Chapter 4: Losing Everything

Viktor POV

Back at the manor, I could barely contain the thrumming, oily heat in my blood. Every step I took through the polished corridors was a heavy, rhythmic thud that echoed my anticipation. My silk trousers felt impossibly tight, my arousal straining against the fabric as I lumbered toward the small, secluded guest room where they’d stuffed Mira. The welts from Sophia’s riding crop still burned like lines of liquid fire across my back, but the physical pain only fed the furnace of my rage.

“Finally got myself a fresh one,” I hissed, the words lost in the wet sound of my own heavy breathing. Sweat rolled down the back of my neck, soaking into my collar. “That tight little village bitch is going to learn exactly what happens to those who insult a Grell. She’ll be screaming my name by midnight, and I’ll savor every tear.”

I had issued the orders with a snarl: she was to be scrubbed raw, dressed in something sheer, and locked away. I wanted her terrified. I wanted her to smell like the expensive soaps of the manor so I could ruin that artificial purity myself. Not even Madame Elara would dare to interfere now; the servants had seen my face when I returned from Oakridge. They knew I was looking for a reason to spill blood.

Two guards stood outside the heavy oak door. They shifted their weight, their eyes darting to the floor as I approached. They looked like they wanted to be anywhere else on the continent.

“Open it,” I growled, my voice a gravelly rasp.

One of them, a younger lad with a shaky chin, hesitated. “My lord… Lady Sophia was just here, and she gave instructions that the girl was to be left—”

“I said open the fucking door before I have your balls cut off and fed to the hounds!” I roared, stepping into his personal space. My massive gut brushed against his chest plate, and the sheer weight of my presence made him flinch.

The lock clicked with a heavy, mechanical finality. I shoved the door wide, my frame nearly filling the entire entryway.

The room was dimly lit by a single flickering candle. There she was. Mira. Her auburn hair was still damp from the bath, clinging to her shoulders like dark silk. They had dressed her in a sheer white shift that left absolutely nothing to the imagination—every curve, every tremble of her skin was visible through the gossamer fabric. She was backed up against the far wall, her green eyes wide with a mixture of raw terror and a hatred so cold it could have frozen the wine in my glass.

I grinned, a slow, ugly stretching of my lips as I began to unbuckle my belt. “Look at you. Already dressed for the occasion. Good girl. You see? Life in the manor is already looking up.”

“Stay away from me, you disgusting, bloated pig!” Mira spat. Her voice shook, but she didn't look away.

I laughed, a wet, rattling sound that vibrated in my chest. “Keep calling me names, sweetheart. I’m going to enjoy breaking that spirit. By morning, you’ll realize that being my personal plaything is the only way you—or your pathetic father—stay alive.”

I stepped into the room, the floorboards groaning under my weight. I was a mountain of meat and malice, and I had her cornered. But just as I reached out a meaty hand to grab her hair, the door behind me slammed open with a violence that shook the walls.

“Viktor!”

Sophia’s voice didn't just command; it cut through the air like a serrated blade.

Mira POV

Mira’s heart was a trapped bird fluttering against her ribs. Every time the Baron took a step, the room seemed to shrink. He was a mountain of sweating, stinking flesh, and the way he looked at her—like she was a piece of meat on a carving board—made her want to vomit. She searched the room with frantic eyes. There was nothing. No heavy objects, no hidden knives. The window was a narrow slit, twenty feet above the stone courtyard.

Please, gods, let me die before he touches me, she prayed, her fingers digging into the stone wall behind her until her nails bled.

Then, the door exploded. The noble lady with the sharp, icy eyes—the one who had watched the Baron’s cruelty in the square with such silent intensity—stormed in. She didn't look like a savior; she looked like an executioner.

“Get away from her, you repulsive sack of lard!” Sophia snarled.

Mira felt a tiny, flickering spark of hope ignite in her gut. She pressed herself tighter against the cold stone, watching as the sister of the monster stepped between them, her presence acting like a shield of pure frost.

