I Got Married For Revenge

•~•Solane’s POV

I never thought I’d be standing at the altar, exchanging vows with the man who had his mother kill me.

Yet here I was, clutching a bouquet of roses I had handpicked, wearing the most beautiful dress ever, ready to marry him under a new name and face. All for revenge.

“Do you, Solane Blackwood, take Nathaniel Grant to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”

Once upon a time, the girl I used to be—Irene Lancaster, would’ve said yes without a second thought because she believed in the disaster called love.

But reality has a way of shattering even the prettiest illusions. Now I know, love is just a fairytale we try to force into reality—A poison disguised as nectar, sweet until it makes you sick.

My gaze flickered to Nathaniel, seated in his wheelchair, hands resting neatly in his lap, his expression unreadable as he looked up at me.

Once, I would have melted under that gaze. He was my world, my everything. I had even convinced myself he was one of those rare, perfect men—like the ones written about in romance novels.

Five years have passed, but it still feels like yesterday when my dream love came crashing down. And I still ask myself the same question—Was I foolish to believe in him, or was I just too blind to see the truth?

In the end, I realized I was both. I wasn’t special. I wasn’t different, like he said I was. I was just another girl he used, then tossed aside.

“Do you, Solane Blackwood, take Nathaniel Grant to be your lawfully wedded husband?…” 

My heart pounded so hard it blocked out the rest of the priest's words as he asked again.

My lips parted to answer, and for a moment, I wondered if I could go through with it. But then I remembered the cliff, the fall, the betrayal….

---

Five Years Ago

---

“You must be the thing carrying my grandchild.” 

She was older—maybe in her late fifties—and dressed in a black coat that flared dramatically against the wind.

She stood right in front of me on the cliff, flanked by two men in matching dark suits, staring at me as if I were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"You're Nathaniel’s mother, aren’t you?" I asked, my voice far steadier than I felt.

She studied me for a moment, her gaze cold and calculating, before a slow smirk curled at the corners of her lips.

"Yes, Melissa Grant," she replied, her voice clipped, the smirk never faltering. "And meeting you… well, it’s far from a pleasure, Irene Lancaster."

My stomach twisted as she spat my name, wrapped in disdain like it was some kind of curse.

"Where’s Nathaniel?" I asked, trying to sound unaffected. "He told me to come here. He said—"

"He won't be coming," she interrupted smoothly, her tone as cold as the wind itself.

A cold knot settled in my chest, and nausea rolled in waves. "Why? Why wouldn’t he come?"

Her smirk twisted into a mocking smile as she opened her mouth to answer, but then the shrill ring of a phone cut her off. Reaching into her coat, she pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen.

“Speak of the devil,” she muttered, before answering in a casual tone. “Hello son.”

The voice that crackled through was unmistakably Nathaniel’s. "Have you seen her yet?"

His words made it sound like I was some problem that needed to be handled, and it made my stomach churn.

Melissa’s eyes gleamed with malice as she replied, “Yes, she’s right in front of me. Don’t worry, darling. I’ll handle everything… as always.”

The call ended, and she slid the phone back into her coat like it was no more than a minor inconvenience.

The words—‘I’ll handle everything, as always’ hung in the air, a weight pressing down on my chest.

I wanted to demand answers, to ask what she meant by that, but before I could form the words, she suddenly stepped closer, her presence too overpowering to ignore.

"Let’s not waste each other’s time, shall we?" she said, her voice much colder and carrying a hint of something I couldn’t quite place.

"How much will it take for you to disappear and rid my son of this... unwanted child?"

The insult felt like a punch to the gut, leaving me momentarily breathless. I opened my mouth, but the words struggled to catch up to the anger flooding me.

"Excu—se me?" I stammered, the shock making it hard to process her audacity.

Her laughter rang out—bitter, harsh, and filled with scorn. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "You got involved with him to land the Grant name, didn’t you? Thought you’d get a piece of the fortune."

I could feel my blood boiling, my temper rising with every word she spoke. "I don’t want your damn money."

She scoffed again, her eyes narrowing as she sized me up. "That’s what they all say. But let me make it clear—someone like you isn’t fit to carry my grandchild."

Her words dug into me like a knife, and I clenched my hands into fists. My lips parted open to give her a fitting reply but before I could speak, she threw out an amount that left me momentarily speechless.

"One million," she said coldly, her tone flat, almost bored. "Take it and get rid of the child. I won’t offer you anything more because that’s all you’re worth."

My brows furrowed—not in surprise, but in disbelief.

One million?!—It was barely enough to buy one of those ridiculously rare, hand-crafted designer pens—an object I’d probably lose in two days.

The fact that she thought such a small sum could buy my child’s life was so pathetic that it nearly made my blood boil over. It was so insulting, I thought I might explode.

But then, the grim realization dawned on me. I couldn’t entirely blame her for thinking so little of me.

After all, I was the one who had hidden my true identity—a wealthy heiress with a fortune far greater than theirs from Nathaniel, all in the hope of finding true love that was not at all influenced by my money or social standing.

"Thanks for the ridiculous offer," I said, my voice steady, despite the fury simmering inside me.

"...But no amount of money will make me get rid of my baby. I came here because Nathaniel asked me to, and I also came because I wanted to give him a chance to be a father…”

“...But if this is how he feels—if he’s too much of a fucking coward to face me himself—tell him that not only would I be keeping the baby, but he would be no father to it."

Her smile faltered, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes, but it vanished too quickly for me to understand what it meant.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” she said, her voice calm, too calm. "I came here with two options for you. And it seems you’ve chosen the second."

A chill crept over me. The air felt thinner, colder. I knew something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until she spoke again.

“And by the way, the second option is death,” she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

I froze, disbelief spreading across my body like ice. For a split second, I thought I had misheard her. But the cold gleam in her eyes confirmed that I hadn’t.

Before I could react, her hand shot out, shoving me with brutal force. I stumbled back, my feet slipping on the gravel, my arms flailing to catch my balance, but it was no use.

Then the ground beneath me disappeared.

The air rushed past me as I fell, and for a moment, everything went still. The world seemed to hold its breath, suspended in time.

And then, darkness swallowed me whole.

---

Present

---

"Solane?"

I blinked, the memory slowly clearing away like smoke. Nathaniel’s voice was soft—but I knew better. That gentleness wasn’t concern. It was fear. Fear that I wouldn’t go through with the wedding.

His family’s empire was crumbling, and wedding me—Solane Blackwood, publicly Zane Lancaster’s niece but unknown to them, his daughter, Irene Lancaster—was their last desperate attempt to save it since no other wealthy family would allow their daughter to marry a man confined to a wheelchair.

"The priest is waiting for your answer," he reminded me, his tone even, unreadable.

I straightened, lifting my chin. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, I met his gaze.

"Yes… Yes, I do."