Chapter 1: The Dinner

Elena's pov

Crack.

The slap sent me flying two steps back.

My cheek burned like fire and the taste of blood burst on my tongue.

"I told you to stop bothering your husband with nonsense!"

Mrs. Sterling stood over me, her pearls perfect, her hand still raised. She didn't even look at her palm. She just smoothed her expensive dress like she had swatted a fly.

I pressed a shaking hand to my face, already feeling the bruise forming.

I've been married for three years, and this was still my life.

Three minutes earlier, I had walked into Marcus's study with a single piece of paper. The quarterly summary, sent to every member of the board. Forty-seven million dollars was missing from the logistics division and I had no idea where it went, but I had spotted three transfers through the same shell company on matching dates. I had already copied the pages and hidden them inside one of my father's old books.

He never told me anything about the company anymore.

"Enter," he had said without looking up.

Marcus Sterling sat behind his mahogany desk, sleeves rolled, whiskey in hand. I looked at husband. The man who promised at my father's funeral that he would protect me.

"I received the quarterly summary this morning," I said, keeping my voice flat the way he liked it. Spine straight, hands folded. "Several financial items do not match. There are major inconsistencies under the logistics division."

He finally looked up. His blue eyes cold as ice.

"How many times do we have to have this conversation, Elena?"

His voice was cold. Threatening.

"Stay away from company affairs. Your job is to be my wife. Take care of the house and look presentable for my guests. Is that too much to ask?"

A spark of defiance flared in my chest. I was tired of being a doll and I had to speak up at some point. But I had already lost my voice.

"But I am still the majority shareholder," I whispered. "My father built Hart Global and my name is on the incorporation documents. I have a right to understand why forty-seven million—"

I never finished the sentence.

The study door swung open and Mrs. Sterling stormed in. That's when she slapped me.

Now, she pointed a sharp manicured finger at my chest.

"Your father's company?" she hissed. "Let me remind you of something, Elena. Five years ago, your father had a sudden heart attack and dropped dead. Who saved you from the massive debt he left behind? My son did. Without Marcus, your family name would be trash in the gutter. You would be begging on the streets!"

"Marcus was just the manager," I whispered, tears burning my eyes. "My father trusted him to hold the fort for me to gain more experience."

"Marcus saved his legacy!" she snapped. "You gave up your rights the day you begged my son to marry you three years ago. You should spend less time pretending you understand finance and more time being grateful on your knees that you have a roof over your head."

The door opened again and Clara, Marcus's sister, walked in wrapped in expensive perfume. She dropped onto the sofa and crossed her legs, laughing softly.

"She simply cannot accept that a useless housewife doesn't belong in the boardroom," Clara sneered, looking me up and down. "Look at you. Pathetic. Remember how you used to parade around seven years ago thinking you were some kind of corporate prodigy? Look where that got you. Powerless and completely dependent on us."

Seven years ago.

The words hit harder than the slap.

Seven years ago, I walked into a boardroom in New York and created a storm. I was twenty-one, fearless, and everyone said I was the future of Hart Global. My father was so proud. And so scared.

My father's voice flashed in my memory.

"She's brilliant, but not experienced enough," he told Marcus. "Hold the company for her… teach her."

I thought I could trust Marcus. I genuinely thought he loved me when my father died but I was so wrong.

If not for what happened seven years ago, I would be controlling my father's legacy right now. Instead, I handed everything over in the name of marriage.

Tears burned but I refused to let them fall.

Marcus finally set his whiskey glass down with a sharp click.

"Enough. Elena knows she is nothing without me."

He looked at me, his eyes completely blank.

"Which brings me to tonight. We are expecting three extremely important guests. They will be staying in the east wing for several days while we finalize a massive liquidity deal. I need you to host them properly."

My stomach tightened. My last encounter with powerful men had ended in disaster seven years ago.

"Who are they?" I forced myself to ask.

"The men who hold our future in their hands." His eyes flicked over my bruised face, then down to my faded navy dress. "Go upstairs. Cover that mark with makeup and wear the green dress with the high neck. You are expected to be charming. Smile, pour the wine and go back to bed when I tell you to. Never answer questions about the company. Do you understand?"

I looked at Marcus. Then at his mother, who smiled like a vulture.

I no longer recognized the woman I used to be.

"Yes, Marcus," I whispered.

"Good. Do not disappoint me."

I turned and walked out. I didn't cry until I reached the privacy of my bedroom.

I covered the bruise with a thick concealer. The green silk dress was tight, with a high neck to hide everything. I forced my expression to become blank like a perfect, obedient doll.

Just after seven, the first car arrived.

I stood in the grand entrance hall beside Marcus. His mother and Clara waited a few steps behind us, wearing their sweet, poisonous smiles like the perfect family.

The heavy front doors swung open and three men stepped into the marble foyer.

Time stopped.

The man in front was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a sharp black suit that seemed to absorb the light. His dark eyes scanned the room once, then locked onto mine. And didn't let go.

The second man followed. Golden hair catching the chandelier light, amber eyes fixing on my face with an intensity that made my breath catch.

The third man was leaner, silent, with piercing silver eyes that cut straight through me. Like he was reading my soul.

A violent chill swept down my spine. My legs felt heavy, pinning me to the marble floor.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.

No… It can't be…

Why did my heart start hammering like a trapped bird? Why did my skin burn where their eyes touched me?

Marcus stepped forward, breaking the spell. He flashed a wide, desperate, eager smile and extended his hand.

"Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Hayes, Mr. Kane. Welcome to the Sterling estate," he said, his voice too high. "This is my wife, Elena."

The man in the center ignored Marcus completely. He took a slow step into my personal space, towering over me. The sheer size of him was terrifying.

"Damien Blackwood," he said in a low, rough growl that vibrated straight through the floorboards.

He extended his hand. I hesitated until Marcus cleared his throat sharply behind me. I quickly placed my hand in his.

His palm was incredibly hot. His large fingers closed around mine, crushing and possessive, not letting go.

His dark gaze drifted down to my neck, to the high collar hiding my bruise, then back up to my face. Slowly assessing me like a predator cornering its prey.

I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened for one more intense second before he finally released me.

The second man stepped into his place.

"Adrian Hayes. A pleasure, Mrs. Sterling," he murmured, golden and charming, but his amber eyes were dangerous.

He didn't wait for me to offer my hand. He caught my fingers. His thumb brushed deliberately against the inside of my wrist and a sharp, low jolt of electricity shot straight across my skin. Goosebumps broke out along my arms.

He lingered, tracing a slow line over my knuckles, before stepping back.

The third man walked up.

"Roman Kane."

His touch was firm, steady, and strangely calming. Something deep inside my memory sparked violently.

Seven years ago. A long glass table. And three furious faces staring at me.

My hand trembled in his.

I pulled back, deeply unsettled.

"Let's move into the dining room," Marcus said quickly. "Dinner is served."

We moved to the long mahogany table. Clara immediately pushed past me, angling her body toward Damien, her fingers reaching out to brush his shoulder.

"Mr. Blackwood, I heard your firm just closed a massive acquisition in Singapore—"

Damien completely ignored her. He picked up his whiskey, took a slow sip, and turned his head entirely toward me.

And when our eyes locked again, that strange familiarity hit me like a punch.

I knew them… but from where?

And why did it feel like they had come back to destroy me?