LOGINOn the day of her wedding, Elena Hart was humiliated before the world, rejected at the altar by the man she was to get married to. One moment she was a bride, the next, a scandal. But fate had a crueler twist waiting. To save her family from ruin, Elena is forced into an arranged marriage with Alexander King, the ruthless billionaire known for his icy heart and dangerous empire. He doesn’t believe in love. She doesn’t believe in second chances. Their marriage is nothing but a contract, signed in bitterness and silence. Yet every clash between them sparks fire. Every stolen glance chips away at his armor. And every secret she uncovers pulls her deeper into a world of power, betrayal, and a man who might destroy her, or become the one person who saves her.
View MoreThe church smelled of roses, candle wax, and anticipation. Every seat was filled, every face turned toward me, waiting for the perfect moment when I would finally say "I do."
This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
My hands clutched the bouquet so tightly that my knuckles turned white beneath my gloves. The veil was too heavy, clinging to my skin, suffocating me. Still, I smiled through the nervous tremor in my chest. He stood at the altar, tall and handsome in his tuxedo, the man I believed I was destined for.
My forever.
Or so I thought.
“I can’t do this.”
At first, I wasn’t sure if I had misheard him. The church was silent, so silent that the echo of his voice sounded unreal. The officiant froze mid-sentence. A few guests shifted in their seats. My lips parted, but no sound came out.
Then he said it again, clearer and louder.
“I can’t marry her.”
Gasps rippled like a storm through the crowd. My heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach.
“What?” I whispered, but my voice was too faint. I tried again, louder, my throat raw. “What did you just say?”
He turned, not to me, but to the congregation. His eyes were hard, his mouth twisted in disdain. “I said, I won’t marry her.”
A murmur spread across the church, whispers sharp as knives.
Did he just say—?
Poor girl, how embarrassing…
I knew she wasn’t good enough for him.
The bouquet slipped from my trembling hands, the roses scattering in a tragic bloom across the white marble floor. The petals were crushed instantly by the restless shuffle of feet.
“Why?” The word tore from me, broken, trembling.
For a moment, he hesitated. A cruel kind of hesitation, as if deciding whether I deserved the truth. Then his gaze met mine, cold and merciless.
“Because you’re not enough. You never were. This was a mistake.”
The world tilted. My ears rang with the weight of his words. I could feel hundreds of eyes piercing me, stripping away every shred of dignity I had left.
My mother gasped, clutching at her pearls as though they could save her from the shame. My father’s fists clenched on the pew, fury and humiliation burning in his glare. A woman in the front row covered her mouth, delighted in my disgrace.
My knees wobbled, but I forced myself to stand, to breathe, though every part of me wanted to disappear.
In that moment, I was no longer a bride. I was entertainment. A living tragedy for them to feed on.
He didn’t even flinch as he turned and walked down the aisle, away from me, away from everything we had planned. His footsteps echoed, cold and final, until the heavy church doors slammed shut behind him.
The silence he left behind was worse than the whispers.
I stood there, frozen, my veil damp with tears I hadn’t realized had fallen. My heart felt like shattered glass inside my chest. All the dreams, the promises, the love I thought we had, reduced to dust in a single breath.
Someone laughed. I’ll never forget that sound. A cruel, muffled laugh from the back, quickly silenced, but it seared me more than anything else.
Heat climbed my throat, shame burning my skin. I wanted to scream, to beg for the floor to open and swallow me whole. But all I could do was stand there, broken, humiliated, as the whispers grew louder.
“Did you hear what he said?”
“Not enough…”
“How pitiful.”
The officiant shifted uncomfortably, looking at me with pity in his eyes. My bridesmaids wouldn’t even meet my gaze. The groomsmen were whispering to each other, already planning how to escape the scene.
This was supposed to be the day my life began. Instead, it was the day it ended.
And yet—somewhere deep in my chest, beneath the heartbreak and humiliation—something flickered. Not hope, not yet. Something darker. Something that whispered this rejection would not destroy me.
It would change me.
But I didn’t know then that this humiliation was only the beginning. That the man who would soon step into my life would not offer me comfort or love, but chains disguised as vows.
And compared to him, the man who rejected me today would seem almost kind.
