Chapter 1
The first time I met Adrian Blackwood, he looked at me as though I were something he had bought and regretted purchasing.
Unfortunately, he had bought me.
Not literally, of course.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself as I stood in front of a mirror wearing a wedding dress that cost more than my father's hospital bills.
My hands trembled as I adjusted the diamond necklace around my neck.
Three hours ago, I had been Amara Williams, a twenty-three-year-old woman who worked two jobs, dreamed of becoming a fashion designer, and believed that love was supposed to be a choice.
Now, I was about to become the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the country.
A man I had met exactly twice.
A man who had made it clear on both occasions that he despised me.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Five minutes, Miss Williams."
The wedding planner's voice was painfully cheerful.
I stared at my reflection.
"Mrs. Blackwood," I whispered.
The name tasted like a threat.
My phone vibrated on the dressing table.
A message from my younger sister, Lily.
LILY: Amara, please tell me you're not actually going through with this.
My throat tightened.
I typed a reply.
ME: I have to.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
LILY: You don't have to destroy your life to save Dad.
I closed my eyes.
If only it were that simple.
My father's company had collapsed six months earlier. His debts had piled up, creditors had begun threatening our family, and his deteriorating health had left us with nowhere to turn.
Then Adrian Blackwood had appeared.
He offered to clear every debt.
Pay for my father's treatment.
Protect my family from the people who wanted to ruin us.
In exchange, I would marry him.
One year.
That was all he wanted.
One year of being his wife in public, attending his business functions, smiling for cameras, and pretending that our marriage was real.
After twelve months, he promised I would be free.
There was only one condition.
I must never fall in love with him.
As if that were something I needed to worry about.
I slipped my phone into my handbag and walked toward the door.
Whatever happened today, I would survive it.
For my father.
For Lily.
And for the life I still hoped to have someday.
---
The church was filled with people who looked as though they had stepped out of a luxury magazine.
Diamonds glittered beneath the chandeliers. Cameras flashed. Whispers followed me as I walked down the aisle.
And at the altar stood Adrian Blackwood.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit.
His dark hair was neatly styled, and his expression was colder than the marble beneath my heels.
He didn't smile when he saw me.
He didn't even pretend to be happy.
His eyes traveled over my face before settling on mine.
"You're late," he muttered as I reached him.
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Good afternoon to you too, Your Majesty."
His jaw tightened.
"Don't test me, Amara."
"Then don't speak to me as if I'm your employee."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Surprise, perhaps.
Then it disappeared.
The ceremony began.
I barely heard the priest's words. My attention was fixed on the man standing beside me, on the stranger who was about to become my husband.
When the time came to exchange vows, Adrian spoke first.
"I, Adrian Blackwood, take you, Amara Williams, to be my lawfully wedded wife."
His voice was steady and emotionless.
Then it was my turn.
"I, Amara Williams, take you, Adrian Blackwood, to be my lawfully wedded husband."
The words felt like a door closing behind me.
The priest smiled.
"You may kiss the bride."
My entire body stiffened.
Adrian leaned toward me, his expression unreadable.
"Don't make a scene," he whispered.
"Then don't give me a reason to."
His eyes narrowed.
A second later, his lips touched mine.
It was supposed to be a meaningless kiss.
A performance for the cameras.
But when his hand settled against my waist, I felt the tension in his fingers.
For one strange second, neither of us moved away.
Then he released me.
The applause erupted around us.
And just like that, I was Mrs. Adrian Blackwood.
---
The drive to his mansion was silent.
I sat in the back of a black Mercedes, watching the city disappear behind us.
Adrian sat beside me, scrolling through his phone as if our wedding had been nothing more than an inconvenient business meeting.
"Let me make something clear," he said without looking up.
I turned toward him.
"I'm listening."
"Our marriage is a business arrangement. You will have everything you need. Money, security, access to whatever you want. But you will not interfere with my personal life."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you won't question where I go, who I see, or what I do."
I laughed without humor.
"Don't worry. I'm not interested in managing your life."
"Good."
"And you won't interfere with mine."
That earned me his attention.
He slowly lowered his phone.
"Your life?"
"Yes, my life. I may be your wife on paper, but that doesn't mean you own me."
For several seconds, he simply stared at me.
Then he leaned back.
"We'll see how long that confidence lasts."
I turned toward the window.
"Trust me, Adrian. I'm not the one who should be worried."
I had no idea why I said it.
Perhaps it was anger.
Perhaps it was fear.
Or perhaps some stubborn part of me refused to let this man believe he had already won.
The car turned through enormous iron gates.
His mansion rose before us, all dark stone, towering windows, and perfectly trimmed gardens.
It was beautiful.
And somehow, it looked like a prison.
A staff member opened the door.
I stepped out, gathered the hem of my dress, and followed Adrian inside.
The entrance hall was enormous. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, and a grand staircase curved toward the upper floors.
"Your room is upstairs," Adrian said.
"Our room?"
"Your room."
I frowned.
"I thought we were married."
"We are."
"Then why do you sound disappointed about it?"
He looked at me.
"Because I value my privacy."
"And I value basic human decency. Yet here we are, both making sacrifices."
For a moment, I thought he might actually smile.
Instead, he turned toward the staircase.
"Come with me."
I followed him upstairs, wondering how I had managed to marry a man who could make an entire house feel cold simply by walking into it.
He stopped outside a bedroom door and handed me a small silver key.
"This room is yours. My study is at the end of the corridor. Don't enter it."
I took the key.
"What's in there? Your collection of broken hearts?"
His expression hardened.
"Stay away from my study, Amara."
The warning in his voice silenced me.
He walked away without another word.
I entered my bedroom and shut the door.
For the first time that day, I allowed myself to breathe.
I kicked off my heels, sat on the edge of the enormous bed, and stared at the diamond ring on my finger.
One year.
Three hundred and sixty-five days.
Then freedom.
I could do this.
I had to.
A sudden vibration interrupted my thoughts.
My phone.
An unknown number.
I frowned and opened the message.
UNKNOWN: Congratulations on your wedding, Amara.
My stomach tightened.
Another message arrived.
UNKNOWN: I hope you understand what you've done.
I sat up straight.
ME: Who is this?
The reply came almost instantly.
UNKNOWN: Someone who knows why Adrian Blackwood really married you.
My fingers went cold.
ME: What are you talking about?
This time, the response took longer.
Then my screen lit up.
UNKNOWN: Your father didn't lose his company by accident.
I stopped breathing.
A final message appeared.
UNKNOWN: And if you want to know who destroyed your family, start by asking your husband what happened to his first fiancée.
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
His first fiancée?
Adrian had never mentioned another woman.
Before I could type another message, the unknown number sent one final warning.
UNKNOWN: Whatever you do, Amara, don't fall in love with Adrian Blackwood.
A noise sounded outside my bedroom.
Footsteps.
I quickly locked my phone and turned toward the door.
Someone was standing on the other side.
Then came a quiet knock.
"Amara?"
Adrian's voice.
I rose slowly.
"Yes?"
His reply sent a chill through me.
"Open the door."
I hesitated.
"Why?"
Silence.
Then, in a voice so cold it barely sounded human, my new husband said:
"Because I need to ask you something."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"What?"
Another pause.
"Who just sent you that message?"
