Victoria found the file by accident.
Or so she thought.
It was tucked neatly inside a drawer in his study—her father's company name printed across the cover.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Dates. Decisions. Signatures.
One name repeated over and over.
N. A. Tom
The room spun.
He had ruined them.
She slammed the folder shut just as Nyangtsi appeared in the doorway.
"Curiosity," he said calmly, "is dangerous."
"You did this," she whispered. "You destroyed us."
"Yes," he agreed. "And now I'm protecting you."Victoria's breath came shallow and fast, her fingers still pressed against the folder as if letting go would make the truth disappear.
Protecting you.
The words echoed in her head, sickening in their calm certainty.
"You destroyed my father," she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. "You took everything he built. You erased his name like it meant nothing."
Nyangtsi stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft, deliberate click. The sound felt final. Trapping.
"Your father was already falling," he said evenly. "I merely decided how hard."
Her eyes burned. "You call that justification?"
"I call it reality." He walked toward the desk, unhurried, as if this confrontation had been inevitable. As if he'd been waiting for it. "His company was bleeding. His partners were preparing to sell him out. Competitors were circling like vultures."
"That didn't give you the right—"
"It gave me leverage," he interrupted calmly. "And leverage is everything."
Victoria's hands curled into fists. "So what? You ruin us, then swoop in like some twisted savior and expect gratitude?"
"No," he said quietly. "I expect understanding."
She let out a sharp, broken laugh. "Understanding? You think knowing you're the monster behind my nightmares makes this better?"
He stopped a few feet from her. Close enough that she could see the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darkened—not with guilt, but with something far more dangerous.
"I never claimed to be good," he said. "I claimed to be necessary."
The room felt smaller. The walls closer.
"You planned this," she whispered, the realization crashing over her. "The debt. The contract. The marriage. You didn't just find me when I was desperate—you made me desperate."
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
The honesty hurt more than denial ever could.
Victoria's vision blurred. "Then why?" she demanded. "Why not just crush us completely? Why drag me into your life?"
For the first time since she'd known him, Nyangtsi hesitated.
It was brief. Barely perceptible.
But she saw it.
"Because," he said slowly, "you were never meant to be collateral damage."
Her heart stuttered. "Then what was I meant to be?"
He reached past her and took the folder from her hands, closing it with deliberate care before placing it back in the drawer. His fingers brushed hers in the process—warm, grounding, infuriating.
"A solution," he said. "And later… an insurance policy."
She recoiled. "I'm not a thing."
"No," he agreed softly, meeting her gaze. "You're a risk."
The word sent a chill down her spine.
"I watched you long before this," he continued. "You fought for your family when everyone else abandoned them. You refused to disappear. You survived where others would have broken."
Her throat tightened. "You watched me suffer."
"Yes," he said. "And you didn't fall."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid.
"You could have walked away," she said quietly. "After you ruined us. You could have let us disappear."
"I could have," he admitted. "But then someone else would have finished the job. Someone without restraint."
Her stomach twisted. "So you destroy to protect?"
"I destroy to control outcomes," he said. "Protection is merely a byproduct."
Victoria shook her head, tears burning behind her eyes. "You expect me to live with this? To sleep under the same roof as the man who took my father's life apart?"
"You already are," he said calmly. "And you will continue to do so."
She looked at him then—really looked at him. At the power he wore like a second skin. At the certainty. The danger. The man who had broken her world and now stood between her and something worse.
"You don't regret it," she said.
"No," he replied. "But I would make the same choice again—because you're still alive. Your brother is still breathing. And your name hasn't been erased."
Her chest ached.
"That doesn't make this right," she whispered.
"I didn't ask for forgiveness," he said quietly. "I asked for compliance."
The word stung—but beneath it, something else pulsed. Something frightening.
Because despite the anger, the betrayal, the ache in her chest… she understood.
And that understanding terrified her.
"You used me," she said.
"Yes."
"You trapped me."
"Yes."
"And you expect me not to hate you?"
A pause.
Then he stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I expect you to survive me first."
Her heart pounded.
"And if I can't?" she asked.
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Then this marriage will consume you."
The admission hung between them, raw and dangerous.
Victoria stepped back, shaking. "I need… time."
"You'll have it," he said. "But remember—every door in this building opens because I allow it to."
She turned and left the study before he could say anything else, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Back in her room, she locked the door and slid down against it, pressing a hand to her chest.
He had ruined her life.
And somehow…
He was the only reason it hadn't ended.
That night, as the city pulsed beneath the penthouse and Nyangtsi's presence lingered like a shadow in her mind, Victoria understood one devastating truth:
She hadn't married her savior.
