PROLOGUE & CHAPTER ONE

                                                                   PROLOGUE

The night the world ended for Lucas Salvador was the night the rain refused to stop.

Thunder cracked over San Francisco’s glittering skyline, but he barely heard it. Seventeen and stubborn, Lucas stood soaked to the bone outside the charred remains of the construction site his father had managed for over a decade.

Police lights splashed red and blue against the slick pavement. Officers huddled under umbrellas, their murmured voices lost in the storm.

He could still smell the fire.

Still taste the smoke clogging his lungs.

Still hear his mother’s screams as she fought to reach his father before the scaffolding collapsed.

Gone. Both of them. Without a chance to say goodbye.

“Mr. Salvador,” a detective said, approaching cautiously, as though Lucas might shatter under the weight of one more truth.

“We haven’t found any bodies.”

The words lodged in his chest, jagged and raw.

“What are you saying?” Lucas rasped.

The detective cleared his throat. “There’s evidence the fire wasn’t accidental. Sabotage, maybe. We’re investigating.”

Sabotage.

He heard the word like a death knell.

Lucas clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms. Somewhere deep inside, something cold and merciless unfurled.

If it was sabotage, someone had murdered his parents.

And someone was going to pay.

He stared up at the smoldering skeleton of the building, a monument to everything he had lost.

That night, Lucas Salvador buried his heart alongside the ashes of his family.

And he made a vow.

Find the man responsible. Destroy him. No matter the cost.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

                                                        CHAPTER ONE

                                        The Offer That Changed Everything

The clock on the mantel chimed ten.

Natasha Raymond sat ramrod straight in the leather chair, her hands knotted in her lap. Across the gleaming mahogany desk, her father paced like a man being dragged toward execution.

“Dad, whatever it is, just say it,” Natasha said, forcing calm into her voice. She had grown used to her father’s schemes over the years, each more desperate than the last. But tonight, the air itself felt different, heavier more like final.

Clifford Raymond stopped pacing and stared at her.

“I’m dying, Natasha.”

The words hit like a slap. Natasha flinched, her stomach lurching.

“What? No. You said you were managing it. Your treatment and check ups Dad”

He shook his head. “The treatments aren’t working. The cancer’s spreading faster than they predicted.” His voice cracked. “I don’t have much time.”

For a moment, Natasha couldn’t breathe. The walls of the study seemed to close in around her.

“But there’s hope,” he said quickly, desperation sharpening his tone. “If the company stabilizes, if I can secure the board’s confidence, the doctors say there are experimental therapies we could try overseas. But without money, without backing, I won’t live long enough to even attempt it.”

She gripped the arms of her chair. “Tell me what you need. I’ll sell my shares. I’ll mortgage everything dad, anything”

“No.” Clifford squeezed his eyes shut. “You don’t understand. It’s already done. There’s a way. A deal.”

A knock sounded at the door.

Natasha turned just as it opened and the room tilted on its axis.

Lucas Salvador stepped inside, his presence a dark gravity that pulled every molecule of air from the room. Tall, devastatingly handsome, with tailored arrogance stitched into every line of his suit.

And his eyes, those molten silver eyes, landed on her like a brand.

“What is this dad?, what is he doing here?”

“You’re selling me to him?, Is that what this is?” Natasha asked slowly, voice shaking.

Her father said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Lucas walked forward with deliberate, almost predatory grace. He set a thin stack of papers on the desk between them.

“Miss Raymond,” he said, voice like velvet over steel. “Consider this a business arrangement. One year of marriage. Appearances only. In exchange, your father’s company remains intact. His treatments continue. His legacy survives.”

Natasha stared at the contract like it might burn her fingers.

“This is insane,” she whispered. “Marriage isn’t a business deal.”

Lucas’s mouth curved not a smile, but something colder. More dangerous.

“In my world,” he said, “everything is a business deal.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Deal with the Devil

The contract sat between them, thin sheets of paper that weighed more than a tombstone.

Natasha’s heart pounded so violently she thought Lucas might hear it. She forced her eyes down to the first page, where her name, Natasha Marie Raymond was printed in bold black letters.

The terms were simple:

One year marriage agreement.

Appearances at designated public events.

No obligations beyond maintaining the image of a united couple.

Absolute discretion.

The final clause made her stomach twist:

Failure to comply will result in the full withdrawal of the Salvador Foundation's support and immediate liquidation of Raymond Enterprises' remaining assets.

Her throat closed up.

“You’re not just asking for a business transaction Mr Salvador,” she whispered, her voice brittle. “You’re asking for my freedom!.”

Lucas didn’t flinch. He watched her with that unreadable, cool expression that she hated so much because a part of her wanted to peel it away, to see the man beneath it.

"This isn't slavery, Natasha," he said calmly. "You’ll have your independence within reason. Consider it, hmmm... strategic partnership."

Partnership?.

She almost laughed. The word sounded so clean, so logical, when her world was crumbling around her feet right before her eyes.

Her father coughed weakly behind her, the sound rasping through the heavy silence.

Natasha turned. His face was pale, his eyes sunken deep into his skull. He looked like a man running out of time.

And still, he watched her with the desperate hope of a drowning man throwing all his faith onto a fragile lifeboat.

If she refused this, he would die.

Without the company’s revival, there would be no funding for treatments. No last chance overseas. No future.

The room blurred at the edges.

Lucas stepped closer, setting a silver pen down beside the contract. His voice dropped to a low murmur, just for her.

“No one will force you. The choice is yours.”

It was a lie. She knew it. He knew it.

There was no choice.

Slowly, mechanically, Natasha reached for the pen.

Her fingers closed around it, trembling.

She heard her father’s ragged breath behind her. Felt Lucas’s gaze burn into her skin. The storm raging inside her chest battered against her ribs.

With one flick of her wrist, she signed.

The moment the ink dried, Natasha Raymond ceased to exist.

In her place stood Natasha Salvador, wife to a man who had turned her life into a chessboard, and she a pawn across its polished squares.

Lucas plucked the contract off the table, his mouth curving into something that almost resembled a smile.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Salvador," he said smoothly.

A chill ran down her spine.

In that moment, Natasha realized something bone deep and terrifying, She hadn’t just married a man.

She had married a monster.

And monsters, she knew, always collected their due.