Claimed by Two Brothers

Prologue

The walls of the house had always grated on the nerves with their excessive luxury, pretentious grandeur, and-let's be honest-a noticeable layer of dust.

Makar had always preferred solitude, but with age, it had begun to look less like a conscious choice and more like an illness. He could have hired at least a housekeeper, yet the only staff member left was an elderly cook who no longer had the strength to keep the place in order. After the death of his best friend, the old man had lost what little will he had left, as though he were simply waiting for this meaningless life to run its course.

The brothers knew perfectly well why their grandfather had summoned them that morning, but the first hint of something unusual came when they realized their uncle-who, like them, had every right to the inheritance-was nowhere to be seen. Only the two of them, Makar himself, and the notary were present.

"Grandfather, why did you call us here so early?" Stas asked, dropping heavily into the armchair opposite the bed. He had clearly drunk far too much the night before and was now paying the price with a brutal hangover. Stanislav knew he was not good enough, had long since accepted that his older brother would inherit everything, and might, at best, share it with their uncle. Why he himself had been summoned, he honestly didn't understand.

Vlad stopped beside his younger brother and, in his usual manner, swept the room with a stern, assessing gaze.

The old man, who had been quietly conferring with the notary, broke off and looked at his grandsons. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and his eyes closed briefly. Makar couldn't understand where he had gone wrong in raising them. Perhaps their parents would have managed better, but they had died many years ago, leaving two boys in his care. He had truly loved those rascals, yet somehow everything had slipped through his fingers. That had to change.

"You both know perfectly well why I called you here. You, still partying, Stas?" the old man said with a faint chuckle. "And you, Vlad, have turned into a soulless machine. I can't leave my inheritance to a pair like you. Business is a serious matter. Logic and intelligence alone won't take you far-you need passion."

"I have no other choice. But I hope both of you straighten yourselves out."

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Vlad stiffened, hearing the iron resolve in his grandfather's voice. He knew all too well that once the old man made up his mind, there was no changing it.

The old man snapped. "Heaven help me, what ungrateful grandsons I have. In short, do you remember my old friend Albert? His granddaughter has grown up-a real beauty..."

A loud burst of laughter rang through the room, cutting him off again. Stas struggled to compose himself and finally managed to stop.

"Grandfather, you have a very unusual idea of beauty. Nadya is anything but beautiful. She's a bespectacled little goblin, not a girl. You're condemning Vlad to a lifetime of misery."

"And why Vlad, exactly?" The old man raised an eyebrow, cleared his throat, and continued. "Here's how it will be. The inheritance will go to whichever of you marries Batalov's granddaughter. Notary, please write that down. If, within six months of my death, either Stas or Vlad fails to marry Nadezhda Batalova, everything goes to my son, Darvin Sergey."

"Have you lost your mind?" Vlad finally exploded, fully grasping the trap he had just walked into. "Uncle will destroy the business!"

"You have a chance to prevent that. For those six months, he will manage the company, and the two of you will have plenty of time to court the girl."

"What's there to court?" Stas snorted, glancing at his brother and clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Just convince her to marry and be done with it. It won't even take six months. I doubt there's a line of men eager to marry that fool."

"Oh no." The old man wagged a finger. "Notary, I want you to personally ensure that no one pressures the girl. She must walk down the aisle of her own free will. I will not tolerate any sham marriages."

"I'll make a note of that," the notary replied, carefully recording his client's words before adding with a polite smile, "It will be my pleasure, Mr. Makar."

"I never thought you'd saddle us with something like this," Vlad growled, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

The silence didn't last long. Vlad soon returned, and a full-blown argument erupted. Stas, however, couldn't have cared less about what was happening inside. He quietly slipped out of the house, hoping for a breath of fresh air. It was late spring, and the days were already growing so hot that even early morning offered only a brief, fragile coolness. Sitting on a bench near the porch, he tilted his face toward the sun and smiled. Who would have thought the old man would come up with such a ridiculous condition? Fortunately, it had nothing to do with him.

A few minutes later, Vlad stepped outside. He sat down beside his younger brother and buried his face in his hands.

"Stubborn old man."

"Couldn't talk him out of it?" Stas asked smugly.

"How could I? You know perfectly well that's impossible."

"I don't get you, brother. You've always been ready to carry the business on your shoulders, so what's the problem? Think of it as a small, unpleasant addition to enormous money and endless opportunities. You don't want to leave everything to our dear uncle, do you?"

"And I see you're not planning to join the fight for the business?" Vlad rose, took a few steps away, and leaned against a tree. Stroking his dark beard, he considered the situation more seriously than he had at first. He really could lose everything. Who knew what kind of damage Uncle Sergey might do while he was busy chasing after that girl?

"I don't need this business badly enough to doom myself to that fate. Every time I picture that skinny girl with her thin white braids, round glasses, and-"

"That's enough. I feel sick just thinking about her."

"Look at it from another angle. She's an only child and the sole heir to the Batalov fortune. Can you imagine what a profitable match that would be?"