I found him in his study.The heavy oak doors loomed before me, shut tight like a warning. A part of me wanted to turn back, to retreat into the cold safety of silence. But another part — the fiercer part that Isabella had awakened with her venom — refused to let her win.I pushed the doors open without knocking.Alexander stood by the window, framed in pale moonlight, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of whiskey. His reflection glimmered in the glass pane — tall, broad, immovable. He didn’t turn when I entered.“You’re brave,” he said, his voice low, dangerous, “or foolish, to come here without being summoned.”My breath caught, but I steadied it. “You left me no choice.”He finally turned, his eyes locking onto mine. They were unreadable, cold and sharp like shards of ice. “Everyone has a choice, Elena. You chose poorly tonight.”“I didn’t betray you.” My voice trembled, but I held his gaze. “I never would.”He sipped his drink, slow and deliberate, as though weighi
The dining room had never felt so vast, so suffocating, so cold. Chandeliers glittered overhead, casting light across polished silver and crystal glasses, but I couldn’t focus on any of it. The air was thick, humming with tension that seemed to coil around my throat.I stood in the doorway, my pulse pounding, while Isabella sipped her wine like a queen savoring her triumph.I forced my voice to stay steady. “What conversation?”Her smile deepened, sharp as glass. “The one between you and Mr. Harrington. He works in accounting, doesn’t he? Such a chatty man. He said you seemed… unusually curious about Alexander’s current negotiations.”My stomach dropped. Harrington. Yes, I’d spoken to him briefly in the hall, a polite exchange about how overwhelming the company’s affairs must be. But it had been harmless. Nothing more than small talk.Isabella leaned forward, her eyes glinting. “Of course, curiosity is one thing. But asking about numbers, about projected deals? That sounds less like c
I had always thought silence was my safest refuge. Growing up in a house where raised voices were rare, I learned quickly that stillness could shield you from storms. But silence with Alexander King was different. It wasn’t safety. It was suffocating. It pressed against me, filled every space between us until I wanted to claw at the air just to breathe again.Our marriage had been nothing more than a contract on paper, a shield for him and a cage for me. Yet the longer I lived under his roof, the more the lines blurred between obligation and something far more dangerous.That night, I found myself in the drawing room, seated by the grand piano though I couldn’t play a single note. The firelight flickered across the polished black surface, and I stared at my reflection—my face pale, my eyes haunted.The door creaked open, and I didn’t need to look up to know it was him. His presence filled a room long before his footsteps did.“Elena,” he said, my name low and rough in his voice.I lif
I had never realized how loud silence could be until I lived in Alexander’s mansion.The walls were too pristine, the chandeliers too polished, the marble too cold. Even the staff moved like shadows—polite, efficient, and distant—leaving only the echo of my thoughts to fill the emptiness.And lately, those thoughts had been consumed by him.Alexander.The man who was my husband, but not really my husband. My protector, but also my jailer. The man whose presence ignited a fire in me, and whose absence left me drowning in frost.We had been circling each other for weeks—teetering on the edge of something that wasn’t quite love, wasn’t quite war. A slow burn, dangerous and intoxicating. One moment he’d look at me with eyes that softened the iron mask he always wore, and the next he’d pull away as though I carried poison.And Isabella had noticed.I should have expected it. Alexander’s younger sister had always watched me like a hawk, her disdain sharpened into something more lethal than
The mansion had grown quieter since Alexander’s victory with Hartford. Quieter, but not calmer. Every corner hummed with a kind of unspoken tension, like the silence after a storm when you know another is brewing just beyond the horizon.And then there was him.Alexander moved through his empire with the same icy precision as always, but lately, I found myself noticing the things I wasn’t supposed to. The way his hand brushed the small of my back when we entered a room together. The way his gaze lingered when he thought I wasn’t watching. The way he listened—actually listened—when I spoke, even if his replies were curt.It was a dangerous sort of noticing. The kind that made my pulse race for reasons I couldn’t admit, not even to myself.That evening, I found myself in the library, pretending to read while stealing glances at him across the room. He sat by the fire, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened just enough to reveal the strong line of his throat. A glass of wh
The news broke before sunrise. My phone buzzed with alerts, and when I rolled over to check, the headline glared at me in bold letters:“King Industries Secures Hartford Mega-Deal, Outsmarts Callahan Global.”I sat up, heart pounding. The Hartford deal had been the holy grail of corporate warfare for months. Billions on the table, international influence, entire economies shifting depending on whose hand closed it. Damien had been the frontrunner—or so everyone thought. Until now.I glanced toward the balcony, where Alexander stood with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear, his voice sharp and measured. He was still in his shirt from last night, sleeves rolled up, dark hair slightly mussed, but there was no weariness in him. Only steel.“Yes,” he said curtly. “They caved. Send the terms to legal. I want the contracts signed before noon.”He hung up without a word of pleasantry. When he finally turned, his eyes found mine, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. There was something






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