The Devil's Wedding Ring

I didn't know anything until I ended up being married to the man that sealed my fate. A man that killed people so precious to me and brought my own downfall. Cillian Vane. And then turned around to ask me to marry him. 

Few months ago, 

The scent of jasmine and expensive cigar smoke always reminded me of home. We were sitting on the veranda of my father’s Bel-Air estate, the kind of afternoon that felt like it had been dipped in gold. My mother, Julianna, was delicately adjusting the lace on her cuff, her eyes reflecting the pride that had become my daily bread. My father, Arthur, sat across from us, the morning’s trades open on his lap.

"Diamond Val," he teased, tapping a headline that featured my face draped in Bulgari. "The most wanted woman in Hollywood. I told you, Valerie. St. Claire women don't just walk; they reign."

And of course, we actually do reign. I smiled, sipping my tea while feeling the weight of Hollywood on my shoulders. I was the most wanted actress in the industry; I filled billboards, anchored global commercial ads, and my face was a permanent fixture from Asia to Europe. People paid just to see my smile, to witness me climb a stage, or to see my name on a movie poster. I had grown up in the shadow of my father's skyscrapers and his massive private hospital, the only child of the most powerful man in the city. Life was a series of closed sets, private jets, and the absolute certainty that the floor would never drop out from under me.

"Just don't let the fame outshine your heart, darling," my mother added softly. "You have your premiere tonight, and Jaxson leaves for Paris. Make sure you hold onto what's real."

"What's real? Come on, mom," I replied, setting my cup down with a delicate clink. "Don't start with your motivational speaking. I just arrived to get dinner with the two of you."

"You seem to be so carried away with your career that you're neglecting other phases of your life," she reminded me, her gaze lingering on my phone. I rolled my eyes, leaning back into the plush cushions.

"Dad, can you hear what your wife is saying? That I'm neglecting my life? If it's about Jaxson, he's busy. I know we barely see each other these days, but it doesn't stop how much I love him."

"He complained that he hasn't seen you quite enough lately," Mom pushed.

"Mom, he’s the one trying so hard not to take my calls, no matter how much I try." I caught the cold, disappointed look they both leveled at me and sighed. "Okay, fine. I will see him today. I was going over to his place in the first instance anyway."

An hour later, I was at Jaxson’s penthouse. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city we collectively owned, a sprawling map of lights and ambition. Jaxson was packing, tossing his team jerseys into a leather duffel. Jaxson Montgomery: the NBA’s golden boy, the man whose jersey was tucked into the waistbands of half the teenagers in America.

We were the "Best Online Couple." Our relationship was a public testimony of love at first sight. We had met two years ago while I was attending a game, a chance encounter near the restrooms that turned into something so ethereal it hit the news cycles before we’d even had a second date. Everyone wanted us to get married. I wanted that too, even if Jaxson insisted on waiting until he was thirty. He was the only heir to the Montgomery fortune, destined to inherit the empire after his retirement, though his relationship with his father was a fractured thing at best.

I stood in the hallway, my hands crossed over my chest, mirroring his dull expression. "You told me you were going to meet your father. What happened?"

He sighed, dropping a pair of sneakers into the bag. "I don't know. He suddenly told me that I have a brother."

"What?" I was stunned. "A brother? I thought you were an only child."

"That's what I thought. I mean, I really did think I was... you know..." He trailed off, looking lost in his own penthouse.

"I want to understand something," I said, trying to process the bombshell. "Is he a child? Like... a half-sibling from a recent affair?"

"A full-grown man," he replied, and every word I wanted to say died in my throat. The Montgomery legacy wasn't as solitary as we thought.

"We're going to a party tonight," he said suddenly, his voice tight. "I need to go. I need to get my head off the things my father said."

I didn't probe. Jaxson was never one to share the messy parts of himself, especially when he was in a pickle. But an illegitimate brother? Why now?

"Dress up," he reminded me as he headed into his room. I followed him, hesitant.

"I... er... I have a show tonight, Jax. The director—"

"Don't bring that up," he snapped, turning to face me. "Not tonight. If you’re going to be here, you have to be by my side. I need you."

I swallowed hard. I hadn't been with him much lately due to my tight schedule. I watched him step into his massive closet and emerge with a dress, a stunning piece from the new Da Vinci collection. "This would be good for you."

I didn't object. I reached for my phone and dialed Sarah, my manager and best friend.

"Cancel whatever schedules I have today," I said the moment she picked up.

"What do you mean, Val? The director has been waiting for an hour. He's ready to crash out."

"My boyfriend needs me. It would be cruel to leave him by himself. I don't want to do that to him."

"Holy fuck, Val. If I tell that director anything, he’s going to hit me."

"Please, Sarah. Help me save my relationship. Jax has something going on. I can't let him figure it out alone."

"It sounds like you're going clubbing," she sighed. "If you are, tell me now so I can prepare for the leaked photos."

"I'm not going to a club, and I'm not attending a party," I lied. I couldn't handle being policed. I hung up before she could argue.

Two hours later, we weren't at a quiet gathering. We were at The Velvet Sin, an underground club where the bass was a physical pulse in the floor and the air smelled of expensive gin and sweat. It was a chaotic sea of Hollywood elite and shadow-dwellers. 

Jax handed me a mask, as he covered half of his face with the pretty mask, he helped me tie mine following what everyone had done because everyone's face was covered. 

Jaxson was drinking heavily, nodding along to friends, his hand anchored to my waist until the music shifted into something soulful and deep.

We danced for a while, his body a familiar weight against mine, until someone pulled him away for a shot. I stayed on the floor, the strobe lights dizzying. The crowd shifted, a wave of bodies pressing in, and suddenly, Jaxson was gone from my side.

In the dim, purple-hued darkness, a pair of hands slid onto my waist from behind. I assumed it was Jax, his way of pulling me back into his orbit. His mask was heavy on his face.

We continued dancing, his body moving in perfect synchronization with mine. It felt different, though heavier, more deliberate. The hands trailed slowly up the silk of my dress, mapping the curve of my back with a predatory slowness that made my breath hitch.

I leaned back, expecting Jaxson's scent, but I was met with something else, cedar, cold steel, and a power that felt ancient. The man leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his voice a dark, velvet

rasp that cut through the thunder of the music.

"I'm Cillian Vane and you?"