Stranger Ties
The marriage contract was drawn up in less than twenty-four hours. Zara sat in the ornate study, staring at the crisp pages laid out before her. Black ink on white paper. Her name beside Damien's. Everything about it felt surreal.
"Just sign," Damien said from across the room, pouring himself a drink.
Zara's hand hovered over the paper. "No ceremony?"
"No need. A quiet courthouse signing is safer. Public enough to be real, private enough to control the narrative."
"And your family?"
"They'll know after the board. I don't owe anyone more than that."
Zara frowned slightly. "You speak like you're always at war."
He looked over at her, glass in hand. "That's because I am."
She signed.
And just like that, Zara Martin became Zara Blackwood.
***
The media was buzzing within hours.
*"Billionaire Damien Blackwood Secretly Weds Unknown Woman"*
*"Who is Zara Blackwood?"*
*"Marriage or PR Stunt?"*
Zara watched the headlines with a numb heart. Eleanor had given her a few designer outfits and new heels nothing too flashy, just enough to look like she belonged. But she still felt out of place, walking beside Damien during their first official appearance.
They were attending a charity gala hosted by the mayor. Zara clutched her clutch tightly, her posture tense.
Damien leaned down slightly. "Smile."
She glanced at him.
"I'm not good at smiling on command."
"Pretend I told you a joke."
She forced a small smile. Cameras clicked.
Inside the venue, the air was warm with champagne, perfume, and plastic niceties. Damien was instantly surrounded by people—businessmen, politicians, and women who looked at Zara with barely veiled judgment.
"That must be her," someone whispered.
"Look at that dress. Off the rack, probably."
"I bet she's after his money."
Zara kept her face neutral. But inside, her pride bristled.
A tall, elegant woman with platinum-blonde hair approached. She wore red like a weapon, her lips curved in a practiced smile.
"Celine Valen," she introduced herself, ignoring Zara entirely.
"Celine," Damien said coolly. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Why wouldn't I come to the biggest gala of the year?" she purred, eyes flicking briefly to Zara before returning to Damien. "And you didn't tell me you got married."
"Wasn't exactly a planned event," he replied.
Zara extended a hand. "Nice to meet you."
Celine looked at the hand, then shook it like she'd been offered something diseased.
"Charmed," she said.
Zara's smile didn't waver.
Damien excused them both after a moment, his grip on Zara's lower back as they walked away firm but not possessive.
"She's going to be a problem," Zara murmured.
"She's already been one," Damien replied.
"Ex?"
"She wanted to be. I refused."
Zara's brow lifted. "You know, for someone with no interest in love, you collect quite a few admirers."
He gave her a sideways glance. "Don't get jealous now."
"I'm not. I just don't want to be another pawn in your game."
"Then don't play games with me," Damien said, his voice low. "Stay in your lane, and we'll both get what we want."
Zara turned her face away, hiding the heat that crept into her cheeks not from desire, but from irritation. He had a way of making her feel both seen and invisible in the same breath.
***
Later that night, Zara returned to her guest room which was bigger than her old apartment. She slipped off her heels, rubbed her sore feet, and opened her laptop.
Emails from her former job, unopened. Messages from her sister asking for money. Nothing new.
There was a knock.
She opened the door to find Eleanor standing there.
"I wanted to check on you," Eleanor said kindly.
Zara stepped aside to let her in.
"I survived," Zara said, settling on the bed.
"You did more than survive. You carried yourself well."
"People whispered. I heard them."
Eleanor smiled faintly. "Let them whisper. They did the same to me when I married into power."
Zara tilted her head. "Did you love your husband?"
There was a pause. Then, "No. But I grew to respect him. And that was enough to build something."
Zara looked down at her hands. "Do you think Damien will ever respect me?"
"I think he already does. He just doesn't know it yet."
Zara gave a small laugh. "I don't want him to fall for me."
"And yet, part of you wonders what it would feel like if he did."
Zara didn't answer.
***
In another wing of the mansion, Damien sat in his private lounge, staring at a photo of his parents. His mother's smile was warm; his father's expression stern. They died in a plane crash when Damien was only seventeen. From that moment on, everything changed.
His uncle had tried to seize the company.
His so-called friends disappeared.
