Chapter 3

CLARA

"Mrs. Vance."

The words hung in the air, heavy as lead and terrifyingly permanent.

My heart hammered so violently against my ribs I thought it would shatter them. Gabriel’s large, warm fingers were still wrapped around my ice-cold hand, holding me anchored beside his massive leather wheelchair. The heat radiating off his palm felt like a brand, scorching straight through my skin.

My father looked as if he had been struck by lightning. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. "Mr. Vance! You can't be serious! You signed the marriage certificate, but... but you revoked our debt relief? That wasn't the deal! If you take away the financial backing, our company will go bankrupt by the end of the week!"

Gabriel didn't even turn his head. He adjusted the cuff of his charcoal jacket with his free hand, his expression as cold and indifferent as stone.

"The deal was made for Evelyn Montgomery," Gabriel said, his gravelly voice cutting through my father's panicked screeching. "You tried to pass off a substitute bride while keeping the prize for yourselves. You committed fraud, Richard. I could have my legal team put you in prison by midnight. Be grateful I’m only taking your company."

"No! Please!" my mother wailed, pushing herself up from the pew, her face pale under her heavy makeup. "Clara is nothing! She’s damaged goods! She has no manners, no education, no standing in society! If you want a bride, take Evelyn! We'll bring her right now! We'll force her!"

I felt Gabriel’s grip on my hand tighten—not to hurt me, but with a sharp, controlled tension. A dark, dangerous aura flared around him so intensely that the air in the cathedral seemed to drop ten degrees.

"If Evelyn Montgomery sets foot near my estate," Gabriel rasped, his storm-grey eyes sliding toward my parents with lethal promise, "I will ensure she never sets foot anywhere again. You brought me, Clara. She signed the registry. She belongs to the Vance family now."

He released my hand, but before I could take a breath of relief, he tapped the control panel on his wheelchair. The electric motor hummed silently as he spun the chair toward the center aisle.

"Luke," Gabriel commanded his chief guard, the man who was still pointing a silenced pistol at my father's forehead.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Escort my wife to the car. If anyone from the Montgomery family tries to speak to her, shoot them."

"Understood, Boss."

Luke lowered the weapon just an inch and stepped toward me, gesturing for me to move ahead. My legs felt like lead, trembling so badly beneath the heavy layers of Evelyn’s discarded silk gown that I could barely keep my balance. I looked back one last time. My father was glaring at me with pure, murderous hatred, while my mother clutched her chest, sobbing hysterically over their ruined fortune.

For eighteen years, they had treated me like trash beneath their feet. Today, I had cost them everything. But as I walked down the long carpeted aisle toward the heavy double doors, terror gripped me tighter than victory ever could.

I hadn't escaped a nightmare. I had just walked out of a small cage and into the lion's den.

---

The storm outside had turned violent. Heavy raindrops lashed against the dark, bulletproof glass of the sleek black Maybach idling in the church driveway.

Luke opened the rear door for me, his expression unreadable. I practically fell into the plush leather interior, shivering as the chill of the wet air caught my bare shoulders. Seconds later, the heavy door on the opposite side opened. A specialized mechanical ramp lowered from the bottom of the van behind us, but Gabriel didn't use a van.

Instead, two suited men carefully lifted Gabriel from his wheelchair and placed him into the back seat beside me.

The moment his broad frame settled onto the leather cushion, the vehicle felt suffocatingly small. He filled the space entirely—not just with his size, but with a predatory presence that made every nerve in my body scream in alarm. The sharp, intoxicating scent of expensive cedarwood, rain, and raw leather washed over me, instantly drowning out the smell of damp mold from my basement cell.

The driver pulled out into the downpour, the engine purring like a sleeping beast.

Silence stretched inside the car, so thick and heavy I could hear the rapid, erratic beat of my own heart. I pulled my arms tight around my chest, staring fixedly at my mud-stained satin shoes, praying he wouldn't look at me.

"Are you going to stare at the floor all night, Clara?"

His deep, rasping voice shattered the quiet.

I flinched, my head snapping up. Gabriel was leaning back against the leather headrest, his long fingers loosely intertwined over his lap. In the dim light of the streetlamps flickering past the tinted window, the jagged scar along his left jawline stood out starkly against his sharp, regal features. His grey eyes were locked onto me, calculating, sharp, and utterly ruthless.

"I... I am sorry, Mr. Vance," I managed to say, my throat feeling dry as sand.

"Gabriel," he corrected coldly. "You are my wife now, aren't you? At least on paper."

"Only because you wanted to save your stock price," I whispered before I could stop myself. The moment the words left my mouth, I bit my lip, terrified of my own foolish bravery.

Gabriel’s dark eyebrows rose slightly. A shadow of a cruel, intrigued smile touched his lips.

"Observant," he noted, his voice smooth as whiskey. "Yes. I don't like looking like a fool to the board of directors. But make no mistake—I don't keep useless things in my house, Clara. Your parents used you as a sacrificial lamb. Why shouldn't I do the same?"

A cold shiver ran down my spine. The rumors about him flooded back into my mind. *The dark fortress. The vanished fiancées. The tyrant who broke anyone who crossed him.*

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper above the sound of rain pounding on the roof. "Are you going to lock me away too?"

Gabriel leaned forward slowly. The movement was smooth, but the intense power in his upper body was undeniable. He reached out, his long fingers catching my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up until I was forced to look directly into his stormy eyes. His thumb brushed over the bruised, swollen flesh of my cheek, surprisingly gentle for a man built like a weapon.

"You think I'm a monster, don't you?" he asked quietly, his eyes darkening.

"Everyone says you are," I gasped, my skin tingling where his warm fingers touched my face.

"They're right," Gabriel whispered, his thumb pressing just a fraction harder against my skin, sending a jolt of tension straight down to my toes. "I destroy my enemies without mercy. I ruin lives for fun. And right now, Clara Montgomery... you are in my domain."

The car smoothly glided through a massive, wrought-iron gate that creaked open into the dark forest. High on the cliff ahead, towering over the crashing waves of the ocean, stood the Vance mansion—a sprawling, imposing fortress of dark stone and black glass.

The Maybach ground to a halt beneath the grand stone portico.

Gabriel let go of my chin, sliding his hand back to his lap. The doors were thrown open by guards in black uniforms, holding dark umbrellas against the howling wind.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Vance," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a thrilling, dangerous register that sent a shiver down my spine. "Let's see how long you survive."