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(Elena POV)
The ballroom glittered with wealth. Diamonds winked under golden chandeliers, champagne fizz bubbled in crystal flutes, and violins sang notes of luxury. I pulled the mask lower over my face with trembling hands and I am trying to breathe, here goes nothing.
Every instinct were screaming for me to run for the heels. I wasn’t a porcelain heiress with a gilded last name. I am an imposter—hiding in satin and silk. But tonight, the “charity bride auction” is my shield. As long as I blend with the other women lined up backstage, they won’t find me.
My heart hammered. Especially him.
Damian Blackwood. The man I am supposed to marry. A billionaire whose name made tycoons tremble. Cold, ruthless, untouchable. I had seen the way he looked at me during our brief engagement meetings—like I was just another piece of asset, another acquisition. And I refuse to be bought.
The curtains lifted. Applause rolled through the crowd.
One by one, we glided onto the stage, gowns shimmering under the lights. Each of us masked, each mysterious, each promised to the highest bidder for the sake of “charity.” My turn came all too soon. My heels clicking like gunshots against the polished floor.
The audience murmured. I could feel their gazes sweeping over my curves, my palm were sweating but I was trying so hard to maintain my posture. Someone called out a bid. Then another. The numbers climbed higher than I ever seen in my life.
And then—
“Ten million.”
His voice cut through the room like a blade. Deep. Unmistakable.
My blood turned to ice. Slowly, against every desperate instinct, I lifted my eyes to the crowd.
Damian Blackwood sat in the front row. No mask. No hesitation. His obsidian gaze pinned me where stood. I couldn’t move, my mind was about to explode. Oh no, not him!!
“Sold,” the auctioneer declared almost instantly, gavel striking with finality. No one dared challenge the offer.
The crowd erupted in applause, but all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart.
Damian rose, unhurried, a dark smile curling at his lips as he strode toward the stage. He looked like a predator claiming his prize.
“Running,” he murmured as he his hands sneaked around my waist, voice low enough for only for me to hear “only made you more expensive, sweetheart.”
The crowd cheered. My mask hid my face, but not the terror in my eyes.
Now, let us back track to why I am in this mess. My family is not on the wealthy side I mean, we manage but with 5 kids, it gets kind of hard to go by and our family is in a lot of debt. Hi my name is Elena and I am the first child. About a month ago, my dad called me into his office and he told me that I am going to be getting married in three month time to the most vicious and cruel man that ever walked the face of the earth. I couldn’t move, I was just staring at my dad like he had grown two heads. What just happened? I thought. No... No... No... No... I can’t be married to him, anyone else, but him. I tried to reason with my father but his decision was final, I am getting married to Damian Blackwood, why me?
So I started plotting, I had to run away, I just had to. I fixed a date when I was going to do it and when the day finally came, I ran. I stayed a motel at the outskirt of town and I laid low for a while until I stumbled upon an auction on my phone; an auction for women to be bought for marriage, I saw this as a great opportunity and immediately I applied. Yes, now you can’t have me anymore, or so I thought.
(Back to the present)
The applause still echoed in my ears as Damian’s hand closed around my wrist, firm and inescapable. He didn’t drag me, not quite—but the quiet authority in his touch made it clear: resistance was useless.
The crowd parted as he led me away from the glittering stage, down a side corridor lined with velvet curtains. Every step felt like a death march.
When the door clicked shut behind them, the noise of the gala died, leaving only the pounding of my heart.
I yanked her hand free, gathering the little that I had. “You can’t just buy me like—like I’m some prize!”
Damian leaned back against the wall, loosening his tie with deliberate ease. His obsidian eyes held mine, sharp enough to pin me in place. “Prize? Don’t flatter yourself. You ran, Elena. And I told you—running only makes the chase more interesting.”
My breath seized. He knew.
“You planned this,” I whispered, fury trembling in my voice. “The auction—”
“Was the perfect trap,” Damian cut in smoothly. “And you stepped into it without hesitation.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in it—only possession. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”
My nails dug into my palms. “I would rather disappear than marry you.”
His expression hardened, the smile vanishing like a mask. “Disappear? Into what? Poverty? Scandal? Do you know how quickly this world would eat you alive without protection?” He pushed off the wall and closed the distance between us in three strides. I felt caged, heat rolling off his tailored suit.
“I don’t want your protection,” I spat.
“You don’t have a choice.” His hand braced against the wall beside my head, caging me in. “Your family owes me everything. Their debts, their mistakes—you are the payment, Elena.”
My stomach dropped. “You’re lying.” No it can’t be true, please tell me it’s a lie.
Damian’s gaze didn’t waver. “No. I’m offering you a bargain. You marry me for one year. One. At the end, you’ll walk away untouched, free, and richer than you ever imagined. But if you run again—” His voice dropped, silken and lethal. “Your family loses everything. And I don’t play games when money is involved.”
My throat tightened. I want to scream, to claw, to bolt—but his words shackles me tighter than his grip ever could.
“Why me?” I whispered hoarsely. “You could have anyone.”
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Something dark, unreadable. “Because you’re mine.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. But then I realized the most terrifying part wasn’t that he had trapped me.
It was that a part of me, traitorous and weak, wanted to know what it meant to belong to Damian Blackwood.
