Nicole Vance had grown up in silk.
She was born into a world where people moved when she snapped her fingers and doors opened before she even touched the handle. Every emotion she felt was treated like law, and every disappointment like a catastrophe. The Vance mansion reflected that perfectly: gold-trimmed furniture, imported chandeliers, and floral arrangements that cost more than people's monthly salaries.
The moment she returned from her dinner at Alexander Steele's home, she didn't go to bed, she went straight to the person who had trained her like this, her mother.
Victoria Vance was seated in her dressing parlor, a glass of white wine in one hand, the other lazily petting the Persian cat curled at her feet. She was elegance in human form,expensive perfume, smooth hair in a sleek bun, a diamond ring large enough to be considered an argument rather than jewelry.
Nicole stood at the doorway, trembling,not because she had been hurt, but because she knew exactly how to weaponize her emotions.
"Mother…" she breathed, voice shaking just enough to sound fragile.
Victoria looked up slowly, bored at first, then mildly alert when she saw her daughter's reddened eyes.
"Darling?"
Her voice was honey dipped in arrogance.
"He embarrassed me," Nicole whispered, stepping deeper into the room.
Victoria didn't gasp, didn't panic. She merely placed her wine down,deliberately,turning her full attention to her daughter like a queen turning toward her heir.
"Who?" she asked, though she already knew.
Nicole swallowed dramatically. "Alex."
The temperature in the room shifted.
Victoria leaned back, fingers folding calmly in her lap.
"Tell me," she said, voice silk and invitation. "Slowly."
It took very little prompting.
Nicole described everything:
The dinner, the rooftop view, the romantic premise she had imagined.
How she had gently, sweetly, perfectly asked about when they would make their relationship official… and how Alex had responded as though she were a stranger making a business proposal.
"He brushed it off," Nicole said, tears slipping down her cheeks. "He acted like I was rushing him. Like I was " She swallowed. "Desperate."
Victoria's expression sharpened, nose lifting slightly.
"Alexander is a Steele," she said flatly. "And Steeles forget something very important: their power stays only because they marry other families with equal influence. They cannot afford to treat a Vance daughter like decoration."
Nicole sniffled.
"I tried not to cry. Truly, Mother, I did."
She pressed the handkerchief against her eyes.
"But I couldn't hold it in when I left."
Victoria waved a hand dismissively.
"You are allowed to break down."
Her lips curved upward.
"It reminds them they can't afford to lose you."
Nicole walked to her mother's side, squeezing her hand.
"Do you think he loves me?"
"Love?" Victoria laughed low and rich.
"Love is for foolish girls. You don't need him to love you, only to marry you. Marriage gives leverage. Leverage gives heirs. Heirs give control."
The words slid off Victoria's tongue like scripture.
Nicole absorbed them silently, almost reverently.
"I want him to respect me."
"He will," Victoria replied.
She reached forward and stroked her daughter's cheek, wiping away the tears that still clung to her lashes.
"Because he will fear losing you."
She leaned in, speaking more quietly, more deadly.
"And if he still refuses to treat you like a priority…?"
"What?" Nicole breathed.
"We will remind Richard Steele what alliances are worth."
A tremor of satisfaction passed through Nicole's spine.
"You think I should speak to him?"
Victoria smiled, slow and regal.
"You already did, didn't you?"
Nicole didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
Victoria squeezed her hand.
"Good girl."
Alexander Steele was not afraid of much.
He could negotiate eight-figure contracts, stare down hostile investors, and run an empire without losing sleep. But when his father's number flashed across his phone screen, he always paused.
Richard Steele didn't call to chat.
He called to instruct.
Alex exhaled through his nose and answered.
"Father."
There was no greeting on the other end,just an immediate, unfiltered demand.
"What did you do to Nicole?"
Alex shut his eyes.
It wasn't even 'Is everything alright?'
No.
Straight to accusation.
"Nothing," Alex replied.
"We had a disagreement. She exaggerated it."
"That's not what I've been told."
Of course it wasn't.
"She claims," Richard continued, "that you humiliated her. Publicly. In your own home."
Alex pressed the bridge of his nose.
"I didn't humiliate her. She brought up marriage. I told her the timing wasn't ideal. She wouldn't let it go."
"And you dismissed her concerns?"
"I tried to redirect the conversation "
Richard cut him off.
"You made her cry, Alexander."
"She chose to cry."
"That's irrelevant."
It shouldn't have been, but in this family, tears were political ammunition.
Richard's voice held no emotion, only obligation and legacy.
"The Vances are not some social climbers," he said.
"We need them. Their resources, their international connections. They protect our reputation when markets crash. Do you understand?"
"I do," Alex said, although his blood was heating.
"But I don't want to marry a woman because it's good for business."
"You're not marrying for love," Richard snapped.
"You're marrying for dynasty."
Alex's jaw locked.
Richard continued, eyes unseen but presence suffocating.
"You will call her. You will apologize. And you will ensure her mother does not call me again."
That was the real order.
Not peace.
Control.
Alex stared at the skyline through his office window.
Steel towers glowed from the setting sun, each one a monument to everything he had sacrificed.
His voice was low.
"…Fine."
Richard made a satisfied sound.
"Good. Handle it."
The call ended without goodbye.
Alex held the phone in his palm for a long moment, breathing through irritation he couldn't afford to show.
If Nicole wanted to play victim, she had chosen the one audience he could never afford to ignore.
He dialed her number.
It rang once.
Then she answered,voice soft, trembling, perfectly rehearsed.
"A-Alex?"
He nearly rolled his eyes.
"It's me," he said. "I'm calling about last night."
A small inhale.
Theatrical.
Painful.
"I wasn't sure you would," she whispered.
He leaned back in his chair.
"I didn't mean to upset you. I spoke bluntly. It was a long day."
There was silence,then a tiny sniffle.
"You made me feel… unimportant," she murmured.
"As if our future is something you bury behind meetings and reports."
He swallowed the instinct to correct her.
"My intention wasn't disrespect," he replied.
"If I sounded dismissive, I apologize."
Nicole breathed, slow and relieved,like a patient finally receiving medicine.
"It's… okay."
Her voice softened as if she were granting mercy.
"I know you're stressed. I know running Steele Industries is overwhelming."
He couldn't tell if she was comforting him or reminding him of his obligations.
"But I just want us to be a priority," she continued.
"I want to know where we're heading. I don't want to be your secret."
That last word cut differently.
"You're not a secret," he said finally.
"I hear you. I'll… try to handle things better."
Another pause.
Then sweetness bloomed in her voice like poison sugar.
"Thank you, darling," she cooed.
"I forgive you."
Of course she did.
"Talk soon?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied.
"Goodnight, Alex."
She hung up.
No guilt, no sorrow, only calm triumph.
Alex lowered the phone slowly.
He wasn't sure whether he had just apologized to the woman he was supposed to marry…
…or surrendered to the life everyone else had chosen for him.
He was tired of living for others, he wanted a life for himself. To do the things he wanted. But family comes first, that's how it should be or rather , what he was forced to believe.