Damien Blackwood didn't waste time.
Within an hour of my accepting his card, I found myself in the back of a luxury car that probably cost more than the entire apartment building I was leaving behind. Maya had insisted on coming with me, her hand gripping mine like a lifeline as we drove through the city toward the Blackwood Tower—a gleaming skyscraper that dominated the downtown skyline.
"You don't have to do this," Maya whispered for the tenth time. "We can figure something else out. Get a lawyer, fight for your trust fund—"
"With what money?" I asked quietly, watching the city blur past the tinted windows. "They've frozen everything. I have three hundred dollars to my name and a baby on the way." My hand unconsciously moved to my stomach. "I don't have time to fight legal battles I can't afford."
"But you don't know anything about this man," Maya pressed. "What if he's dangerous? What if—"
"Then he's dangerous." I turned to look at her, and I barely recognized the coldness in my own voice. "Right now, I need dangerous. I need powerful. I need someone who can help me take back everything they stole from me."
The car pulled into an underground garage, and moments later, we were being escorted into a private elevator by a woman in an immaculate suit who introduced herself as Damien's assistant, Claire.
"Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you in his office," Claire said, her smile professional and distant. "Your friend can wait in the lounge area."
"I'm not leaving her alone with him," Maya said firmly.
Claire's expression didn't change. "Mr. Blackwood's meetings are private. But I assure you, Ms. Hart will be perfectly safe."
I squeezed Maya's hand. "It's okay. Wait for me. If I'm not out in an hour, call the police."
Maya looked like she wanted to argue, but she nodded reluctantly. "One hour. I'm timing it."
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like ascending to another world. When the doors opened, I stepped into an office that screamed power and wealth. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city. Expensive art hung on the walls. And behind a massive desk sat Damien Blackwood, watching me with those dark, calculating eyes.
"Ms. Hart," he said, standing. "Please, sit."
I sat in one of the leather chairs across from his desk, trying not to show how intimidated I felt. This man controlled an empire that made even my family's fortune look modest. What did he want with me?
"Let's not waste time on pleasantries," Damien said, leaning back in his chair. "I know who you really are. Sophia Hart, biological daughter of Richard and Margaret Hart, heiress to a fortune worth approximately eight billion dollars. You've been pretending to be poor for six years, hiding your identity to test your fiancé's love." His lips curved. "How did that work out for you?"
The words stung, but I kept my face neutral. "You've done your homework."
"I always do." He pulled out a tablet and slid it across the desk to me. "This is Victoria Chen's medical history. Or rather, her lack of one. No cancer diagnosis. No treatment records. Nothing. She's been lying."
My heart pounded as I scrolled through the documents. There it was, in black and white—proof that Victoria had faked everything. "How did you get these?"
"I have resources your family can only dream of," Damien said simply. "And I'm offering them to you. But first, I need to know—are you serious about revenge? Or are you going to lose your nerve when things get difficult?"
"I'm serious." The words came out steady, certain. "They threw me away like garbage. My own parents chose her over me. The man I loved—" My voice caught, but I forced myself to continue. "He believed her lies without question. They all did. So yes, I'm serious."
Damien studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. Because what I'm proposing isn't going to be easy. It's going to require you to be ruthless, calculating, and absolutely committed. Can you do that?"
"Tell me what you need me to do."
He stood and walked to the windows, hands in his pockets, silhouetted against the city lights. "Your grandmother left you a separate trust fund, didn't she? One that your parents can't actually touch because it was set up independently?"
I blinked. "How did you—yes. But I was told I can't access it until I'm thirty or married."
"Marriage," Damien said, turning to face me. "That's the key. Once you're married, the trust fund releases. Twenty million dollars, completely separate from your family's control."
My mouth went dry. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting we get married."
The words hung in the air between us like a bomb waiting to explode.
"You're insane," I whispered.
"Am I?" He walked back to his desk, his movements controlled and predatory. "Think about it logically. You need money and power to fight your family. I can provide both, but only if we're legally connected. A marriage gives us both advantages."
"What advantages could you possibly need from marrying me?" I demanded. "You're already one of the richest men in the country!"
