Tainted Love

Chapter 4

Inside one of the most luxurious bars in the city—where the lights were dim but the wealth spoke loudly—strip dancers moved with sensual confidence, drawing eyes like magnets. The air was thick with perfume, cologne, and lust. Women in provocative outfits laughed too hard at dry jokes, while wealthy men gripped glasses of premium liquor, their eyes scouting for pleasure.

Amidst this charged atmosphere, two young men sat in a corner booth draped in velvet—Samuel and his closest friend, Eliga. Both were dressed sharply, sipping whiskey as their conversation drifted from laughter to something heavier.

"She doesn't even care about herself," Eliga said, tilting his glass. "Why do you care so much?"

Samuel sighed, running a hand down his face. "Come on, man. It doesn’t even make sense. Vivian is... she's beautiful, rich, intelligent. But look at the man she's obsessed with—Victor? Are you kidding me? That guy’s a walking disaster."

Eliga chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You're overreacting, Sam. This is too intense for someone you're 'just concerned' about. Be honest with me—do you love her?"

Samuel gave a half-hearted scoff. "Come on, Eliga. I’m just concerned, that’s all. Love? Nah, she’s not even my type. And even if I liked her, trust me, she’d be mine already."

"Mhmm," Eliga teased, leaning forward with a smirk. "Alright, Mr. 'She’d Be Mine Already.' But relax with the poetry. From Vivian Dary to Vivian Fren? Hahaha! We live to see strange things—wait. Man. Look over there."

Samuel turned in the direction Eliga pointed, and his jaw clenched immediately. There, in the VIP section, was Victor. Draped in a designer shirt half-buttoned, gold chains dangling, he was surrounded by more than six women, each vying for his attention, whispering into his ears and flaunting their best angles.

Samuel’s grip on his glass tightened.

“That’s some nerve,” he muttered. “For someone who won’t even be graduating with his year group after four solid years.”

The sarcasm dripped like poison, and it cut through the noise straight into Victor's ears. He snapped out of his pleasure trance, eyes narrowing as he rose from his seat.

"What the hell did you just say?" he snarled, storming toward Samuel.

Samuel stood his ground, sliding one hand into his pocket while swirling the remaining whiskey in his glass. His expression was calm—too calm. The kind that infuriates a man used to fear.

“What makes you think you can speak to me like that?” Victor barked.

“Oh, I don’t need to think,” Samuel replied with a smirk. “If anyone should be thinking, it’s you. Maybe about why you treat Vivian like trash when she practically feeds you.”

Victor laughed, but it was hollow, laced with venom. “So this is what it’s about? My girlfriend? Big man, don’t be an idiot.”

Samuel’s eyes darkened. “Did you just call me an i***t? Well, at least I’m graduating with my class. Can you say the same?”

That landed like a slap. Victor’s face twisted in rage. He closed the gap between them, their noses nearly touching. “Don’t play with me, Samuel. I’m from the streets. I can teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

Samuel let out a short laugh, and in doing so, a speck of saliva sprayed Victor’s face.

It all happened in a flash.

Victor’s fist connected with Samuel’s jaw, sending him crashing backward over the seat. Blood pooled from the corner of his lip as he lay dazed. Victor c****d his fist again, but the bouncers were faster. Two massive men seized him, dragging him out before he could land another blow.

Eliga knelt beside Samuel, lifting him gently. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Samuel spat blood on the floor, his jaw trembling with pain and fury. “He’s not getting away with this.”

---

At the Dary Mansion, inside an opulent dining hall that could rival a royal palace, Vivian squealed with joy.

“Daddy! Fifty million dollars just for graduating?!” she exclaimed, nearly dropping her glass of juice.

Her father chuckled, clearly enjoying her excitement. “Vivian, you’re the daughter of the wealthiest man in this entire region. Giving you just fifty million is an insult to my status. So here's what I’m really giving you: choose any house you want—villa, mansion, palace. A car or two of your choice. A vacation to anywhere in the world. And very soon, I’ll hand over the company to you, but you’ll have to undergo proper training first.”

Vivian screamed with delight, leaping from her seat to hug him tightly. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you so much!”

She ran to her mother, hugging her with just as much enthusiasm. “Thank you, Mummy!” she cried, kissing her on both cheeks before twirling around the dining hall like a little girl.

“I’m so proud of you, bestie,” Cecilia said as she entered the room, wiping away a tear. “You deserve all of it. Congratulations!”

---

Later, in Vivian’s massive, chandelier-lit bedroom, the excitement still bubbled.

“So, which house should I pick?” Vivian asked, flopping onto her velvet couch. “Should I go with a villa? Or a mansion? Ugh, why is this so hard?”

“Relax, Viv,” Cecilia laughed. “Your dad didn’t give you a deadline. Think it through. This is a big decision.”

“I know, I know. I’m just so excited.” She twirled in front of her full-length mirror. “Okay, Ceci, guess what I’m thinking right now?”

“You want me to guess? You’re the most unpredictable person I know!”

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.” Vivian turned dramatically, her hands clasped under her chin. “I’m thinking about my wedding.”

Cecilia raised an eyebrow. “Your what now?”

“My wedding! I want it to be grand. A fairytale. I’m going to invest a ridiculous amount of money into it. It’ll be the talk of the town. You’ll be my chief bridesmaid, of course!”

Vivian clapped her hands, already lost in her fantasy.

“Well,” Cecilia said with a nervous laugh, “it’ll definitely make history. Your future husband must be someone special. Successful. Refined.”

Vivian’s expression darkened. “Ceci…”

“What?”

“Stop being sarcastic. You know Victor isn’t perfect, but he’s who I love.”

Cecilia blinked. “Wait, wait—you’re planning to marry Victor?”

“Of course. Why else would we be dating?”

Cecilia let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her head as if mourning. “Vivian. You’re actually serious. You’re going to make Victor your husband? Sweet Jesus.”

“Ceci! Don’t be dramatic.”

“I have to be dramatic. If I ever attend a wedding between you and Victor, may lightning strike me. Over my dead body!”

Vivian gasped. “What?! You can’t say that—”

“I just did. Chief bridesmaid? No way. If you marry him, you're not just making a mistake—you’re digging your own grave with a golden shovel.” With that She returned to her pressing her phone.