Clashing Worlds

The tires of the sleek black car crunched against the gravel path, their sound cutting through the otherwise still morning. Rory stood by the grand entrance of the Dumont house, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. The faint smell of jasmine from the garden drifted in the air, but it did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside her.

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She didn’t know what she expected Maximilian Rykard to look like in person, but the man who stepped out of the car was somehow both exactly what she imagined and more infuriating than she could have guessed.

Max was tall, his tailored suit hugging wide shoulders and a lean frame. His jetblack hair was perfectly styled, and his chiseled features exuded power. His piercing sapphire eyes swept the estate with an air of indifference before landing on her. Rory met his look headon, her emerald eyes burning with defiance.

He smirked. It wasn’t the charming kind; it was the smug, selfassured curve of lips that made her want to slap him.

“Miss Dumont,” he said, his voice a deep baritone, smooth yet carrying an edge of steel. He extended a hand as he neared. “Maximilian Rykard.”

She ignored his hand, tilting her chin up. “I know who you are.”

Max arched an eyebrow, withdrawing his hand without missing a beat. “Good. That saves us introductions.”

“This isn’t a social call,” she snapped. “You’re here to finalize the terms of your… acquisition.”

The smirk increased. “I see you’re as spirited as they said. This will be interesting.”

Rory bristled at his snobbery. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Rykard. I’m not a prize or a trading chip. Whatever deal you made with my father doesn’t make you my owner.”

Max chuckled, a low, infuriating sound that made her hands clench. “This isn’t about ownership, Miss Dumont. It’s business. Don’t mix the two.”

Her nostrils flared as she took a step closer, her voice falling into a dangerous whisper. “You destroyed my family. You’ve taken everything from us. And now you expect me to play the obedient wife in your little scheme? You’re delusional.”

Max’s face hardened, the playful smirk vanishing. He leaned down slightly, his sapphire eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine—one she refused to recognize.

“You think I care about your approval?” he asked, his voice icy. “I don’t need you to like me. I need you to do your part. And trust me, Miss Dumont, you will.”

Her heart hammered against her ribcage, anger and an unfamiliar thrill warring within her. She opened her mouth to fire back, but Camille’s words cut through the tension.

“Maximilian, welcome,” her mother greeted as she approached, her tone warm yet measured. Camille’s serene face didn’t falter as she glanced between the two of them. “I see you’ve met Rory.”

“We were just… getting acquainted,” Max said smoothly, stepping back and giving Camille a polite nod.

Rory shot her mother a glare, but Camille ignored it, instead gesturing toward the house. “Come inside. Henri is waiting in the study.”

Max turned toward the door, but not before giving Rory one last, knowing look. She glared daggers at his back as he walked away, his presence commanding even in quiet.

The study was a room soaked in old money and fading power. Henri sat behind his desk, his face carefully neutral, but Rory knew him well enough to catch the flicker of unease in his eyes. Max’s arrival seemed to sap the room of warmth.

“Maximilian,” Henri greeted, rising from his chair and offering a hand. “Thank you for coming.”

Max shook his hand firmly. “Mr. Dumont. Let’s not waste time. We both know why I’m here.”

Henri gestured for him to sit, and Max dropped himself into the chair opposite the desk. Rory stood by the door, her arms crossed, unwilling to join them.

“The terms are simple,” Max began, his tone as cold as the arctic. “The merger will stabilize your company’s financial standing. In return, Aurélien and I will married. It’s a mutually useful arrangement.”

“Mutually beneficial,” Rory repeated mockingly, stepping forward. “For you, maybe. You get your hands on our name and image. What do we get, Max? A period of servitude?”

Max didn’t even look at her. “You get to keep your legacy intact. And perhaps a lesson in humility.”

Rory’s hands clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. “You arrogant—”

“Enough, Rory,” Henri interrupted, his tone sharp. “Max is offering us a lifeline. You don’t have to like it, but you will respect it.”

Her chest tightened at the deception in her father’s voice. She bit back a retort, turning on her heel and stomping out of the study. The sound of her footsteps echoed down the hall, but she didn’t stop until she was outside, the crisp air filling her lungs.

Max found her in the yard an hour later. She sat on a stone bench, her arms wrapped around herself as she looked at the sprawling estate that had once felt like home. Now, it felt like a jail.

“Brooding doesn’t suit you,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

She didn’t look at him. “What do you want, Max?”

“To make this easier for both of us,” he answered, his tone almost… sincere. “You don’t have to fight me at every turn, you know.”

Her head snapped toward him, her eyes burning. “You’re asking me to roll over and accept this nightmare? That’s not who I am.”

He stepped closer, his eyes unwavering. “No, you’re a fighter. I can accept that. But you’re also smart enough to know when you’re beaten.”

The words stung more than they should have, and she hated the flicker of doubt they stirred in her chest. She stood, closing the gap between them.

“If you think this is over, you’re wrong,” she said, her voice low and angry. “You might have won this round, but I’m not done fighting. Not by a long shot.”

Max’s mouth curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The energy between them crackled like a live wire, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, Max turned and walked away, leaving Rory alone with her thoughts—and the sinking realization that the battle she’d waged against him might have only just started.

Rory returning to the house, her resolve steeled but her feelings conflicted. She watches from the shadows as Max exchanges final words with her parents, his presence looming big even as he prepares to leave. Her fists clench as she says to herself, “You’ll regret underestimating me, Max.”

Outside, Max’s car pulls away, but the storm he’s brought into Rory’s life has only just started.