She had married the architect of her destruction.
And the most dangerous part?
She wasn't sure she could ever escape him now.
Victoria stayed on the floor long after her legs went numb.
The carpet beneath her was soft, expensive—everything in this penthouse was designed to cushion impact. And yet nothing here could soften the truth she had just uncovered. Her father's downfall hadn't been an accident. It hadn't been fate or bad luck or poor decisions.
It had been engineered.
By the man she was married to.
She pressed her fist against her mouth to keep the sound inside. Crying felt useless now. Tears wouldn't undo signatures. They wouldn't reverse dates, or decisions, or the steady, merciless way Nyangtsi Andesunn Tom had dismantled her family piece by piece.
She forced herself to stand.
Weakness, she realized, was a luxury she could no longer afford.
The bathroom light revealed a stranger staring back at her. Her makeup from the gala had faded, her eyes slightly red, her lips pale. She looked… breakable.
"I won't be," she whispered to her reflection.
She washed her face, letting the cold water steady her racing thoughts. If Nyangtsi thought discovering the file would break her, he was wrong. It would change her—but it would not destroy her.
When she stepped back into the bedroom, the city lights shimmered beyond the glass. Somewhere out there, her father sat in quiet disgrace. Somewhere else, her brother slept safely, unaware of how close he had come to losing everything.
Because of Nyangtsi.
And because of Nyangtsi.
The contradiction made her chest ache.
A soft knock came at the door.
She froze.
"Victoria," his voice came through, low and controlled. "Open the door."
She didn't move.
"You don't get to decide when we talk," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.
A pause.
Then: "No. But I do get to decide what happens if you don't."
Her jaw tightened. She crossed the room and unlocked the door, opening it just enough to face him.
He stood there without a jacket, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. Less polished. More dangerous. His eyes swept over her face, taking in every detail she hadn't intended to show.
"You're angry," he said.
"You planned this," she replied. "So don't insult me by pretending you don't know why."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Not locking it. That, somehow, felt more deliberate.
"You were never meant to find that file so soon," he said calmly.
Her laugh was sharp. "So I was meant to find it eventually."
"Yes."
The honesty unsettled her more than any lie could have.
"When?" she demanded. "After a year? After I'd played your wife long enough to forget who I was?"
"After you were strong enough to understand it," he said.
She stared at him. "You don't get to decide that."
"I already did."
The tension between them thickened, heavy and electric. He took a step closer, then stopped, as if testing an invisible line.
"You think this changes everything," he continued. "It doesn't."
"It changes me," she said quietly.
His gaze sharpened. "Good."
The word landed like a challenge.
"You want me hardened," she said. "Cold. Like you."
"I want you alive," he replied. "Everything else is negotiable."
She shook her head slowly. "You don't protect people, Nyangtsi. You own them."
"Yes," he agreed. "Because ownership is safer than abandonment."
Something twisted in her chest at that. For a fleeting second, she saw not just the man who had destroyed her family—but the man who trusted no one enough to leave them free.
The thought disturbed her.
"You could have warned us," she said. "You could have helped without destroying."
He was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, quietly, "Your father would never have accepted help. Pride would have killed him faster than debt."
Her breath caught.
"You didn't know him," she said.
"I knew exactly who he was," Nyangtsi replied. "That's why he fell."
The words were brutal. Precise. And devastatingly accurate.
Victoria turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. "So what now?" she asked. "I pretend I don't know? I smile for the cameras and sleep under the same roof as the man who ruined my life?"
"Yes," he said. "For now."
She looked back at him. "And later?"
"Later," he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering, "you decide whether you want revenge… or power."
Her heart skipped.
"You think I'd ever choose you," she whispered.
"I think," he said softly, "that you're already choosing survival. And survival, in my world, always comes at a cost."
He reached out, stopping just short of touching her cheek.
"You hate me," he continued. "You should. Hate keeps you sharp."
His hand dropped.
"But don't mistake hatred for immunity," he added. "This bond—this marriage—it will change you whether you want it to or not."
He turned toward the door.
"Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow, you begin learning how to stand beside me without breaking."
The door closed behind him, leaving silence in its wake.
Victoria stood alone, heart pounding, mind racing.
She hated him.
She feared him.
And beneath it all, in the deepest, most dangerous corner of her heart, something else stirred—something she refused to name.
Because admitting it would mean facing the most terrifying truth of all:
That the man who destroyed her life was slowly becoming the center of it.
And that escaping him might one day require a price she wasn't sure she could pay.