The storm had started hours before the ceremony, but no one noticed. My mind was too occupied with the thought that in a few hours, I would be married to a man I didn't love — a man I barely knew.
Adrian Moreau. The name alone carried weight, power, and danger. His family was influential, ruthless, untouchable and wealthy. And now, through a web of debts, pride, and misfortune, he was my husband.
I stared at myself in the mirror of my suite. The gown was exquisite, white silk flowing down to the floor, beautified with sequins that sparkled even in the dim light. My fingers trembled as I brushed my hair into place.
"Beautiful," said a soft voice behind me. My mother, pale and frazzled, forced a smile. "Your father… he would have been proud."
I nodded, unable to speak. Pride? Love? These were luxuries I couldn't afford. My father had gambled our family's fortune away, leaving only this: me, sold to clear off our debts in disguise as a marriage.
The ride to the cathedral was silent, the thunder outside echoing my own dread. When Adrian entered, the guests gasped. He was tall, impeccably dressed, with a cold elegance that made him seem untouchable. His eyes scanned the room, finally resting on me with something I couldn't quite name — curiosity? amusement? danger?
The ceremony passed in a blur. Vows were spoken, smiles exchanged, hands shaken. I felt like a doll on display, moving through motions I did not believe. And when the priest pronounced us husband and wife, the world seemed to tilt.
The ride back to the Moreau estate was even worse. Adrian said nothing, his fingers drumming impatiently on the leather armrest. I wanted to demand words, explanations, warmth — anything human. But I had learned long ago that defiance in Adrian's presence was dangerous.
The mansion loomed, dark and intimidating, its walls a labyrinth of secrets. Servants bowed as we entered, but their eyes flickered with curiosity and fear. This was Adrian's domain, and I was the intruder.
And then came the first night.
Adrian's bedroom was immense, furnished with marble and velvet. He stood by the window, back to me, sipping whiskey. I felt a shiver — not from the cold, but from the quiet menace in his posture.
"Sit," he commanded, voice low, smooth, and edged with authority.
I obeyed. My body tensed, my mind racing. This was not a man I could manipulate with charm or tears.
"Do you know why I married you?" he asked, still staring out the window.
I met his gaze. "Because your family wanted it?" I said cautiously.
A small, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. "Because you are… useful. Beautiful. And because you will do exactly as I say. Or else."
I swallowed hard. The threat was clear, but so was the challenge. I wouldn't be a pawn without a fight.
Hours passed in tense silence. Every glance, every movement, every word was a test. Adrian circled me, his eyes sharp, calculating. He wanted control; I wanted survival — and revenge.
When I finally slipped from the room under the guise of "resting," I found myself wandering the mansion's halls, drawn by a mixture of curiosity and defiance. Hidden doors, corridors, faint scents of cigars, and locked rooms hinted at secrets. Adrian's world was more dangerous than I imagined. And if I wanted to survive — maybe even turn the tables — I would have to learn every secret he thought was hidden.
By the time the storm outside had calmed, I returned to the bedroom. Adrian was asleep, his hand dangling from the edge of the bed. I stared for a long moment. I hated him. And yet… I recognized a dangerous allure, a strength I would need to match if I wanted to survive this marriage and win my revenge.
After my wedding night, nothing had changed on the surface. But inside me, a fire had been lit — a fire that would either consume me or transform me into something far more powerful than Adrian ever expected.