"Maybe-if you ignore the fact that I'd have to share a bed with her."

Silence settled between the brothers. The situation was grim.

"Listen," Stas said, looking at him. "Maybe Grandpa will change his mind. He's still strong. He'll live a long time, and one day..."

"I really hope so," Vlad replied quietly.

A soft knock at the door instantly cleared my mind. The notebook in front of me blurred, and I pushed it aside. I would come back to it later.

"Come in," I said. My mom stepped in unhurriedly and paused in the doorway, staring at me in open disbelief. Her gaze traveled slowly from head to toe, widening every time it landed on yet another detail she clearly found unacceptable.

I had only returned late last night after a less-than-successful exam session, and I had already managed to disappoint one of my parents.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, noticing the way Mom wrinkled her perfectly made-up nose. I still couldn't understand why she had dressed up and done full glam for a funeral instead of, well, a fashion show.

"Why the glasses? Where are your contacts?" she demanded, already rifling through my wardrobe as if she might magically uncover something more appropriate.

"I lost my last pair of contacts, so the glasses will have to do. I'll stop by the optometrist and order new ones as soon as I can."

"Unbelievable. Is there really nothing better?" she snapped, spinning sharply toward me. She looked from me to herself and back again, looking at my awful black T-shirt and leggings as if comparing us in some invisible mirror. She scoffed, already heading for the door. "Take that disaster off. I'll bring you my pantsuit-I just bought it."

She returned a few minutes later with a stunning suit, but I didn't even bother trying it on. One glance was enough to know it wouldn't work. My waist was much slimmer than hers, while my hips were wider. The jacket wouldn't close over my chest, let alone sit properly over the silk blouse underneath.

The eco-leather headscarf, however, was actually beautiful. I'd seen something similar in a recent runway collection. Snatching the soft triangle from her hands, I tied it over my head, deliberately knotting it under my chin so no one would recognize me.

"This is a nightmare. Take it off immediately!" she exclaimed. "Nadya, I know it's a funeral, but all our acquaintances will be there. We're going to the store. Now."

"There's no time," I said, grabbing my purse from the table. "Let's go. I can survive one day like this."

"This is unbelievable. Both Darvins will be there, and you look like-"

At the mention of those two, my face tightened. Two arrogant peacocks who had poisoned my life since childhood. I despised them. As soon as the funeral and the reception were over, I would leave immediately. "Mom, please don't start again about those two. You know Dad is on my side, and if I tell him-"

"Fine. I get it. Let's go," she said irritably, nudging me toward the door.

The driver was pacing on the porch and hurried forward when he saw us. "What are you planning to do today?" Mom asked as the car pulled away."We'll have guests, so be home by eight."

"Who?" I asked quietly, then repeated more firmly. "Who's coming?"

"It's a secret," she replied with a mysterious smile. "By the way, your father called this morning."

"When will Dad be back from his trip?"

"He said early next week. He misses you. You're hardly ever home..."

"I'm studying," I shot back. "Two more years, and then I'll come back and help him with the company."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Nadya," she said hesitantly, fidgeting with her purse. She was clearly nervous, trying to say something important but unable to get the words out.

"If this is about me continuing a modeling career, no," I said firmly. "I only do it because I don't want to live off you, and it pays well."

"That's not it, but... never mind. We'll talk at home."

She fell silent as the car turned into the parking lot of the city cemetery and came to a stop.

An enormous crowd had gathered to say goodbye to Makar Darvin. As long as I could remember, I had liked him. He reminded me of my grandfather-just as kind, just as warm. He had built an immense fortune and somehow remained human. Business ruins people, but it hadn't broken him. He was proof that success didn't have to cost you your soul, and the reason I now supported myself completely, without relying on my parents.

His grandsons, however, were another story. Two spoiled, arrogant heirs who believed they were superior to everyone else on this planet.

I stepped out of the car and followed my mother toward a cluster of familiar faces. I hung back, lingering at the edge of the crowd. The funeral procession moved slowly along the path, and I walked near the end. When it stopped, and people formed a semicircle around the grave where Makar would soon be lowered, I still couldn't fully grasp what was happening.

But when I reached the front row, I couldn't hold back the tears. Mom appeared beside me just in time, placing her hands on my shoulders, trying to comfort me while crying herself.

Then it hit me like a lightning bolt.

My entire body jolted as I scanned the crowd, searching for the source.

There they were.

The Darvin brothers.

One looked at me as if he wanted to kill me. The other openly mocked me, dragging his gaze over me without shame. Their grandfather was being buried, and they were staring at me like that... I couldn't even find the right word for it.

"Mom, I'm not feeling well. I'm going to step aside," I said, forcing my way backward through the crowd, desperate to escape their eyes.

"Are you alright? Do you need help?" she asked, gripping my hand.

"I'll wait by the car. It's just... too much for me here."

"Alright, sweetheart. But if you feel worse, ask me to take you to the hospital."

I nodded and headed toward the exit.

