You never imagined the man who would become your fiancé would be the very assassin who erased the man you were supposed to marry.

You were the stepdaughter of a man who owned half the city. Kept, not cherished. Your stepmother hated you. Your stepsister despised you.

You were a reminder of the woman your father loved, the woman who died bringing you into this world. You never wanted to be his heir. Never wanted the blood, the weight, the power. Yet tonight, you were exactly that.

Dressed in a red gown, gold lining tracing every curve of your body like a warning, you attended the event your father had dragged you to, the night you would meet your new fiancé.

A man who owned the other half of the city. A man your father needed an alliance with to survive.

He was your second.

The first had died at his hands.

Your former fiancé had been his enemy, and he had demanded payment. If your father wanted the rivalry to end, if he wanted peace… his heir would marry him. And with no escape left, you were here.

His mansion gleamed like a palace, beautiful and dangerous, every corridor whispering violence. As you walked inside, gazes followed, men and women from the elite and the underworld alike. Some admired. Some envied. Some stripped you bare with their eyes.

“Heads up,” your father muttered. “Time to meet him. And please my dear, behave. We need this to work.”

Dread settled deep in your chest as his name was announced.

Darien Mancini.

You were about to hide when a shove from behind sent you stumbling forward, Levanette, your step sister's hand sharp with jealousy. You crashed into something warm, firm. A hand steadied you instantly.

“Careful,” a low voice murmured. “I wouldn’t want my future wife hurt.”

You froze, that voice felt familiar. You turned around, looked up and gasped.

He stood over you in a dark suit that hugged his broad 6’2 frame, blue eyes cold and knowing. You had met him before. On a train. Men chasing him. Blood and chaos following in his wake.

He had barged into your cabin that day and to save himself, he forced you onto his lap, made you straddle him while whispering instructions against your lips, had you fake moaning to sell the lie.

You had wanted to kill him. He fled instead, smiling, promising he would find you again.

And now he was here.

It hit you all at once.

He planned this. He wanted you. So he erased your previous fiancé, cornered your father, and dragged you into an impossible choice.

Before you could speak, your stepsister’s shrill voice sliced through the tension. “Daddyyy, look at her. This country bumpkin keeps causing problems. I told you I should be the one marrying him.”

You bristled, heat rushing to your face, but before you could defend yourself, Darien stepped forward.

One brutal kick sent her crashing to the floor in front of everyone.

“My future wife is allowed to do as she pleases,” he said calmly. “Touch her again, and I’ll make sure that filthy attitude of yours disappears I wouldn't marry you if you were the last woman earth had to offer.”

Your father yanked Levanette up roughly, shaking. “I’m sorry. I’ll deal with her. I won’t let her cause problems.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll leave you two.”

Panic flared with you. You wanted to scream. To run.

But his hand slid around your neck, firm and claiming, and he dragged you into his secluded garden thick with roses and moonlight.

“Shh,” he whispered against your ear, breath hot. “Don’t try to escape this. Since the first time I met you, I’ve dreamed of you. Moaned your name. Thought about owning you.”

Your cheeks burned as his grip tightened just enough to remind you who held the power.

“You’ll be my wife,” he murmured. “I will be loyal. If you don’t want your family punished… you’ll stand beside me.”

You were trapped.

Not by obligation alone, but by a man who had turned obsession into fate, and decided you belonged to him forever.