Viktor POV

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” I roared, spinning around so fast I nearly lost my balance. My face was purple, the veins in my neck throbbing with a pressure that felt like it might burst. “This girl is mine! I bought her! Fifty gold coins! She is legal property of the Barony!”

Sophia didn't flinch. She stood her ground, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at me with a gaze so full of clinical disgust it was as if she were dissecting a piece of rotten fruit. “And now she is under my protection. I’ve decided I like her. She has a fire in her—something this family hasn't seen in generations, certainly not from you.”

“Protection?” I let out a bitter, jagged laugh. “You’re fucking with me. Move aside, Sophia, or I swear by the gods, I’ll show you exactly why I’m the head of this house.”

“You?” Sophia stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried more power than my scream. “Look at yourself, Viktor. You are a wheezing, pathetic mountain of lard. You can’t even climb the stairs without your heart threatening to quit. You bought this girl because you’re too weak to find a woman who doesn't look at you with loathing. Not today. Not ever again.”

Mira’s voice came from behind her, sharp and venomous. “I told you I’d rather throw myself from the battlements than let your grease touch me, you fat pervert.”

My hands clenched into fists, the gold rings cutting into my skin. “Shut your whore mouths! Both of you! You have no idea the power I hold!”

Sophia smiled, but there was no warmth in it. It was the smile of a predator watching its prey fall into a trap. “Father and Mother are waiting in the Main Hall. Now. I’ve already informed them of your 'business trip' to Oakridge. I told them about the hangings. About the tongues. And about your new 'acquisition'.”

I felt a sudden, visceral jolt of ice shoot through my veins. The rage vanished, replaced by a cold, hollow pit in my stomach. “You fucking snitch...”

— The Main Hall —

The Main Hall was a cavern of cold marble and high, arched ceilings. The entire Grell family was assembled, a sight that usually only happened during royal visits or funerals. Viscount Harlan sat at the head of the long table, his face a mask of exhaustion and profound, weary disappointment. Beside him, Lady Margaret stared at a point on the wall, refusing to acknowledge my existence.

I stormed in, my boots thudding against the stone, my breath coming in short, angry bursts. “This is an outrage! I am the Baron! I can do whatever the fuck I want with my subjects and my gold!”

Harlan didn't even look up at first. He just raised a single, withered hand. “Sit down, Viktor.”

“I won’t be spoken to like a child in my own hall—”

“SIT. DOWN.” The Viscount’s voice didn't rise, but the authority behind it cracked like thunder.

I lowered my bulk into the reinforced chair at the far end of the table. The wood shrieked in protest, a sound that seemed to punctuate the humiliation of the moment.

“Your sister has told us everything,” Harlan began, his voice flat. “How you turned a simple tax collection into a bloodbath because your ego couldn't handle a peasant's laughter. How you purchased a girl from a dying man as if she were a sow for the slaughter. All to satisfy your... peculiar and depraved appetites.”

“She’s mine!” I slammed my fist onto the table, the silverware dancing and clattering. “I am the law in Oakridge!”

“And you have brought shame to this house for the last time,” my mother said, her voice like shards of ice. She finally turned to look at me, and the pity in her eyes was worse than any whip. “We have tolerated your gluttony and your cruelty because you were the heir. No longer.”

I blinked, the world suddenly feeling very unstable. “What? What are you talking about?”

Harlan stood up, his frame thin but imposing. “Effective immediately, I am stripping you of the barony and your status as heir. Sophia will inherit the title, the lands, and the responsibilities of the Grell line. She has shown more dignity and strategic thought in one afternoon than you have in your entire miserable life.”

Sophia, standing beside the now-clothed Mira, didn't hide her triumphant smirk.

