The rain pounded relentlessly against the tinted windows of the limousine, drowning out the chaos inside Elena Hayes's chest. Her hands twisted in her lap, fingers trembling despite her attempt to hold herself together. She had lost track of how long she had been sitting in silence, the city lights flashing past as the car moved steadily toward the heart of Blackwood Tower — the empire of the man she was being forced to marry.
Her mother sat beside her, pale and tight-lipped, avoiding her gaze. Across from them, her younger brother's face was buried in his hands, guilt written in every line of his expression.
Elena swallowed hard. "There has to be another way," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the steady patter of rain.
Her mother's head snapped toward her, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "There isn't, Elena. Damian Blackwood is the only man who can save us now. You know what your father did… you know what's at stake."
Her father. The name alone made her chest ache with betrayal and disappointment. Once a respected businessman, he had gambled away everything on bad investments, driven by greed and desperation. Now their company was crumbling, their home on the verge of being seized, and their name dragged through the mud.
And then Damian Blackwood had appeared — like a devil offering salvation in exchange for her soul.
"Marry me," he had told her the night before, his voice smooth, commanding, utterly cold. "In return, I'll clear every debt your family owes. Refuse, and you'll watch them lose everything."
There had been no hesitation in his tone, no flicker of kindness or mercy. Just power. Absolute and unyielding.
Elena's jaw tightened as the limousine rolled to a stop in front of a gleaming tower of glass and steel. Blackwood Tower pierced the sky like a blade, its very presence dominating the city skyline. People walking along the rain-slicked sidewalks glanced up, their faces shadowed with a mixture of awe and fear.
The door opened, and a uniformed driver extended a gloved hand. Elena ignored it, stepping out on her own, the sharp click of her heels against the marble pavement echoing like a drumbeat of inevitability. The storm above mirrored the storm inside her.
She drew in a steadying breath, lifting her chin as she gazed up at the towering building. Damian Blackwood was waiting at the top, and tonight, she would sell herself to the devil.
The elevator ride was suffocating. Elena stood rigid, her reflection staring back at her in the mirrored walls. Her silk blouse clung damply to her skin, and her black skirt suddenly felt too tight. The numbers blinked higher, one after another, until finally, the elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime.
The office was exactly as she had imagined — vast, immaculate, and intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the storm outside, the city lights glowing faintly through the rain. Polished black marble stretched across the floor, interrupted only by sleek, modern furniture. It was a room designed to display power.
And at the center of it stood Damian Blackwood.
He was taller than she remembered, his presence filling the room before he even spoke. A perfectly tailored black suit hugged his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt beneath unbuttoned just enough to hint at the strength hidden beneath. His dark hair was slicked back neatly, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.
But it was his eyes that made her breath catch — cold, stormy gray, unreadable yet piercing, as though they saw straight through her skin and into her bones.
"Miss Hayes," he said smoothly, his voice deep and commanding. "Right on time."
Her stomach twisted. She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Let's get this over with."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Straight to business. I like that."
He gestured toward a long mahogany table where a stack of papers lay neatly arranged. Elena's heels clicked against the marble as she approached, each step echoing louder than the last. She sat, her back straight, though her pulse thundered in her ears.
Damian remained standing, watching her like a predator circling prey. "You understand the terms of our agreement?"
Elena's hands clenched in her lap. "Marriage. For one year. You clear my family's debts, and in return, I play the role of your wife."
"Correct," he said coolly, sliding into the chair across from her. He picked up a pen, twirling it effortlessly between his fingers. "There are conditions. You will attend events as my wife. You will live in my home. You will smile when I tell you to. Beyond that, I expect silence and obedience. Do we have a problem?"
Her cheeks flamed. "You expect me to be your puppet?"
His smirk deepened. "No, Miss Hayes. I expect you to be my wife. On paper. Nothing more, nothing less."
Her chest tightened. "And if I refuse?"
Damian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The storm outside illuminated his face in flashes of lightning, sharpening his features into something almost inhuman. "Then your family loses everything. Their company, their home, their reputation. I don't make empty threats."
For a moment, silence hung between them, thick and suffocating. Elena's throat burned as she fought the urge to cry. She couldn't. Not here. Not in front of him.
With trembling fingers, she reached for the pen. "Fine," she whispered. "I'll do it."
His gray eyes flickered with something she couldn't read. Satisfaction? Triumph? Amusement? Whatever it was, it unsettled her.
He pushed the papers toward her. "Sign."
Her hand hovered over the dotted line, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She thought of her family, of her brother's guilt-ridden face, her mother's tears. She thought of the home she grew up in, the memories tied to it, the life that would vanish if she refused.
And then she signed.
The final stroke of ink sealed her fate.
Damian leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood. You've just married the devil."
The words echoed in her skull long after she had left his office.
The contract was signed. The deal was done. And Elena Hayes was no longer her own.
But as she stood once more in the rain, the storm lashing against her face, she made herself a silent promise.
I may have married the devil, but I won't let him break me.