The pouring rain echoed against the limousine's rooftop as Ava Whitmore stared out the tinted window, her heart pounding louder than the thunder outside. She clutched her purse tightly, her knuckles white as she mentally repeated the words she'd signed just hours earlier.
A marriage contract.
To a man she had never met.
All to save her dying mother.
"Miss Whitmore," the driver's voice broke through her thoughts, "we've arrived."
Ava took a deep breath, straightened her navy blue dress, and stepped out. Before her loomed the iron gates of the Devereux estate—more castle than home, the kind of place built for secrets and power. Just like the man she was now bound to.
Damien Devereux.
Billionaire. Reclusive. Feared.
He wasn't just a name in the tabloids. He was a force whispered about in financial circles and spoken of with awe—or dread. And now, Ava was going to be his wife.
Inside, the grand hall was cold despite its elegance. Marble floors, chandeliers, and an air of silence that seemed rehearsed. A butler led her to a study, where Damien waited.
Her thoughts drifted to her mother's frail smile, the beeping machines, the fear in her eyes. Ava would walk through fire to save her. Even marry the devil himself.
A knock at her door startled her.
She opened it to find Damien standing there, his tie loosened, his hair slightly tousled. Still intimidating. Still untouchable.
"I don't like surprises," he said.
"Then you're in the wrong story," she replied.
His eyes searched hers, something unreadable flashing through them. Then, he turned and walked away, leaving Ava more confused than ever.
What had she gotten herself into?