Chapter 3

The moment Damien opened the door, the quiet of the office was replaced by the chaos of the ballroom corridor.

Reporters crowded the entrance, cameras flashing, voices overlapping in a frenzy.

“Clara! How do you feel about your fiancé leaving with your sister?”

“Is the wedding canceled?”

“Was the affair going on for long?”

I froze, every instinct screaming to run.

Damien didn’t hesitate. His hand slid to the small of my back — a light touch, but firm enough to guide me forward. “Breathe,” he murmured, so low only I could hear.

My parents were standing near the doors. My father’s face was unreadable, my mother’s smile brittle as she whispered, “We can still salvage this if we—”

“No,” Damien interrupted smoothly. “We’re not salvaging. We’re upgrading.”

Before my mother could respond, he strode into the sea of cameras, pulling me along. The flashes were blinding, the noise deafening. I could feel every gaze pinning me in place, waiting for me to crack.

Damien raised one hand for silence, and somehow, the crowd obeyed. His voice was calm but carried like a command.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll keep this brief. My brother, Ethan Vale, will not be marrying Clara today.”

The room exploded with questions.

“But—”

“What happened—?”

“Is it true—?”

Damien’s gaze swept over the reporters, sharp and unyielding. “Because,” he continued, his tone like steel, “I am.”

For a beat, the entire hall went silent. Then the uproar began — frantic scribbling, camera shutters, voices shouting for clarification.

He didn’t flinch. “Clara and I will be married within the week. That is all you need to know.”

I stared up at him, my shock probably written all over my face. He had just told the entire city… and the world… that we were engaged.

Someone pushed through the crowd.

Ethan.

His hair was mussed, his tuxedo rumpled like he’d been in too much of a hurry to care. Sophie was on his arm, her lipstick smudged in a way that told the story without words.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ethan snarled at Damien, his voice low but venomous.

Damien’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Cleaning up your mess.”

“This isn’t a game, Damien. You can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” Damien stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lethal softness. “You humiliated her. Our family. You think I’d let you walk away without consequences?”

Sophie’s nails dug into Ethan’s arm. “Clara, you can’t actually be going along with this,” she said, her tone dripping with false concern. “We didn’t mean for things to happen this way.”

I laughed — cold, sharp, and more bitter than I thought I was capable of. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. Tripping into each other’s mouths must’ve been an accident.”

Her cheeks flushed. “You’ve always been dramatic.”

“And you’ve always been jealous,” I shot back.

Ethan stepped forward, his jaw tight. “You’re making a mistake. Damien doesn’t care about you. He’s using you.”

Damien’s arm slid more firmly around my waist, his voice dropping low. “Better than you, who threw her away for a cheap thrill.”

Gasps rippled through the nearby guests.

Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “This won’t last.”

Damien’s smirk was all teeth. “We’ll see.”

Security began ushering the press back, but not before Damien leaned down, his lips close to my ear. “Now it begins.”

And I knew he wasn’t talking about the marriage.

This was war.