even losing a cousin and a niece because of it.

“Even with precise protection, enemies can find vulnerabilities, danger is everywhere,” Alajos shook his head. “I don’t know if Bryson has any connections to the Bratva, but the war between Houston and the Bratva won’t stop. Los Angeles is too strong now, while Houston is too weak. In any war, Houston will always be the loser.”

“Then let’s make Los Angeles as weak as Houston,” Simpson dangerously narrowed his eyes.

“Kill Bryson,” Alajos revealed his plan. “Stage an accident, make him die. Joseph will inherit his position; he’s an excellent successor, but the old men in the Los Angeles Mafia will give him some trouble.”

This was an inevitable outcome; the transition of power between old and new was always a chaotic period, the best time for asserting influence, for everyone to vie for a higher position.

“Let me think, what kind of ‘accident’ should we arrange for him?” Simpson was getting excited. Honestly, he had disliked the father and son in Los Angeles for a long time.

“A car accident? An attack? Let Emmert shoot him in the head, make it look like the Bratva’s doing?”

This was too exhilarating.

The more Simpson thought, the more excited he became.

“We need a more precise plan,” Alajos had a general idea, but the details needed careful consideration, to avoid dragging Houston into even more trouble. “It seems more fitting to bribe the Bratva to do this.”