ELENA POVIts been 6 months now.The air felt different.Lighter.For the first time in a long time… I could breathe without fear sitting in my chest.Recovery hadn’t been easy.The scars remained—some visible, some not.But I was stronger now.Not because I survived.But because I chose to keep living.I stood on the balcony of the estate, the evening sun painting the sky in soft gold and deep orange. The wind brushed gently against my skin, and for once… it didn’t feel like a warning.It felt like peace.“You’re thinking too much again.”I smiled before turning.Damian.He looked… different too.Still powerful. Still dangerous.But softer around the edges when he looked at me.“Am I?” I teased lightly.“Always,” he replied, stepping closer.There was no tension between us now.No walls.Just something steady.Real.“I was just thinking,” I said quietly, “how everything changed.”His
DAMIAN POVThe hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.I hated it.I hated everything about it.The bright lights.The rushed footsteps.The way time slowed and sped up at the same time.“Elena!” I shouted as they rushed her through the emergency doors.Doctors. Nurses. Hands everywhere.“Gunshot wound—significant blood loss—get the OR ready!”“She’s crashing!”The words hit like bullets.“No—” I grabbed the stretcher before they could pull her away. “You save her.”A doctor stepped in front of me. “Sir, you need to let us—”“Save her,” I repeated, my voice low, shaking with something dangerous. “Or this entire hospital answers to me.”Silence.Tension.Then—“We’re doing everything we can,” he said quickly.They pulled her away.And just like that—She was gone again.The doors to the operating room slammed shut.And I was left outside.Powerless.I ran a hand through my hair, pac
DAMIAN POVShe saved me.The realization hit harder than the bullet wound.Elena.Fighting.Thinking.Moving like she belonged in chaos.Like she had always been this strong.I kept up with her pace, ignoring the pain tearing through my shoulder.“Left!” she said.I didn’t question it.Didn’t hesitate.I followed.Because somehow—She knew.We turned sharply, slipping through a narrow exit just as more gunfire erupted behind us.Cold night air hit my face.Freedom.Almost.Cars screeched in the distance—my men.Right on time.Elena slowed slightly, breath heavy, but her grip on me didn’t loosen.“You came,” she said quietly.I looked at her.Really looked.She wasn’t the same woman who had been chained.She wasn’t afraid.She was fire.“I told you,” I said, voice rough, “I’d find you.”Her eyes softened—but only for a second.Then—“We’re not safe yet.”A small smile tugged at my lips despite everything.“Yeah,” I said.“I noticed.”Behind us—The warehouse doors burst open.Anton ste
DAMIAN POVAnton didn’t move.That was the problem.Men like him—They don’t panic.They don’t rush.They wait.And somehow…They’re always ahead.“You walked right into it,” Anton said, his voice smooth, almost bored.I didn’t lower my gun.“Where is she?”A faint smile curved his lips.“Still asking the wrong question.”My finger tightened slightly on the trigger.“Last chance.”He tilted his head.“You think this ends with bullets?”A click echoed behind me.I stilled.Another one to my left.And then—Several more.My jaw tightened.Surrounded.Of course.Anton stepped forward, hands casually in his pockets.“No matter how powerful you are, Damian… there’s always a blind spot.”My mind was already calculating.Distance.Angles.Targets.I could take three—maybe four—before they got a clean shot.But not all.Not like this.Not if—“Elena,” I muttered under my breath.Anton heard it.And smiled wider.“Yes,” he said softly. “Let’s talk about her.”Rage flared sharp and fast in my c
The warehouse sat too quiet.That was the first thing I noticed.No obvious guards.No visible movement.No noise except the distant crash of waves against metal.Anton was inviting me in.I know you Anton I stepped out of the car slowly, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve like this was just another business meeting—not a rescue mission that could end in blood.“Perimeter?” I asked.“Scattered,” Noah replied through the comms. “Heat signatures inside, but they’re moving irregularly.”Decoys.Or rotating guards.Either way—calculated.I slid my gun into place, movements precise, controlled.“Team A, west entrance. Team B, hold position until I give the signal,” I ordered.“You’re going in first?” Noah asked.“Yes.”A pause.Then, “Understood.”I moved.Every step deliberate. Silent. Focused.The side entrance door was slightly ajar.Of course it was.Anton doesn’t lock doors.He opens them.I pushed it slowly and slipped inside.Dark.Cold.The scent of rust and oil clung to the air.My
ELENA POV The chain finally gave. A soft click. Barely audible. But I felt it. My breath caught as I froze, listening. Nothing. No footsteps rushing in. No alarms. Good. I'm finally free... Slowly—carefully—I twisted my wrist again. The loosened joint shifted just enough. Pain shot through my skin as I forced my hand through the cuff, scraping against metal, biting down hard to keep from making a sound. One more push— And my hand slipped free. I almost laughed. Not out loud. Never out loud. But inside? Fire. I did it. Holy shit.. I actually did it, I said o my self as I sat there to process everything. I didn’t move immediately. That would be stupid. Instead, I stayed exactly where I was, head lowered, breathing shallow—like I was still restrained. Listening. Counting. Steps outside. Three… two… one… Turn. Good. Routine confirmed. I slid my freed hand slowly forward, reaching down to my ankle restraints. These were easier. Less secure. Thirty seconds lat
(Elena POV)I didn’t stop running until my lungs burned.The hallway blurred past me, my heartbeat thundering so loudly it drowned out everything else. I slammed my bedroom door shut and locked it, pressing my back against it as if Damian himself might burst through.My head is spinning.I couldn’t
(Elena POV)By late afternoon, the mansion filled with tension so thick it felt like smoke.Men walked fast. Phones rang endlessly. Damian barked orders in low, deadly tones.Whatever Anton had done… it wasn’t small. Who really is this guy and why is everyone running like headless chicken because o
(Elena POV)It felt like a prison sentence.I woke up in Damian’s mansion — silk sheets, cold marble floors, and silence thick enough to suffocate me. For a split second I had forgotten where I was but then I remembered, I am still in this prison marriage. How did my life get to this? I thought as
(Damian POV)I knew something was wrong the moment the house went quiet.Too quiet.Where is she?“Elena?” I called, striding down the hallway.No answer.My gut twisted violently.Please tell me it is not what