For the first time, something flickered in his expression—something dark and personal. "Let's just say your family has something I want. Business connections, political influence, access to certain... opportunities. As your husband, I gain leverage over the Hart Empire. And you—" he leaned forward, his eyes intense, "—you gain everything. Your inheritance, my resources, my protection, and most importantly, legitimacy. You won't be the pathetic ex-fiancée anymore. You'll be Mrs. Blackwood."
My head was spinning. "This is crazy. We don't even know each other."
"We don't need to know each other. This is a business arrangement, nothing more." He pulled out a document. "A contract marriage. Two years minimum. In that time, we take down everyone who wronged you, secure your position as the Hart heiress, and ruin Victoria and Ethan's happy ending. After two years, we divorce quietly, and you keep the money and power you've gained."
"And what do you get out of it?"
His smile was cold. "Revenge of my own. Your father destroyed someone I cared about years ago. I've been waiting for the right moment to return the favor. You're that moment, Sophia."
I stared at the contract in front of me. This was insane. Marrying a stranger for revenge? It sounded like something out of a movie.
But then I thought about my mother's slap. My father's cold dismissal. Victoria's triumphant smile as she stole my life. Ethan's pitying eyes as he chose her over me.
I thought about my baby, growing inside me, who deserved better than a mother with nothing.
"If I agree," I said slowly, "I have conditions."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"First, this stays purely business. No... expectations beyond what's necessary for appearances."
"Agreed."
"Second, I want full transparency. If you're using me to take down my family, I deserve to know the whole plan."
"Reasonable."
"Third—" I took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant. With Ethan's baby. If you can't handle that, tell me now."
Damien's expression didn't change. "Is he aware?"
"No. And I don't plan to tell him. This baby is mine, no one else's."
"Then as far as the world will know, the child is mine." His voice was matter-of-fact. "It actually works better for the narrative. Poor Sophia, betrayed and pregnant, rescued by the powerful Damien Blackwood. It'll make them look even worse."
The casual way he said it should have bothered me. Instead, I felt a strange sense of relief. He was treating this like a business deal, nothing more. No messy emotions. No false promises.
Just cold, calculated revenge.
"One more thing," I said. "When this is over, I want full custody of my child. No complications."
"You'll have it in writing." He slid the contract toward me along with a pen. "So, Ms. Hart. Do we have a deal?"
I looked down at the contract. This was it. The point of no return. Once I signed this, there was no going back to the girl I used to be—the one who believed in love and happy endings.
But that girl was already dead.
She'd died the moment Ethan walked out the door. The moment her mother slapped her. The moment her family chose Victoria over her.
What rose from her ashes was something new. Something harder.
Something that wanted blood.
I picked up the pen.
"When's the wedding?" I asked.
Damien's smile was sharp and satisfied. "Tomorrow. We don't waste time in the Blackwood family. By this time tomorrow, you'll be my wife. And your family—" he paused, his eyes glittering with dark promise, "—they won't know what hit them."
I signed my name on the contract, each stroke of the pen feeling like a declaration of war.
Sophia Hart was dead.
Long live Sophia Blackwood.
"One question," I said as I set down the pen. "Why me? Really. You could have found a dozen other ways to get revenge on my father."
Damien took the signed contract, examining it before looking back at me. "Because, Sophia, you're the only person in the world who hates them as much as I do. And that kind of hatred—" his smile turned predatory, "—that's the most powerful weapon of all."
He stood and extended his hand. "Welcome to the war, Mrs. Blackwood."
I shook his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin, the strength in his grip.
And for the first time since Ethan had destroyed my world, I felt something other than pain.
I felt power.
Outside the office, Maya was pacing frantically. When she saw me emerge, she rushed over. "Are you okay? What happened? What did he want?"
I looked at my best friend, the only person who'd stood by me through everything, and smiled.
"He wants to marry me," I said. "And I said yes."
Maya's eyes went wide. "You what?!"
"Tomorrow, Maya. Tomorrow I'm getting married." I linked my arm through hers as we walked toward the elevator. "And then we're going to burn their perfect little world to the ground."
Behind us, through the glass walls of his office, I could see Damien on the phone, already setting things in motion.
The war had begun.
And this time, I wasn't going to lose.