One week into my marriage, Damien decided it was time.
We were hosting a charity gala at the Blackwood Estate—an invitation-only event for the city's most powerful and wealthy. Three hundred people, all connected, all watching, all ready to spread gossip like wildfire.
It was the perfect place to make an announcement.
"You look stunning," Maya said, fastening the diamond bracelet around my wrist. "That dress is absolutely killer."
The dress was a custom Valentino gown in emerald green—a color that brought out my eyes and made me look like I'd been born to money and power. Designer shoes. Jewels that belonged in a museum. Hair and makeup done by professionals.
I looked like Mrs. Damien Blackwood.
I barely recognized myself.
"I'm nervous," I admitted, touching my stomach where my baby was growing. "Is it wrong to be using my pregnancy as a weapon?"
Maya met my eyes in the mirror. "Your baby is part of you, not a weapon. And honestly? Those people downstairs deserve whatever comes to them. Your family, Ethan, all of them—they chose cruelty. You're just choosing power."
She had a point.
Damien knocked on the connecting door between our suites. He looked devastating in a black tuxedo, his dark hair perfectly styled, his presence commanding. He'd fit into this world of wealth and privilege as if he'd been born to it.
Which, I supposed, he had.
"Ready?" he asked, extending his hand.
I took it, feeling the warmth of his skin, the strength in his grip. A small gesture, but after so long feeling powerless, it meant everything.
"No," I said honestly. "But let's do it anyway."
The gala was already in full swing when we arrived. Champagne flowed, conversation hummed, and every eye turned toward us as we descended the grand staircase.
Damien kept me close, his hand on the small of my back, playing the perfect devoted husband. We worked the room, accepting congratulations on our marriage, fielding questions about our "whirlwind romance," and building anticipation for whatever announcement was clearly coming.
I spotted my parents across the room. My mother's face went pale when she saw me. My father's jaw clenched. Beside them stood Victoria, looking absolutely furious, her designer dress suddenly seeming cheap in comparison to mine.
And then I saw him.
Ethan was standing near the bar, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Pain. Regret. Longing.
Good.
Around nine, Damien led me to the center of the grand ballroom where a microphone and small podium had been set up. The crowd gradually quieted, sensing that something significant was about to happen.
"Thank you all for coming," Damien said, his voice commanding the room effortlessly. "My wife and I have an announcement that we're thrilled to share."
My wife. The words sent a flutter through my chest that had nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with the way he said it—like he actually meant it.
He took my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing my knuckles while keeping his eyes on the crowd. A gesture of ownership. Of devotion. Of absolute certainty.
"We're expecting our first child," he announced. "A little Blackwood will be joining us in approximately eight months."
The room erupted in applause and congratulations. I saw my mother's face go from pale to green. My father looked like he was having a stroke. Victoria's expression twisted with something I could only describe as pure envy.
And Ethan—Ethan looked like his entire world had just collapsed.
Which it had.
Because now the world believed that the baby I was carrying was Damien's. That Ethan had been replaced not just romantically, but biologically. Not only had I married a more powerful man, but I was carrying his child.
The humiliation was complete.
After the announcement, people rushed to congratulate us, eager to discuss wedding plans and nurseries and all the trappings of new parenthood. Damien fielded the questions smoothly while I smiled and accepted their well-wishes, playing the part of a glowing bride-to-be discovering she was pregnant.
Then Ethan appeared.
He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. His usually pristine appearance was disheveled, his eyes haunted. When he approached, Damien's hand on my back stiffened, but he didn't interrupt.
"Sophia, can we talk?" Ethan asked, desperation clear in his voice. "Privately?"
"Anything you want to say to my wife, you can say in front of me," Damien said coldly.
"This isn't your business, Blackwood," Ethan snapped.
"Actually, it is. Everything that involves Sophia is my business." Damien pulled me closer, his possessiveness unmistakable. "Now, what did you want to say to her?"
Ethan's hands clenched into fists. "I made a mistake, Sophia. A terrible mistake. Victoria lied to me. She's not dying—she's never been dying. The whole thing was a manipulation to get me away from you."
I already knew this, but hearing him admit it aloud was deeply satisfying. "So you finally figured it out?"
"I should have trusted you," he said desperately. "You tried to tell me. I was blind and stupid and—" He reached for my hand. "Please, we can fix this. We can—"
"Fix what, exactly?" I pulled my hand away. "Our engagement that you shattered the day before the wedding? Our relationship that was apparently so fragile it couldn't survive one test?"
"I was confused," he protested. "Victoria made it sound like—"
"Like it was a charity case?" I stepped closer, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Let me explain something, Ethan. You didn't hurt me because you were confused. You hurt me because you never really valued me. You valued the idea of me—the girl working two jobs to support your dreams, the girl who made you feel generous and noble. But the real me? You never saw her. You never wanted her."
His face crumpled. "That's not true. I loved you."
"No, you didn't." The words were ice. "If you had, you would have fought for me. You would have questioned Victoria's story instead of believing it instantly. You would have thought about me for even one second before throwing away everything we had."
