"Not all battles need blades—some are won by saying nothing at all."_Unknown
A few days passed in silent repetition.
Maeve hadn't seen Levi since the wedding. Not a word. Not a knock. Nothing. The man she was now bound to was little more than a shadow that occasionally echoed through the halls.
Left to herself, she built a quiet routine, one that wrapped around her like armor.
Wake up. Dress up. Have breakfast. Take a walk. Read. Lunch in the library. Dinner. Sleep. Repeat.
She stuck to it religiously.
The staff, while polite, bore an air of cautious pity around her. Their smiles were stretched too tight, their tone too gentle—as if she might break if they spoke too harshly. They treated her well, but not with reverence.
Not like the Lady of the House.
More like a guest they weren't sure would last.
Maeve didn't complain. In fact, she thought she had no right to.
Living here is an honor, she reminded herself daily.
For someone like her? A roof like this was a miracle.
---
She was in the library that afternoon, deeply absorbed in a fantasy series she'd stumbled upon—one that reminded her of the stories she used to read at the back of thrift bookstores.
A sudden voice broke the calm.
"Hello…"
Maeve looked up, startled.
A man stood at the entrance of the library. He looked just as surprised to find someone else there.
He was handsome in a boyish way—blonde hair neatly French cropped and soft blue eyes. He stood a head shorter than Levi, but had a broader, more built frame.
"You must be the newest member of the Gazdanov family," he said with a charming grin, giving her a curt nod. "It's an honor to meet you."
Maeve closed her book softly and offered a polite smile. "Nice to meet you too."
"I'm Ivan Kozlov," he added. "Engaged to one of Levi's distant cousins."
He didn't linger long, but his presence left a ripple in the calm—one of the few to acknowledge her with warmth instead of curiosity.
---
That evening, Noelle found her just as she was preparing for another quiet dinner alone.
"There'll be a family dinner tonight," she said gently, holding out an evening dress Maeve had never seen before—rich emerald satin with delicate silver embroidery. "Levi will be there. Along with the rest of the immediate circle."
Maeve's hands stilled. "Everyone?"
Noelle nodded. "I'll help you get ready."
---
She looked gorgeous when they were done. The gown hugged her softly, its queen-ann neckline revealing the smooth pale line of her collarbones. Her hair was brushed down in soft waves, framing her features with effortless grace.
Noelle walked her down to a lounge where Levi waited.
He rose when she entered, dressed in an all-black tailored suit, no tie, sleeves rolled slightly at the wrist. His glasses rested low on his nose as he offered a nod.
"You look... decent," he said, his voice quiet and unreadable.
Maeve offered a small, "Thank you."
A few seconds passed. Then,
"How have you been settling?" he asked, gaze distant.
She shrugged slightly. "I'm managing."
"That's good."
And that was that.
---
The dining hall was already full by the time they entered. Conversations halted. Chairs scraped gently as everyone stood.
Levi sat at the head of the table. Maeve was guided to the seat beside him.
Dozens of unfamiliar faces. Expensive jewelry. Cold eyes.
Dinner was served. Quiet murmurs filled the space. Maeve felt eyes constantly flicking in her direction—judging, scanning, dismissing.
She didn't belong.
She was reminded of that with every passing moment.
---
The woman beside her leaned closer, her perfume sharp and floral.
"You must be Maeve," she said, her Slavic accent threading through her words.
Tall, model-like. Dark brown hair in soft layers, light brown eyes lined with smoky shadow. Her smirk came easy.
Maeve recognized her instantly.
Katya Chekhov.
Levi's distant cousin. Ivan's fiancée.
"So," Katya began, sipping her wine delicately, "tell me about your family."
Maeve glanced at her plate. "There's not much to tell."
"What do they do? How do they earn?" Katya pressed, her tone falsely curious.
"I lived with my uncle," Maeve said flatly.
"Oh?" Katya tilted her head, lips curled slightly. "Why is that? No parents?"
The words were dressed in silk, but the blade beneath it was clear.
Maeve said nothing.
Katya leaned back with a soft scoff. "It's fine if you don't want to answer. I understand."
The mock sympathy in her voice was worse than the question.
Levi, still seated beside Maeve, said nothing. Not once did he glance in her direction, nor did he seem to hear what was happening.
Maeve clenched her jaw.
Katya reached for her glass again—then her wrist jerked, and cold juice splashed across Maeve's chest and lap.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the fabric clung to her skin.
Katya blinked dramatically. "Oh my. I am so sorry. How clumsy of me."
Levi stood, wiping his hands with a napkin. "I'm done," he announced. Without a glance toward Maeve, he walked out of the room.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Maeve rose slowly, cheeks flushed. "Excuse me," she said softly, then turned and walked out.
---
Back in her quarters, Noelle gasped the moment she saw her.
"What happened?!"
Maeve offered a tired smile. "It was an accident."
Noelle's face twisted. "No. That wasn't an accident."
She began unfastening the gown carefully, grabbing a towel. "Two years ago, Katya nearly destroyed the family's reputation by sleeping with Ivan. He was just a bodyguard back then. The engagement was damage control, not love."
Maeve blinked. "Oh."
"Don't let her get to you. She's venom in silk."
Maeve didn't reply. She was too tired to care.
Katya was cruel. But she wasn't new. Maeve had been raised with cousins who used silence like a scalpel.
She'd learned that the loudest response… was none at all.
---
Later that Night
Levi sat in his study, the warm lamplight casting shadows over the sleek desk as he reviewed the latest reports from a business deal—one of the legitimate ones, free of blood or bullets. Anton stood nearby, arms folded, muttering his thoughts.
"The owner's a crook," he said. "Looks more like a swindler than a businessman. If we're buying in, we keep full control."
Levi barely nodded, eyes skimming the document. "Noted."
A knock sounded at the door. Without waiting for a response, Katya stepped in, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She had changed into a red silk babydoll—thin, sheer, and almost entirely transparent. Her dark hair was piled into a careless bun, exposing her slender neck and chest, her lips painted a glossy crimson.
Anton blinked, gave a short, uncomfortable nod, and promptly excused himself, the door clicking shut behind him.
Levi raised his eyes, already exasperated. "To what do I owe this honor, Katya?" His voice was laced with dry sarcasm.
Katya stepped in with a confident sway, her accent thick as she purred, "Just checking on you. You must be exhausted—having to wed someone so beneath you."
Levi's expression didn't change. Amusement flickered briefly in his eyes, but he said nothing.
She walked closer. "Everyone thought it would be us, Levi. When we were younger, they were sure. And now, I'm left with a bodyguard while you tie yourself to someone who brings you nothing—no connections, no profit. Just shame."
He didn't bother looking up again. "As you know, I'm a busy man. If you have nothing of value to say, make your exit."
Offended, Katya slammed her hand against the table. "Why would you put me to shame like this? I am of value. More than her. She's nothing—trash in a dress."
He sighed and finally looked up, his face unreadable but his voice cold. "It baffles me how you still have the audacity to insult what is mine. First, your petty performance at the dinner table. Now, this." He leaned back slightly. "I am married to Maeve. That alone makes her worth more than you'll ever be."
Katya's face twisted with rage. "You'll regret—"
"Leave," he said, cutting her off without raising his voice.
She huffed and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Alone again, Levi returned to the papers on his desk, but for the first time that night, his thoughts drifted.
He saw again the moment Maeve sat in silence while humiliation dripped down her dress—no tears, no shouting, just quiet dignity. Not many could bear that kind of public shame without cracking.
His fingers stilled on the document.
She was... curious.
---