All Chapters of THE CEO'S VENGEFUL BRIDE : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Eleanor The ballroom smelled like roses and old money. Every table was draped in ivory silk, every chandelier dripping with crystals that caught the late afternoon sun. It should have been beautiful. It should have felt like a dream because this was my dream wedding. Instead, it felt like the stage for an execution.Mine or theirs. I hadn’t decided which one yet.I walked down the aisle on legs that didn’t belong to me. Every eye turned to watch, soft sighs echoing through the hush. My father stood at the altar, his expression pinched with the strain of pretending this marriage was more than a transaction. He nodded to me, the silent command clear: Be perfect. Be compliant. Be a good girl. Adrian waited beside him, impossibly handsome in his custom tuxedo. His dark hair was slicked back, his jaw freshly shaven. He looked exactly the way I’d once dreamed he would on our wedding day. For one fleeting, stupid heartbeat, my chest clenched with longing. Some fragile part of me still wan

Eleanor I don't remember how I found myself back at the ballroom. I only remembered the champagne. Glass after glass, each one colder and sweeter than the last. It went down like water, a slow burn in my veins that blurred the edges of reality until nothing mattered until I stopped caring that somewhere behind those gilded doors, my sister was marrying the man I’d thought would be mine.I found myself in the terrace garden, surrounded by flickering lanterns and the hush of night. My bare feet pressed into the damp grass. I could still hear the music through the glass walls waltz after waltz for the happy couple.I lifted another glass to my lips. Someone cleared their throat behind me.“Eleanor.”My name rolled off his tongue like an intimate secret. I turned slowly, unsteady on my feet. He stood in the shadows, tall and lean in a midnight-black suit. Dark hair, eyes the color of old whiskey, warm and watchful, even in the darkness.Damian Laird. The one man in that entire room who

Eleanor I don’t know what possessed me to do it.Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or the champagne still souring my stomach. Or the look in Damian’s eyes steady, unyielding, too much.But the moment he whispered, I’m not letting you go, something inside me snapped.I tore myself out of his arms and took three steps forward. The wooden planks of the pier were slick beneath my bare feet. My heartbeat was a frantic bird in my throat.“Eleanor.”His voice cut through the roar in my head, but I didn’t stop.I stepped into nothing.For an instant, I hung in midair, the world holding its breath.Then the river swallowed me whole.The cold was a brutal shock. It punched the breath from my lungs, turning my scream into a burst of bubbles. The current seized me, dragging me down. My skirts tangled around my legs, heavy and suffocating.Some dim part of me realized I was going to die here alone, unloved, forgotten.I closed my eyes.Then strong arms wrapped around me, hauling me up. I broke the sur

Eleanor. “Say I was interested,” I said, pretending to be far more engrossed in the state of my manicure than I really was. “There’s an early termination clause in my contract with Jeff Campbell.”“I’ll cover it,” Damian replied without hesitation.I blinked. Just like that?“And I’ll need an expense account,” I added, pressing my advantage while still pretending I didn’t care about his answer.He leaned in slightly, the crisp scent of his cologne wrapping around me again, making my heart beat faster, annoyingly so. I was noticing his scent far too much today.“Done,” he said. “As long as you don’t list your weekly manicures as business expenses.”And then he did something he absolutely shouldn’t have done. He reached out and took my hand.His touch was firm, warm, unexpected. His hands weren’t the smooth, manicured ones you’d expect from a man who owned boardrooms. They were rough, like he actually did things. My skin prickled at the contact, a ridiculous rush of heat sweeping throu

Eleanor “So do most women,” I said with a pointed look. “You just tend to date the kind who can’t talk and walk at the same time without injuring themselves.”Damian raised an eyebrow, his signature smirk curling at the edge of his mouth like he found me amusing. Of course he did.“I didn’t know you had an opinion on my choice of companions,” he said smoothly.I gritted my teeth. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I shield the public from the full horror of it. And I narrowed my eyes, “what exactly is wrong with the way I dress?”Because I knew there was something behind that comment about me not dressing like someone he’d take to a fundraiser. I spent an obscene amount of money on my wardrobe. Quality fabrics. Tailoring. Elegance and structure. My outfits were sleek, professional, press conference ready. I didn’t throw things I curated. I took my job seriously, and looking the part was part of the job.Damian leaned back in his chair and regarded me with his usual calm detachment