La Suerte Se Convierte en Cenizas, y Las Llamas Devoran el Corazón.

I always believed a wedding was supposed to be a happy beginning.

White roses. Smiling faces. A groom who looked at you like you were his entire world.

But as I stood in front of the mirror in a borrowed bridal suite, dressed in an expensive gown that didn’t belong to me, I realized I had been foolish.

This wasn’t a beginning.

It was an ending.

The dress hugged my body perfectly, tailored to every curve, yet it felt like a prison. My fingers shook as I adjusted the veil, staring at my reflection. The woman in the mirror looked calm, composed—almost beautiful. But behind her eyes was fear so deep it made my chest ache.

I was getting married today.

Not to the man I loved.

But to the man who owned my future.

“Amara,” my mother’s soft voice broke the silence. “They’re ready for you.”

I didn’t turn. “Mama… if I walk out of this room right now, what happens?”

Her breath hitched. I could hear it even without looking at her.

“Your father goes to prison,” she whispered. “And we lose everything.”

My eyes burned, but I forced the tears back. Crying wouldn’t change anything. It never did.

The debt had crushed us overnight. One bad business deal. One signature my father trusted too much. And suddenly, the men who once called us friends were knocking on our doors, demanding money we didn’t have.

That was when Lucas Blackwood appeared.

Like a savior.

Like a devil.

“He said he would clear the debt completely,” my mother continued, her voice trembling. “But only if you marry him.”

Lucas Blackwood.

The name echoed in my mind like a curse.

Everyone knew him. The youngest billionaire CEO in the country. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable. A man who destroyed lives with contracts and smiles that never reached his eyes.

A man who didn’t believe in love.

And today, he would become my husband.

I finally turned to face my mother. She looked smaller than I remembered, older, worn down by guilt and worry.

“I’ll do it,” I said quietly. “I just need you to promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t apologize for this again.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded.

The church doors opened moments later.

The music began.

And my fate was sealed.

Each step down the aisle felt heavier than the last. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor, echoing louder than my thoughts. I could feel the stares—women admiring my dress, men calculating the cost of it, everyone wondering how a nobody like me had caught the attention of Lucas Blackwood.

If only they knew.

I reached the altar and slowly lifted my gaze.

He was taller than I expected.

Lucas Blackwood stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, his broad shoulders straight, his posture commanding. His face was sharp, almost cruelly handsome, but his dark eyes held no warmth.

He looked at me the way businessmen looked at contracts.

Necessary. Temporary. Replaceable.

The pastor began to speak, but his words faded into the background.

“Do you, Lucas Blackwood, take Amara Kingsley to be your lawful wife—”

“I do,” Lucas said before the sentence was finished.

No hesitation. No emotion.

My fingers tightened around my bouquet.

“And do you, Amara Kingsley—”

Silence filled the church.

My heart pounded violently in my chest. For a split second, I wondered what would happen if I said no. If I turned around and ran. If I chose myself for once.

Lucas leaned closer, his lips near my ear.

“Say yes,” he murmured calmly. “Or your family loses everything.”

That single sentence shattered every illusion of choice I had left.

“I do,” I whispered.

The ring slid onto my finger, heavy and cold. Diamonds sparkled under the lights, mocking me with their beauty. It was probably worth more than my entire life.

The kiss never came.

Instead, Lucas turned sharply, already done with the ceremony. His hand closed around my wrist as we walked down the aisle together.

His grip was firm. Possessive.

“Listen carefully,” he said under his breath. “This marriage is a contract. You will attend events when required. You will smile when necessary. You will not interfere in my business.”

I kept my head high. “And if I don’t?”

He stopped walking and looked down at me, his gaze dark and warning. “Then I remind you why you’re here.”

We continued walking.

Once we were alone, he finally released my wrist.

“When this contract ends,” he continued coldly, “you will leave with exactly what you came with. Nothing more.”

I met his eyes, refusing to show him the fear clawing at my chest.

“That’s fine,” I said softly. “I never planned to take anything from you.”

Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps.

“I don’t love you,” I added. “And I never will.”

A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips.

“Good,” he replied. “Because love has no place in this marriage.”

As he turned away, I looked down at the ring on my finger.

This wasn’t a fairy tale.

This was a war.

And I had just signed up for it.