And now, he had six years left to live—if that.
He downed his drink and leaned back, exhausted.
Zara had surprised him.
She didn't flinch under pressure. She didn't beg or plead. She didn't cry.
She held herself with quiet fire.
He hated how that intrigued him.
And that terrified him even more.
Bargains and Bruises*
Zara woke the next morning to the sharp scent of roses and cinnamon. A bouquet rested on her nightstand, its petals fresh, dewy. No note. Just presence.
She stared at it for a long second, then got up.
Downstairs, the house buzzed faintly with activity. Staff moved with the precision of shadows, offering polite smiles and warm nods. She was slowly becoming a fixture one no one dared challenge openly, yet not entirely welcomed.
In the dining room, she found Damien already seated, dressed in charcoal slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms and a silver watch. He sipped coffee like it was a ritual, his phone in the other hand.
"You're late," he said, without looking up.
"I didn't know there was a schedule," Zara replied, sliding into the seat across from him.
"There is now."
She bit into a slice of toast. "So what's on today's royal agenda?"
He finally looked up, eyes unreadable. "We have a board meeting this afternoon. You'll attend with me."
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because I need to remind a few vultures that I'm not as vulnerable as they think."
"And dragging your new wife to parade her around proves that?"
"It reminds them I'm in control."
Zara chewed slowly. "What do I get out of this?"
Damien's lips twitched. "Besides living in a mansion, eating three-course meals, and having your debts erased?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I never asked for any of that."
"Exactly. That's what makes you useful. You're not hungry. You're just... here. And people underestimate the ones who didn't come begging."
Zara sighed. "You're exhausting, you know that?"
"So I've been told."
***
The boardroom at Blackwood Industries was an expanse of glass, steel, and tension. Zara entered by Damien's side, wearing a deep navy dress Eleanor had picked out. It hugged her frame modestly but confidently, with gold accents at the cuffs.
The moment they stepped in, all conversation ceased.
Twelve men and one woman sat around the table. Damien's presence was immediate an unspoken command that silenced dissent.
"This is Zara Blackwood," he said. "You've seen the news. Now you've seen her."
"Convenient timing," muttered one board member. Gregory Mays. Zara would remember that name.
Damien turned his icy gaze on him. "Everything I do is with purpose, Gregory. Don't mistake surprise for strategy."
Zara remained silent but stood tall. Let them doubt her. Let them whisper. She wasn't here to be accepted she was here to endure.
After the meeting, as they walked to the elevator, Damien said nothing for several moments.
"You held your ground well," he said finally.
"Was I supposed to tremble?"
He gave a short laugh. "You're tougher than I thought."
"I had to be."
He looked at her, something softer flickering in his expression for a heartbeat before he masked it. "Good."
***
That evening, Zara stood in front of the mirror in her room, pulling pins from her hair. Her phone buzzed. A message from her sister.
*"Mom needs help again. Send something. Please."*
Zara didn't reply. She turned off the phone and tossed it on the bed. This was her life now. The past was done begging.
A knock came, and she opened the door to find Eleanor.
"Walk with me?" the older woman asked.
Outside, the garden smelled of fresh earth and lilies. Moonlight bathed the stone paths in silver.
"You're adjusting quickly," Eleanor said.
"I've had to adjust my entire life."
"I imagine your upbringing wasn't easy."
Zara hesitated. "It taught me to stop expecting rescue."
Eleanor stopped walking. "You think that's what this is? A rescue?"
"No," Zara said. "It's a deal. Like every other choice I've ever made."
Eleanor smiled faintly. "You remind me of myself. I married into power to save my family. My husband never loved me, but he respected my grit. I built my strength in the silence, in the corners men left for me."
Zara looked at her. "Did you regret it?"
"Sometimes. But then I remember how far I've come."
Zara nodded. "I just want to come out of this alive. Not as a pawn. Not as a casualty."
"You won't be," Eleanor said. "If you keep that fire alive."
***
Later that night, Zara sat at the window, watching Damien outside on a call. His posture was tense, jaw clenched. She couldn't hear the words, but his expression said everything rage barely held back.
He looked like a man fighting ghosts.
Maybe that's why she hadn't walked away yet.
Maybe because her own ghosts whispered the same.