On the morning of her wedding, Olivia Grey woke up in a bed softer than morality. White sheets, gold-trimmed windows, silence so thick it echoed. The Sinclair estate was less a home and more a temple to power. Sweeping staircases were staff that moved like ghosts, and eyes always watching. She stood at the edge of the room in a silk robe someone else had chosen, staring out at the Hudson River, her fingers trembling as they reached for a glass of orange juice she didn't ask for.
Today, she will marry Alexander Sinclair, the titan and kingmaker. They had met just four weeks ago and yet here she was, the legal documents signed, the press already salivating, the staff instructed to address her as 'Mrs. Sinclair'. A whirlwind of luxury and silence had carried her into this day like a storm she hadn't dared to name.
She turned from the window and walked to the vanity where a note lay waiting. You'll be my wife by noon. Wear the emeralds, they're yours now - A.
The same necklace from the gala. Only now it wasn't loaned, it was hers. Olivia stared at it; the cold green stones nestled in black velvet. She felt their weight already at her throat not as jewelry, but as a leash.
Still, she wasn't here by accident. She'd made the choice. Stepped into the fire, the girl she used to be would've run but Olivia Grey was no longer a girl.
She was a woman about to marry a billionaire. And perhaps, though she wouldn't admit it aloud, about to betray one.
The Sinclair chapel was filled with people who smiled with their teeth and lied with their eyes.
Journalists sat in the back like vultures in Prada. CEOs whispered to senators. A famous actress openly wept. No one asked if the bride was nervous because in this world, nerves were for the poor. Alexander stood at the altar in a tailored black tuxedo, his presence devouring the room; calm, poised, as if marrying a woman thirty years younger was a business transaction. Albeit one he thoroughly enjoyed closing.
Olivia walked down the aisle alone. No family. No friends. Just cameras flashing like warning sirens and the knowledge that her every step was a headline.
But the real tension came from the far-left pew where Liam Sinclair sat, stone-faced, Alexander's only son, the heir, the exile.
He hadn't lived in the main estate in two years. Rumors swirled of internal battles, disinheritance threats, and silent wars no boardroom ever saw. Olivia had never met him, but she'd seen his photo. Recognized the sharp jawline, the cold, calculating stare, the Sinclair fire'.
He didn't smile when she passed. Didn't blink. But she felt it, the heat of his gaze. Not lust, not hatred, something older. Recognition?
The ceremony was short. Too efficient, too choreographed. Olivia barely remembered the vows, only the way Alexander kissed her, slow and firm, like sealing a contract.
Applause, champagne, cameras, a diamond slipped onto her finger, and a name onto her soul Mrs. Olivia Sinclair.
The reception roared on the estate's south lawn. Waiters glided between fountains and violins played beneath fairy lights. Alexander disappeared into a circle of investors and old-money ghosts. Olivia, exhausted and sober behind her smile, stood alone by the rose arch, breathing in the perfume of power. That was when she saw him again, Liam.
He stood at a far end of the room, hands in pockets, his tailored charcoal suit wrinkled like he didn't give a damn. A cigarette dangling from his fingers, unlit. He hadn't approached her once all day. And yet now he moved toward her. Not slow, not fast, just... inevitable.
"Congratulations," he voiced.
His voice was calm, rich, warmer than she expected.
"Thank you," she replied. "And you are?"
"Liam Sinclair. Son of the groom. Disgrace of the dynasty. Haven't you read the tabloids?"
She smiled faintly. "I do not believe everything I read."
"You should," he said, while lighting the cigarette he had placed on the tip of his mouth in a manner that seemed like he was trying to lure her "best believe it they're the only ones telling the truth around here."
Olivia narrowed her eyes. "And what's your truth?"
He looked at her then, really looked and something flickered in his gaze. Not flirtation, not jealousy; warning.
"You've made a beautiful deal with a dangerous man," he said. "I hope you know the terms."
"I can handle him." She responded calmly
Liam laughed once, sharp and short. "That's what my mother said."
The air between them turned electric.
Before she could speak again, an arm slipped around her waist in a smooth and silent manner, it was Alexander. Brushing his lip on her cheek "My dear," he murmured, eyes fixed on Liam, "I see you've met the disappointment."
Liam blew out smoke and stepped back. "You always did know how to pick them."
Alexander's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Some of us don't need to settle for shadows."
"Some of us," Liam said, locking eyes with Olivia, "know exactly what darkness looks like."
And then he walked away, disappearing into the sea of silk and politics.
That night, Olivia stood alone in the master suite. The celebration was over, the marriage legal. Her dress folded into a silk bag and she felt nothing, but the quiet echo of choices made.
Alexander had gone to a business call in - his version of a honeymoon. She poured herself wine and stared at her reflection. The emeralds glittered at her throat. She was beautiful, untouchable and entirely, terrifyingly alone. She turned off the lights and that's when she heard it - a knock. Three soft taps on the balcony; she froze.
Then walked slowly to the French doors, her heart stuttering as she pulled back the curtains.
And there he was, Liam.
Perched on the railing like sin in a tailored suit, his tie loosened, hair tousled, eyes burning like embers.
"How did you?" she whispered.
He leaned closer, voice just above a growl. "You need to know something about my father."
"And you break into bedrooms to share bedtime stories?"
"No," he said. "To stop the next body from falling."
Before she could answer, a scream shattered the silence. A woman somewhere below the estate. The sound of glass shattering, chaos, and footsteps.
Olivia's heart seized.
Liam's voice was cold. "Stay here. Whatever happens, don't trust anyone."
Then he was gone, leaping over the railing like a shadow come alive.
And Olivia, frozen in silk and diamonds, wondered if she'd just married a man or a monster.