HEAVENLY PAIN MARRIAGE

The front door creaks open, and I sprint from my room, heart pounding after waiting for him for hours. I know it’s Jax—he always comes back at this ungodly hour after vanishing all night. “Jaxon Harper!” I shout as I reach the door, my fingers clutching the paper I found in his room last night.There he is, standing in the doorway. His dark hair is disheveled, and his skin has that sickly pale tint. Probably another night of drinking and partying. He stumbles in, not even glancing my way, like this is just another morning in his chaotic routine.I shove the paper in his face. "What the hell is this, Jaxon Harper?" My voice cracks with sheer disbelief. "An agreement? A marriage? Did you just sell me off to some random billionaire?Jax barely glances at me, tossing his jacket onto the couch like it's just another Tuesday. "I didn’t expect you to find out this way," he mutters, fiddling with his phone and avoiding my gaze.I stare, disbelief boiling inside me. "That’s it? So you’ve been

The rooftop venue glimmers under the morning sun, but none of it feels real to me. I sit alone at a table tucked into the garden’s corner, far from the laughter and clinking champagne glasses. This isn’t a wedding; it’s a transaction wrapped in extravagance. Guests buzz around like bees in a gilded hive, chatting and congratulating, oblivious to the suffocating weight in my chest. Maximilian’s friends and family swarm through the garden, each one effortlessly fitting into this world he dragged me into three days ago—a world I don’t belong to. “Oh, the bride is beautiful! What a dress!” “I heard the wedding was arranged quickly. No one expecting this marriage before.” “Strange, isn't it? But look at this—he spared no expense, proofing everything.” “She’s lucky. It’s Maximilian Milton, after all. Who wouldn’t want to be in her shoes?” Lucky. That word cuts through me. I glance at the ring on my finger, a sparkling band I never wanted. My thumb rubs the cold metal as if tryin

The moment I lift my gaze, the air leaves my lungs—it’s him.“Are you gonna leave your husband just like this, right after the wedding party?”Maximilian. Sitting across from me like a ghost from a nightmare. I blink, hoping he’ll disappear, but no—he’s real. He found me.He looks terrible. The usual sharp elegance is gone—dark hair disheveled, stubble shadowing his jaw, and cold, bloodshot eyes ringed with exhaustion. His suit is wrinkled, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He seems worn down, but far from defeated.Maximilian leans back, jaw tight, struggling to maintain control. His gaze locks onto mine, steady yet simmering with restrained anger.“How did you...?”He cuts me off, leaning in with infuriating calm, like he’s already won. “If I missed your train, I would’ve taken my helicopter.” A pause, heavy with meaning. “Understand your position now?” His voice drops, sharp and deliberate. “Stop causing trouble.”The words hit like a slap. My nails dig into my palms to stop my hands

Ariadne had spent the entire night asleep on the sofa, her exhaustion deepened by hours of silent tears.Feeling an odd weight over her, she slowly opened her eyes, only to find a pair of long legs planted directly in front of her face. She tilted her gaze upward and saw Maximilian, dressed casually in a black sweater, standing over her.He looked better than last night she saw him, but still, his expression was as cold and unfeeling as ever.Ariadne’s tired eyes narrowed into a sharp, icy stare as she remained lying on the sofa, now fully aware of who was interrupting her morning.“The breakfast is ready,” Maximilian said with no warmth, no suggestion. “Clean up and join me.”Ariadne let out a bitter sigh. “I don’t know why you keep showing up in front of me,” she said, her voice laced with resentment. “You say you don’t mean to make my life a living hell, yet that’s exactly what you’re doing.”Maximilian paused, turning back to look at Ariadne, still sprawled on the sofa. “You’re ri

Ariadne had been trapped in Maximilian's penthouse for two weeks, each day blending into the next. The sleek, elegant space felt more like a gilded prison than the luxurious sanctuary it was intended to be. She sat listlessly on the expansive, minimalist sofa, the enormous television casting familiar scenes, but nothing held her interest. Instead, she found herself fixated on her own toes, rhythmically tapping against the plush cushions, offering a small distraction from the monotony.Irritation simmered beneath the surface; her patience was wearing thin. A fleeting impulse urged her to kick the glass coffee table in front of her, to shatter something, to break the stillness. But even that urge faded quickly—she couldn’t bring herself to destroy anything so costly. And if she did, Maximilian would undoubtedly demand she replace it, just one more chain in the opulent cage he’d crafted for her.But he hadn’t been back since that night. Two weeks, and nothing. She wasn’t waiting for him,