Behind me, Damien's hand stroked my back—approval, support, ownership.
"I'm married now," I continued. "To a man who values me. A man who fights for me. A man who would never question whether I'm worth fighting for." I held up my left hand, letting the wedding ring catch the light. "So whatever you're offering, Ethan, I don't want it. I don't want you. That chapter of my life is closed."
"Sophia—"
"Goodbye, Ethan."
I turned away from him before he could respond, leaning into Damien's embrace. He led me back into the crowd without looking back, but I could feel Ethan's stare burning into my spine.
Later, as the party wound down, I found myself on the terrace overlooking the gardens. The night air was cool, the city lights spread below like diamonds.
"That was impressive," Damien said, appearing beside me with two glasses of champagne. "The way you handled him."
"I meant every word," I said, accepting a glass. "I don't want him. I don't want anything from my old life."
"That's good." He stood close, not quite touching. "Because tonight, you became something much more important than his ex-fiancée. You became my wife. The mother of my child—" he paused, correcting himself slightly, "—our child. And a member of the Blackwood family."
"Is this still part of the act?" I asked quietly, not looking at him.
"I don't know anymore," he admitted. "That's the problem."
I turned to face him. In the moonlight, his face was shadowed but intense. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I married you as a tool for revenge," he said bluntly. "I meant to use you to destroy your father. But somewhere in the last week, you've stopped being a tool and started being..." He trailed off, frustrated. "I don't know what you are now, Sophia. But I know I don't want this to end when the contract says it should."
My heart was suddenly racing. "Damien—"
"I know," he cut me off. "It's complicated. The baby isn't mine. This was supposed to be business. But I'm telling you anyway because you deserve honesty, and I'm tired of lying about this."
He stepped closer, and suddenly we were inches apart. His hand came up to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. "When Ethan touched you, I wanted to break his hand. That's not business, Sophia. That's something else entirely."
"What are you saying?" I whispered.
"I'm saying that I want this to be real," he said. "Not the marriage itself—that can stay as it is, a contract, a tool. But us. I want you to want me the way I'm starting to want you."
Before I could respond, Victoria's voice cut through the night.
"Well, well, well. Look who's finally getting comfortable in her fake little life."
We turned to find her standing in the doorway to the terrace, her dress wrinkled, her makeup smudged, her hair disheveled. She looked like she'd been crying—or drinking. Possibly both.
"Victoria," I said coldly. "Shouldn't you be home? Dying?"
"Very funny," she spat. "You think you're so clever now, don't you? Married to the great Damien Blackwood, pregnant with his child, playing house in this mansion. But it's all a lie, Sophia. Everyone knows it."
"Do they?" I moved away from Damien slightly, curious to see where this was going.
"That baby isn't his," Victoria hissed. "It's Ethan's. And eventually, everyone's going to know that. And then they'll know that you seduced Damien into marriage as some kind of revenge plot. You're going to lose everything."
Damien stepped forward, his voice deadly calm. "You need to leave, Victoria."
"Or what?" she challenged. "You'll throw me out? Everyone already knows what you are. You're a predator who preys on vulnerable girls. My parents are thinking about suing you for—"
"For what?" Damien's voice was ice. "Being married to Sophia? Having consensual relations with my wife? Your lawyer won't have a case."
"We'll see about that," Victoria snarled, but there was no confidence in her voice. She turned back to me, desperation in her eyes. "You did this on purpose. You stole Ethan, then stole Damien, and now you're trying to destroy everyone I love."
"No," I said quietly. "I'm just reclaiming what you took from me. Ethan chose you. My family chose you. But now I'm choosing myself. And if that destroys you, then maybe you shouldn't have spent so much energy destroying me."
Victoria's face crumpled, and for a moment, she looked like the scared girl she might have been underneath all her manipulation.
"You're a monster," she whispered.
Then she turned and fled, disappearing back into the house.
I stood there, trembling slightly. Damien pulled me into his arms, and I let myself rest against him for a moment.
"Is it over?" I asked.
"With Victoria? Probably not yet." He stroked my hair. "But with Ethan? Yes. He knows now that he lost you forever."
I thought about Ethan's desperate face. Victoria's tears. My parents' shock at the announcement.
The revenge was just beginning. But tonight, I'd made my first real power move.
And it felt absolutely incredible.
---
Later, as I lay in my bed, I heard the connecting door open. Damien stood there, silhouetted against the light from his suite.
"The offer still stands," he said quietly. "If you want something more than this arrangement."
I sat up, the silk sheets pooling around me. "And if I say yes?"
"Then we figure out what this is," he said. "Together."
For the first time since all of this started, I thought about saying yes to something that wasn't about revenge or strategy.
But old habits died hard.
"Not yet," I said finally. "Let me destroy my family first. Then we can talk about what comes after."
He nodded, as if he expected that answer. "Fair enough."
He turned to leave, and then I called out to him.
"Damien?"
He paused in the doorway.
"Thank you. For everything."
His smile was slow and dangerous. "The night's still young, Sophia. Thank me after we burn it all down."