Dominic Vale was a man born into power. Heir to an empire built long before him, his name carried weight that made the world bow. Money. Fame. Authority. It was all his birthright. And he wore it like a crown.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark eyes that gave nothing and promised everything, he was the kind of man who could have anyone, anything, without ever asking twice. To the world, Dominic was untouchable. To her, he had been a dream.

For three years, he had played the part. The gifts, the romance, the devotion—it was flawless. He gave her everything she thought love should be, until she was certain she had captured the heart of the most impossible man alive. But she hadn’t captured him. He had captured her. Every move, every smile, every touch had been a step in the plan he’d written years before.

Because Dominic hadn’t fallen in love. Dominic had been hunting.

Her father had killed his. Hidden the truth under power and lies. But secrets don’t stay buried. When Dominic discovered it, he swore revenge—not with bullets, not with prison, but with ruin. To break the man’s pride, he would break his daughter.

So he courted her. So she believed. So she said yes.

And now—under vaulted ceilings and glittering chandeliers, before hundreds of watching eyes—their vows were complete. The priest’s words faded, and silence filled the hall, waiting for the kiss.

Dominic did not kiss her.

He looked at her, let the silence stretch until it cut, and then he spoke. His voice was low, controlled, but heavy with venom.

“You think this is the moment your life begins,” he said. “You think I chose you. That I gave you my heart. But I never gave you anything. You were nothing but a means to an end. A pawn dressed in white.”

The room stilled. His gaze hardened.

“My vow is not to love you. My vow is to watch you fall. To strip you bare of everything you think you are. To make you bleed the way your father made me bleed. He took my father’s life, and now I take his by taking yours—piece by piece, until there is nothing left of you but ash and regret.”

The words hung, sharp and merciless. And then Dominic turned, without hesitation, and took another woman into his arms.

Her stepsister.

The one she despised most.

And he kissed her—slow, deliberate, claiming her in front of everyone.

On Dominic’s side of the aisle, there were smirks, nods, quiet applause—they knew. They had always known. On hers, silence fell like a shroud, the shock absolute.

The bride stood in her white dress, untouched. And Dominic Vale’s revenge had only just begun.