“You can’t do this!” I shouted, spittle flying from my lips as I struggled to stand. “I’m the eldest son! It’s my birthright! The laws of the kingdom—”

“The laws of the kingdom also allow for the removal of a disgrace,” Harlan countered. “You are a liability, Viktor. A walking scandal that threatens to drag us all into the mud with you. You will be sent to the old hunting lodge on the eastern outskirts—the one near the Blackwood. You may take two guards and a minimal stipend. Consider it an opportunity to reflect on your failures. Or don't. Frankly, I no longer care if you rot.”

Lady Margaret stood up, her silk skirts rustling. “Maybe being away from civilized society will remind you what it means to be human. Or maybe the elements will do what we could not. Either way, we wash our hands of you.”

I looked at Mira. She was safe, standing under the shadow of my sister. Her green eyes burned with a fierce, terrifying satisfaction. She had won. The village girl had toppled the Baron.

“You,” I snarled, pointing a shaking finger at her. “This is your fault, you little bitch. If I hadn't brought you here, this never would have happened!”

Sophia stepped forward, her hand resting on the hilt of her ceremonial dagger. “Actually, brother, thank you. You brought home exactly what we needed—proof that you are unfit for the crown you wear. Now, get out of my manor.”

Two guards—men I recognized, men who had once bowed to me—stepped forward and grabbed my arms. They didn't use the gentle touch reserved for nobility. They gripped me like a common criminal.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” I roared, struggling against them. But my body was a hindrance, not a weapon. I was too heavy to move easily and too weak to break their hold. They dragged me toward the massive double doors, my heels scuffing the marble as I screamed every curse, every threat, and every insult I could muster.

“I’ll kill you all! I’ll burn this place to the ground! Sophia, you cunt! Father, you spineless prick! I’ll come back for all of you!”

The doors slammed shut, cutting off the echo of my rage.

Viktor POV – The Lodge

Night had fallen by the time the carriage—a rickety, unheated thing that smelled of damp hay—dropped me off at the hunting lodge. This wasn't a noble retreat; it was a ruin. The roof leaked, the windows were drafty, and the only furniture was a sagging wooden chair and a bed that looked like it had been home to generations of rodents.

The two guards Sophia had assigned me stood outside the door, their silhouettes flickering in the moonlight. They were laughing about something—probably me.

I sat in the creaking chair, a bottle of the cheapest, sourest wine I’d ever tasted in my hand. I took a long swig, the liquid burning my throat like acid.

“Fuck…” I whispered to the empty, freezing room. “I really fucked up.”

I had been too arrogant. I thought the "villain" role meant I was invincible, that the world would just bend to my whims because I had the meta-knowledge. But I had forgotten one thing: in this world, I was the one everyone wanted to fail. Bringing Mira here had been the catalyst. I had handed my sister the very weapon she needed to gut me.

I touched the fading welts on my face, the skin still tender and hot.

“That fucking girl. I should have just taken her in the mud at the village and left her for the crows.” I drank again, the wine spilling down my multiple chins and staining my shirt. “Now I’m stuck in this shithole with two useless guards and a stipend that won't even buy a decent steak, while that prissy bitch Sophia plays at being Baroness.”

I stared into the cold, dark fireplace, the embers of my life extinguished.

The Hero—Leon Brightwood—still hadn't appeared. The plot of the novel was still in its infancy. There was still time to scheme, still time to find the "cheats" and the hidden items I remembered from the chapters I'd read. But for now, I was nothing but a fat man in a cold room.

I hurled the empty bottle against the stone wall, watching it shatter into a thousand jagged pieces.

“I’ll make them pay,” I hissed into the darkness. “Sophia, Mira, the whole goddamn family. When I come back, I won’t be the punchline of their jokes. I’ll be the nightmare that keeps them awake at night.”

Outside, I heard one of the guards mutter to his companion:

“Fat bastard finally got what was coming to him. Hope he freezes.”

My hands shook with a fury so cold it rivaled the wind outside. My new life had just become a fight for survival.