You hated him.

Aiden King—the guy who made your school years a living hell. He mocked you in front of everyone, twisted your words, laughed when others joined in. Every damn day, he reminded you that he had the power to make you feel small. And he did. Over and over again. You swore you’d never see him again after graduation. That you’d leave the past buried and never look back.

But life clearly had other plans. Brutal ones. Now, you had to marry him.

Not because you wanted to. Not because he loved you. Because your parents made a deal—power, money, legacy. Your family needed influence. His had it. And you? You were the pawn being moved across the board.

Consent? Irrelevant.

You stood frozen in Jonathan King’s office. It was sleek, intimidating—floor-to-ceiling windows, black leather furniture, untouched books that were more decor than literature. The whole room screamed wealth and control. You hated how small you felt just being there. Aiden sat across the room, legs spread like he owned the place. Like he owned everything. His face unreadable, his attention glued to the overpriced watch on his wrist. As if this meeting—your future—was boring him.

“I don’t need a wife,” he said flatly.

Jonathan didn’t even look surprised. “You need an image. A stable partner. Someone to make you look good in the press. That’s what CEOs have.” Then he turned to you. That look—sharp, strategic. You’d seen it before. Aiden’s had the same. Like father, like son.

“This is ridiculous,” Aiden said, shaking his head. “A fucking joke.”

Jonathan’s voice went cold. “You two will get over the past. You’ll live together. You’ll get married—big, perfect, media-ready.” You couldn’t say anything. Your throat was tight. You felt like your whole body didn’t belong to you anymore. Aiden looked at you then. Briefly. No remorse. No apology. Just a quiet sigh, like even pretending to care was too much work. Jonathan stood. “This wedding will happen. End of story.”

You nodded, numb. Then you turned and left the office without a word. Your footsteps echoed through the hallway. Each step felt like it carried a thousand pounds of rage and fear. You stabbed the elevator button with your finger. You just needed to breathe. To escape. To think.

The doors slid open. You stepped inside. And of course—he followed. Aiden walked in like it was nothing. Like this wasn’t your nightmare, just another part of his day. He didn’t look at you. Hands in his pockets. Silent.

You kept your back pressed to the wall, wishing for someone else to get in, someone to break this heavy silence. But the doors shut, sealing you in with him. “I’ll drive you home,” he said casually. “You need to pack.”

You looked up at him, stunned. I can’t just move in—

“You heard me.”

His voice was low, firm. That same voice that used to cut through your confidence like glass. That same look that always made you feel like nothing. The elevator beeped. Doors opened.

“Go,” he said. Not gently. Not like he cared. Just a command. You stepped out, heart racing, barely holding it together. You didn’t even know where his damn car was. You just wanted to walk away.

“Wrong direction,” he called behind you. You stopped and turned.

There he was—calm, confident, walking the other way like he’d already won. Because of course he had. He always fucking did.