Turning around at that moment was a terrible mistake.

The older brother was following me.

"What am I, paranoid now?" I muttered under my breath. Maybe he felt unwell too and had decided to leave.

I tried to convince myself of that, but still quickened my pace, weaving between rows of gravestones. At one point, they disappeared when I glanced back again.

A sigh of relief had barely left my lips when I ran straight into an obstacle that hadn't been there just seconds ago.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The brothers had done their grieving the day before, the moment they received the news. There was nothing more to be done- their grandfather had been well into old age and had lived a long, full life. Still, it was painful to watch the once commanding man, who had loved life with such ferocity, carried along the narrow path in a coffin, soon to be lowered into a depth from which there was no return.

The Darvins stood in silence throughout the ceremony, leaving all the arrangements to their uncle. Vlad's attention drifted to a young woman standing on the opposite side of the grave. He clung to the hope, right up until the last second, that it wasn't Nadya. But that hope vanished the moment Katerina stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter.

Over the years, he had assumed the girl would change-grow into her looks, maybe even become beautiful. Apparently, no such miracle had occurred. Hideous, shapeless leggings. An oversized black T-shirt. The glasses he could tolerate, but what on earth was she wearing on her head? A babushka scarf?

"Unbelievable," Stas muttered beside him, letting out a low chuckle.

"What are you talking about?" Vlad snapped irritably.

"Don't you remember that chocolate bar from when we were kids? The one with the girl in a headscarf on the wrapper?" Stas smirked. "Well, there she is. Look at her."

Vlad nearly lost his temper and shot his brother a lethal look. Not because Stas had insulted his fiancée- but because he was infuriatingly right. This was not the kind of woman Vlad envisioned at his side, much less for the rest of his life.

"Well done, Grandpa," he muttered darkly.

He noticed the girl turning away, clearly intending to leave. And where exactly did she think she was going? The nerve. His grandfather had loved her more than his own grandsons, and she couldn't even stay until the ceremony was over? He wouldn't allow her to dishonor the old man's memory.

Vlad, cutting across another path to intercept her, just as he expected, caught up to her in a few long strides. She walked straight into him, not even noticing he had stepped into her path. Her startled eyes flew up to his, and she froze, holding her breath.

Up close, things weren't entirely hopeless. Her skin was clear and well cared for. Full lips. A nicely shaped nose. Not a complete disaster. He could mold this girl into something acceptable. Something worthy of standing beside him. And who knew- perhaps one day he might even want her.

"Where do you think you're going?" Vlad growled, seizing her wrist when she tried to step back. "Do you think this is appropriate, considering everything our grandfather did for you?"

"I just wasn't feeling well, that's all..." she said, trying to pull free.

"You look perfectly fine to me. We're going back before people start talking."

He tugged her along without the slightest concern for whether it hurt. Girls like her should be grateful he paid them any attention at all.

"Let go," she snapped, finally wrenching her hand free. "What gives you the right to grab me like that? You're his grandson. You're the one who shouldn't have walked away."

Nadya's expression shifted-steady now, more assured. She rubbed the spot on her wrist where his fingers had dug in.

What right did he have? As her future husband, every right. But it was far too soon for her to know that.

"Go back and wait quietly until it's over. After that, you're free to do whatever you like."

Infuriating little thing, he thought bitterly.

She gave him a faint, incredulous smile, then turned sharply and almost ran toward the exit.

"Looks like I'll have to work on your manners as well as your appearance," Vlad muttered as he headed back. There was no time to chase his bride now. In one respect, she was right-he was Makar's grandson, and his place was there.

The ceremony was drawing to a close, and the final farewell began. The brothers stepped forward first to say goodbye to their grandfather, followed by their uncle, who looked more devastated than anyone else present.

When the last of the mourners began tossing handfuls of earth into the grave, people gradually made their way toward the exit.

A woman approached the Darvins and offered her condolences-words they had heard so many times that day they had lost count. But coming from Katerina, they carried more weight. After all, she was their future mother-in-law.

"Mrs. Katerina, thank you for coming to pay your respects," Stas said politely, though a faint smile tugged at his mouth as he fought the familiar urge to provoke his brother.

"Boys, I can't even begin to imagine your loss," the woman said softly. "That man was like a father to you."

"Yes, you're right. It won't be easy without his support," Vlad replied, adopting the solemn expression expected of a grieving grandson. "But despite everything, I hope our meeting this evening is still on?"

"Of course. I'm very much looking forward to seeing you both tonight."

"Oh no, I won't be there," Stas said lightly, lifting his hands and stepping aside. "I've already made other plans. All the best."

The younger Darvin strolled down the path, leaving Vlad alone with the woman.

"I'll come alone, if you don't mind," Vlad said smoothly. "There's something important I need to discuss with you, and I can't postpone it any longer. May I assume Nadya will be joining us for dinner?"

"Of course," Katerina replied with a warm smile. "Nadya is very much looking forward to this evening."

"Then I'll see you tonight, Mrs. Katerina."