❤️ Until Destiny Interfered With Revenge ❤️

The Birthday Nightmare

I woke up this morning to a loud, rhythmic banging in my ears, my heart, my headache, or maybe just the universe reminding me that today I turn twenty-five.

Twenty-five. A quarter of a century. In my parents' world, that’s the equivalent of an expiration date.

I sat up, the silk sheets of my bed feeling like a cold reminder of the gilded cage I lived in. I could practically smell the desperation coming from my parents' wing of the mansion. They think I don’t see the panic in their eyes as each birthday passes without a husband in sight.

They think I’m oblivious to the "crisis meetings" they have behind closed doors.

Honestly? It’s hilarious.

Every year, they trot out a new line of "successful" men like they’re trying to sell me a used car. And every year, I chew them up and spit them out. They blame the rumors, the legend of the "Spoiled Heiress" who breaks men for fun. I call it high standards. If a guy can’t handle me at my worst, he definitely doesn’t deserve me when I’m wearing four carats on each ear. I don’t give a damn about explaining myself.

If the rumors scare them off, it just saves me a boring dinner date.

"Happy Birthday, Ivanna," I whispered to my reflection, blowing a kiss at the mirror. "Let the games begin."

I dragged myself out of bed and spent four hours getting prepared for the "Big Day." My parents had spent a small fortune on this ceremony, imported roses, Italian chandeliers, fireworks that probably cost more than a suburban house.

We’re the Seans, after all. One of the richest dynasties in the city. If we’re going to be desperate, we’re going to do it in style.

By the time I walked down the grand staircase, the room was a sea of gold and fake smiles. I could hear the whispers starting before my heels even hit the marble.

"There she is. The demon in the Dior."

"Twenty suitors... and she still looks that smug."

Another added.

"Beauty without grace. Such a waste"

"Twenty suitors? Even a demon would have accidentally married one by now."

I swept through the crowd, my chin high, wearing a white silk gown that cost more than a suburban house. I was bored within ten minutes. I was looking for a drink, or an exit, whichever came first.

I didn't realize that in a dark corner of the hall, someone was looking for me.

Tucked away in a dark corner of the hall, a young man sat completely still.

He didn't belong to the glittering chaos around him. And somehow, that made him more noticeable than anyone else in the room.

A young man appeared at his shoulder and bowed.

"Everything is in order, according to plan, my Prince." Nicholas said with a bow.

The man in the shadows didn't look up. He watched the deep, rust-colored wine move in his glass, slow, unhurried circles. He was Eugene York, a phantom prince of the York Clan, a bloodline so old and dangerous that governments whispered their name in fear. He hadn't come here for a party. He had come for a massacre.

"Nicolás. Put the plan on hold."

"My Prince?"

"The strategy has changed." Eugene looked up, the candlelight catching his sharp jaw and eyes that held absolutely nothing warm. "Approach the Sean family tonight. Propose a marriage alliance."

A beat of horrified silence. "What? Marriage? I thought we came here for revenge? Don't be carried away by her beauty and forget the plan my prince. Marriage is not a strategic tool to be deployed on a whim. Besides... her reputation is catastrophic! She is beneath your station."

"You misunderstand me." Eugene set his glass down with a soft, precise click. He smiled, a slow, deliberate, wicked curve of the lips. "I’m not abandoning my revenge, Nicolás. I’m simply choosing a more... intimate strategy. I’ll marry her. I’ll let her watch while her precious family crumbles from the inside. And when I’m done?"

He lifted the glass again. "I’ll divorce her. Quietly. Without looking back."

The Deal is Struck.

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, the atmosphere had shifted. The air felt heavy, like the moments before a lightning strike.

My father was suddenly glowing. My mother was pressing a hand to her heart, tears of relief streaming down her face. They weren't looking at the corporate moguls anymore. They were looking at him.

He stepped out of the shadows, moving with the unhurried grace of a predator who already knew the kill was his. He called himself "Eugene Y."

A man with no history, a billionaire phantom who had appeared out of nowhere to offer my parents exactly what they were starving for: an antidote to my reputation.

"I believe," he said, his voice silk wrapped around cold steel, "I am interested in your daughter."

My parents didn't ask questions.

Desperation doesn't have a voice. They just smiled and handed me over like a trophy. Within seventy-two hours, the headlines were screaming: SEAN HEIRESS TO WED MYSTERIOUS TYCOON.

But as I stood in the center of our grand estate, watching a convoy of luxury cars deliver "gifts" that felt more like a down payment on my soul.

The Faceless Groom

The wedding wasn't a fairy tale. It was a business transaction conducted in a graveyard of white lilies.

The speed with which my parents acted was frankly insulting. Only days after my birthday, the deal was already sealed. They told me his name was Eugene whatever, a supposed angel in human clothing, with enough power and money to eradicate my well-deserved title as the Legendary Spoiled Brat and cover it up with endless layers of gold.

I didn't care. I didn't even ask for a photo. Deep down, I didn’t give a damn. Why torture myself? He was probably another boring suit with a receding hairline and all the charm of wet cardboard. So I spent my engagement week wrapped in silk robes, bored to tears, blissfully ignoring all the frantic wedding preparations swirling around me.

"Ivanna, don't you want to meet him?" my mother had pleaded, her hands trembling as she held a lace veil.

"Does he have a pulse and a checkbook?" I asked, not looking up from my manicure. "If yes, we’re good. Just tell me where to stand so I can get back to my life." I scoffed, "Eugene huh? I guess he is just another one of the lucky twenty-one."

The ceremony was held in a private chapel on the outskirts of the city, no press, no guests, just the cold smell of old stone and desperation. I walked down the aisle with my veil pulled low, a heavy, lace curtain that turned the world into a blur of white.

I didn't look at him. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I caught the scent of him, cedar and something sharp, like cold steel, and the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark suit. But that was it.

He didn't look at me, either. He stood there like a statue, his presence radiating a chill that made the flowers wilt. When he spoke his vows, his voice was a low, melodic baritone that didn't hold a single ounce of emotion. He sounded like he was reading a grocery list, not a lifelong commitment.

"I do," he said. The words were short. Final. Like a door slamming shut.

I slid the ring onto his finger without even glancing at his hand. I felt the brief touch of his skin, cold, firm, and steady. My own hand didn't shake. I was Ivanna Sean; I didn't do nerves.

The "kiss" was a formality that didn't even happen. He simply turned away the second the officiant pronounced us man and wife, heading for the exit without a word.

"Well," I whispered to the empty chapel as my parents wept with relief in the background. "At least he’s not a talker."

Eugene didn't look back as he stepped into the black SUV waiting outside the chapel. He didn't know what color his wife’s eyes were. He didn't care about the shape of her smile. To him, Ivanna Sean was just a name on a contract, the daughter of the man who had tried to ruin his lineage.

"It is done, my Prince," Nicolás whispered from the front seat.

Eugene twisted the platinum band on his finger. It felt like a shackle, but a necessary one. "She didn't even lift her veil."

"She is as arrogant as the rumors say," Nicolás replied. "She likely thinks you are beneath her notice."

Eugene watched the gray city blur past the window. A slow, lethal smile touched his lips. "Good. Let her stay in her ivory tower a little longer. It will make the fall that much more spectacular."

He hadn't seen her face. He hadn't felt a single spark. He had invited a "demon" into his life, and he was already planning how to exorcise her once the Sean empire was in ashes.h8