VALERIA
Not long after Mrs. Hale left, one of the house helpers knocked gently on my door. She informed me that the people sent by the man I was to marry had arrived.
I wasn’t surprised he hadn’t come himself. Why would he? In his eyes, I likely wasn’t important enough to warrant a personal appearance, not after he'd maintained his mysterious person for so long.
Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Or at least... uneasy.
Marrying a man I knew virtually nothing about felt like walking off a cliff blindfolded. All I had to go on were the rumors of his personality. Ruthless. Vicious. Heartless.
There were more. But they all meant the same thing: my groom wasn't going to be easy to please. In fact, living with him will likely be no different from being on a survival show.
Fortunately, I had a trump card.
Something I’d been keeping tucked away, originally meant to negotiate my freedom with my father when the day came that he tried to pawn me off to some convenient business ally.
I hadn’t imagined I’d end up in a twisted situation like this. But it's no big deal—the person I'll be negotiating with will only change to Mr. Devil instead.
That thought gave me a sliver of confidence, and I held on to it like a lifeline.
After asking the helper to take my two suitcases downstairs, I turned toward the mirror to give myself one final look. I didn’t bother changing out of the ripped jeans or the baggy black T-shirt with the skull print. Let them judge me. I wasn’t here to play the obedient daughter or a happy bride. I was just trying to leave this house with my dignity intact.
...
Downstairs
As I descended the stairs, the entire living room came into view. Seated directly in front of the staircase, his back to me, was a man. From the way my usually arrogant father and ever-superior brother stood beside him with subtle respect, I could guess he wasn’t just anyone—he was someone important.
Probably the leader of the delegation sent by my groom.
I began to shift my gaze elsewhere when I felt it burning stares on my body.
I glanced toward the source and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find my mother glaring, while my father and Aaron wore nearly identical looks of disapproval.
I looked down at my outfit and chuckled inwardly.
Did they really expect me to come down in a silk dress, heels, and makeup? Did they think I’d smile sweetly and bat my lashes as if I were walking down the aisle by choice?
In their dreams.
To them, this might just be another transaction. Another power move.
But for me, it was the day my future was stolen. Again.
I was being sold to the most feared man in Meteor City—a man people didn’t even whisper about without glancing over their shoulders.
And in case, my plan didn’t work on him, I might end up with far worse than a bruised ego.
Even if the deal went through and I managed to escape him after a few years, I’d still carry the label of a divorcee.
This doesn't mean that I look down on divorced women, but rather, I hope it could be by my own choice. Not one forced upon me.
So, no. Today wasn't a good day for me.
Just then, the man I presumed ro be the leader of the delegation turned.
He only glanced over his shoulder, but that was enough.
My world just... stopped.
I held my breath, staring at that face in stunned silence.
People would occasionally ask me what my “type” was. I used to brush it off with vague answers—“I don’t have one,” or “depends on the vibe”—but deep down, I knew.
Because I’d created him in my mind a long time ago.
An image I returned to in the privacy of dreams.
The perfect face, the perfect gaze. Everything tailored according to my aesthetics.
An apparition I knew I'd never get to meet in reality.
But he was sitting right there.
Chestnut hair. Grey eyes. Silver-rimmed glasses. He looked calm and sharp.
The prototype I had once conjured up in the deepest recess of my mind was now flesh and blood, sitting a distance away from me.
Before I realized what I was doing, my feet had moved.
Step by step, I walked toward him—completely controlled by instinct. I didn’t stop until I stood directly in front of him, my hand reaching out on its own.
I wanted to touch him, just to make sure he was real.
“Valeria!” my mother’s voice tore through the room.
Pain shot through my wrist as she grabbed and squeezed my hand—hard. I instantly snapped out of the trance and turned to look at her, my eyes faintly bewildered.
She smiled apologetically at the man, then leaned in and hissed between clenched teeth, “What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to embarrass us?”
Then, after a pause, she whispered. “Wait... You didn’t think he was your groom, did you?”
The way she said it, with underlying scorn, hit me harder than it should have.
As if someone like him was too far out of reach for someone like me.
I yanked my hand from hers. “No,” I replied coldly.
And I wouldn’t admit—even to myself—that part of me had hoped. That some naïve, buried part of me thought maybe... just maybe...
I turned back toward the man, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must’ve looked. Staring at him like a lovesick fool.
“I apologize for staring,” I said, stepping forward and bowing slightly. “You reminded me of someone I once knew. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Was it true? Partially.
Because from now on, he will slowly become a forgotten part of my life.
I had no space in my life for whatever he awakened in me.
Not now.
I wanted freedom. And marrying the devil was the price.
If my plan worked, I’d be out of his life in a few years and free for good. And what I was offering... well, no businessman in his right mind could resist.
Not even a ruthless one.
So no, I didn’t have time for attraction to a man who used to be a figment of my imagination.
Especially not when he was the subordinate of the man I was about to marry.
Fortunately, if all went well, I wouldn’t be seeing this man again.
And thank God for that—because the temptation he carried in his calm and quiet presence was far too dangerous.