"Look at you, Elena," Cassandra sneered, leaning against the doorframe of the dressing room while swirling a glass of expensive champagne. "A discarded rag wearing a discarded dress. How fitting for the future Mrs. Adrian Vance." Elena didn't look up from her reflection. She adjusted the cheap, scratchy veil that was pinned haphazardly into her dark hair. "If the dress is so fitting, Cassandra, why aren't you the one wearing it? After all, the marriage alliance was originally yours." Cassandra’s face contorted in disgust. She set her glass down with a sharp clink. "Marry him? Are you insane? Everyone knows what happened to Adrian after that accident. He’s a monster! Wheelchair-bound, completely disfigured, and word is... he can’t even perform as a man. I am destined for greatness, Elena. Not to be a nursemaid to a limp, useless freak." "So you made me your substitute," Elena said, her voice eerily calm despite the fire burning in her chest. "You should be thanking us," her ste

There were no cascading white orchids, no symphonic orchestra—just a dozen rows of gold-gilded chairs occupied by low-tier gossip reporters and distant, estranged relatives who had only come for the free champagne and the free show. "Is that really her?" a woman in the third row whispered, her voice carrying easily across the echoing room. "Look at the dress. It looks like she bought it from a clearance rack. I suppose it’s matching energy for a groom who can't even stand up." "Shh, she’ll hear you," her companion giggled, snapping a photo on her phone. "Not that it matters. Everyone knows her father threw her to the wolves to save his own skin." Elena kept her chin parallel to the floor, her eyes locked straight ahead on the empty altar. She could hear every venomous word, every click of a camera shutter. She gripped her bouquet of cheap, wilting white roses so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Miss Hunt," a cold, clinical voice cut through her thoughts. Elena blinked and look

Elena sat rigidly on the edge of the massive four-poster bed. The cheap, wet fabric of her wedding dress clung cold against her skin, but she refused to lie down. She refused to look weak, even if there was no one in the room to see her. A crack of thunder shook the heavy stone walls of the mansion, vibrating right through her bones. Elena squeezed her eyes shut, drawing a slow, shaking breath. "Get a grip, Elena," she whispered to herself into the hollow quiet. "You survived Richard Hunt. You survived Cassandra. You can survive whatever is behind those doors." She had spent the last three hours staring into the shadows, mentally bracing herself. She had pictured every horrific scenario. She imagined a man twisted by bitterness, his face scarred beyond recognition, bound to a motorized wheelchair, perhaps lashing out at her to vent his rage at the world. She had resolved to be patient. She would be his nursemaid if she had to, just to build her own strength and bide her time.

Adrian closed the remaining distance between them. The sheer mass of his body crowded her, his dominant aura so suffocatingly intense that the air seemed to drain instantly from the room. Elena felt her back press against the hard wooden post of the bed. She had nowhere left to retreat. Suddenly, large, calloused fingers wrapped around her jawline. Adrian’s grip was like iron, unyielding but precise. He tilted her face upward, forcing her to look toward him in the dark. Even without the lightning, she could feel the lethal glare radiating from his icy-grey eyes. "Let go of me," Elena said, her voice tight, refusing to let it shake. "Let go?" Adrian’s baritone voice dripped with a terrifying softness. "You enter my house, wear my name, and expect to dictate terms? Tell me, what did Richard Hunt promise you for this assignment? A percentage of the company? A cut of whatever secrets you manage to steal from my bedroom?" "I told you, I am not a spy," she hissed, trying to pull away,

Adrian released his iron grip on Elena’s jaw, stepping back into the shadows. He let out a low, cynical sneer, though his icy-grey eyes never left her face. "You are a strange creature, Elena Hunt," Adrian said, pocketing the blade. "Most women in your position would be crying on the floor by now, begging for their lives or offering me their bodies to spare their skin. Yet you stand there offering me a partnership." Elena exhaled slowly, massaging her bruised jaw, but she kept her back straight. "Because tears won't buy my freedom, and my body isn't a bargaining chip. I am practical, Mr. Vance. Unlike the women you are used to, I have absolutely nothing left to lose." Adrian crossed his arms, leaning his massive frame against a heavy wooden pillar. "An alliance requires leverage. You claim you want to help me destroy the Hunts, yet you carry their blood. Why should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth? Who are you, really?" "I am the family ghost," Elena replied, her voic

All Chapters of Ruthless Husband, Secret Ruler: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

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