Claimed by the Wrong Wolfe

CHAPTER FOUR

Tristan's POV

“Hello, Mr. Wolfe.“

Tristan's throat tightened; he couldn't say a word. He couldn't extend a hand either. He was just staring at her. The more he looks, the more absurd the scene becomes.

How interesting?

The same woman he had rejected six years ago was the CEO of House of V.

For two years now, that name has been a thorn in his flesh. From the media's comparison between House of V and Wolfe Conglomerate Fashion Empire, to the House of V securing contracts meant for his company, to her launching viral campaigns that almost dominated his brand.

He was curious, obsessed even about the CEO of the company. But no matter how hard he investigated, there was no name. No pictures. Just the story of a young woman who built her company from the ground up, fueled by the rejection of the man she once loved. The media tagged her narrative as 'Rejection to Revolution.'

She almost took the contract for the first lady's birthday dresses if not that his father pulled strings on his behalf. Then the first lady decided that both companies would work together, since she couldn't forfeit one for the other.

Tristan was angry when his father shared the news with him. He couldn't believe a newbie in the industry dared to cross him again. After a few days, his anger was replaced by commendation. He was impressed by her success and had looked forward to their collaboration.

All through the night, he was so nervous about meeting her. He already planned on how he was going to ask her how she managed to achieve great success in such a short period of time.

A bitter laugh bubbled in his throat as he wondered why he never suspected it. He felt disappointed. He should have known that everything was more personal than professional.

“Mr. Wolfe,” Vivian's subtly mocking voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Mrs. Carter glanced back at him, confused about his silence.

“Yes.“ He forced a smile at her taking her hand. “Tristan Wolfe.“

“Nice meeting you,” she said in a tone that wouldn't even hint that they've met before let alone shared a history.

How did she manage to keep such a straight face? Yet, he's struggling to hold himself together.

She would have made a career in acting too, he thought.

“Have a seat.“ She gestured towards the couch behind them.

They took the seat.

She took a seat across from them, crossing her legs gracefully like a queen in her palace.

She turned squarely to Mrs. Carter. “I was so happy when I received the first lady's call. It's such an honour for my talent to be recognised by her.“

“You make great dresses, Miss Lawrence. I'm a huge fan of yours even though we've never seen you in public,” Mrs. Carter said, her voice brimming with happiness as if she had just seen her idol. “This thirtieth birthday party is everything to the first lady.“

Vivian offered a smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Carter, for the compliment. Is there any story behind it that she would like to share? I love creating outfits that tell a story,” Vivian said.

Tristan dragged down his tie, which was starting to suffocate him. He feels left out of the conversation. All he did was sit there while trying so hard not to stare at the powerful woman sitting in front of him.

“Yes…. The first lady shares almost the same story with you.“

“Same story?“ Vivian asked, curious.

“Yes… she was rejected by her first love and society for being an illegitimate daughter, so she vowed to become someone important. She studied hard, worked her way to the top, and then attracted the attention of the president who is now head over heels for her.“

Tristan swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the air conditioner in the room.

“Oh,” Vivian says. Then her tone turned darker. “Men who reject ladies who love them are assholes. They don't deserve to live.“

The smile on Mrs. Carter's face vanished at the chill in Vivian's voice; she was almost scared.

Then Vivian turned towards Tristan. “Isn't that so, Mr. Wolfe? “

Tristan fell silent, and all heads turned to him. Tristan knows what she is doing. She is trying to make him admit that he is an asshole.

“Sure.“ He forced a smile.

Then they all burst into laughter.

Mia served them tea as they continued the conversation.

Tristan couldn't help but admire Vivian. She is so beautiful. So professional. She wasn't just creating outfits, she creates masterpieces that make a statement.

“Alright,” Mrs. Carter finally said, standing up. “I will leave you both to it.“

She exchanged handshakes with both of them and walked out of the room.

The moment Mrs. Carter left and the door clicked shut, silence blanketed the room—cold and suffocating.

Vivian flipped through her sketchbook with a grace that almost looked rehearsed. As if she weren’t sitting across from the man who once broke her heart. As if he didn’t even matter anymore. And maybe… he didn’t. Not after everything.

But Tristan couldn’t take it. Several unanswered questions were running through his damn mind.

"Vivian,” he said quietly, yanking off his tie completely. “Can you explain… everything?”

She didn't even bother to lift her eyes. “Everything? I don't understand.“

“You disappeared,” he said, voice low. “No calls. No texts. Nothing. And now I find out that you’re the woman behind the company that’s been tearing my brand apart—”

He stopped talking, realising it was not wise to admit that she's been getting to him.

That caught her attention and she looked up. Her gaze was sharp enough to cut through him. “I owe you no explanation, Mr. Wolfe,” she said coldly. “This is a meeting to discuss dresses. Nothing more. Especially not to entertain your questions about my personal life.”

He didn't listen. “But where did you go?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “Six years ago, you just… vanished. I woke up and you were gone.”

Vivian’s eyes glittered, her expression annoyingly calm as if she was revelling in his frustrated outburst. “You don’t get to ask me that,” she snapped. “Not after what you said to me. What you did.”

“I was wrong—”

“That’s right,” she cut in. “You were. But don’t you dare pretend that you care now.”

He clenched his jaw, his fists digging into his palms. “So what? Is House of V some kind of revenge? You built an empire just to get back at me?”

Vivian closed her sketchbook and stood up slowly. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous. “Revenge?“ She scoffed. “I have no idea what you're talking about. Business is what I'm doing, Mr. Wolfe.“

He lost his cool completely and sprang to his feet. “You think I didn’t look for you? I searched everywhere, Vivian! You think I'll just let you go? One day I came home and found every damn thing I ever gave you dumped on my doorstep like garbage!”

Vivian blinked once. Slowly. Her voice was ice when she finally spoke. “It wasn’t garbage. I simply returned the ridiculous prices you put on me.“

The word stung deeper than he cared to admit. Prices.

He couldn't take it anymore. He might do what he would regret if he stayed an additional second. “I have another meeting,” he lied, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. “We’ll reschedule.”

Vivian gave a short nod. “That’s fine, Mr. Wolfe. You should get in touch with my assistant anytime you're ready.”

Without another glance at her, he turned and stormed toward the door, trying to bury the turmoil rising inside him.

As the elevator door chimes open, a little boy of about five to six years ran out and past Tristan—barely missing colliding into him.

The small voice shrieked with excitement.

“Mom!”