Four

[Sophie’s POV]

My hands clenched the contract paper as I gazed at Damien across the room. The air felt heavier than it had been moments ago. I inhaled sharply, gathering my courage. There was no turning back now. If I wanted my revenge, this man—this ex-step-uncle of mine—would be my ticket. But I wasn’t going to let emotions or complications ruin my plans.

“I have three rules,” I started, my voice firm. Damien’s eyes, sharp and assessing, met mine as if daring me to continue.

“Go on,” he said, leaning back casually on the sofa, his posture too relaxed for the intensity in his gaze.

“No emotional attachments. I don’t want us pretending there’s anything real between us. This is purely a business arrangement.” I locked my eyes on his, willing him to see how serious I was.

He smirked. “Fair enough. What’s next?”

“No physical intimacy,” I added, my tone clipped. My cheeks flushed slightly as the words left my lips, but I held my ground. “That means no touching unless it’s absolutely necessary for appearances.”

Damien’s brow lifted, and a flicker of amusement crossed his face. “You make it sound like I’m already planning to seduce you, Sunshine.”

I ignored the nickname, forcing my expression to remain impassive. “Rule three: This ends exactly after a year. No extensions, no loopholes, no complications.”

His smirk widened, but the amusement in his eyes dimmed. He studied me for a long moment before speaking. “I can agree to those terms. I’ll admit, you’re making this easier than I thought it would be.”

“Good,” I said curtly. “Now, I have a question for you.”

“Only one?” he quipped, his smirk returning.

I bit back an eye roll. “Why are you so willing to go along with this? You agreed too quickly.”

Damien leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression growing serious. “I’ve given it some thought in the past,” he admitted. “The rumors about me… they’ve been affecting my business. Most of my partners think I’m gay because I’m still single in my 40s. It’s a lie spread by my competitors, and it’s starting to take a toll. A wife—even if temporary—would silence those whispers and clean up my image.”

My lips parted slightly in surprise. Of all the reasons I’d anticipated, this wasn’t one of them. “So, you’re doing this for appearances?”

“That’s exactly what this is,” he replied smoothly. “And in return, I’ll be helping you too. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, Sophie.”

I nodded slowly, his words settling in my mind. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

He reached for the pen on the coffee table, spinning it between his fingers before offering it to me. “Then sign, and let’s make it official.”

I took the pen from him, the metal cool against my skin. My name flowed onto the contract paper with a steady hand, each stroke of the pen feeling like a declaration of war. As I handed the signed contract back to him, I caught a glimpse of something unreadable in his eyes.

“Your turn,” I said, watching him closely as he took the paper.

Damien’s gaze lingered on me for a moment before he leaned down and signed his name with a flourish. He set the pen down, but instead of handing the paper back, he held onto it, his smirk returning in full force.

“Now,” he said, leaning back with the contract still in his hand, “about those conditions you mentioned…”

I narrowed my eyes. “What about them?”

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent an unexplainable shiver down my spine. “You seem awfully concerned about boundaries for someone who’s just signed a marriage contract. Are you worried you’ll break your own rules?”

I stepped forward, snatching the contract from his hand with a sharp tug. “Worry about yourself, Damien Cavernaugh. I don’t make rules I can’t follow.”

His smirk deepened, and his eyes glittered with something that looked suspiciously like a challenge. “We’ll see about that, Sunshine.”

I turned on my heel, my fingers tightening around the paper. As I walked away, his words echoed in my mind, leaving me with the uneasy feeling that Damien Cavanaugh might be a more formidable opponent than I’d anticipated.

The following day, the sun hung high in the sky as Damien and I stepped out of the courthouse. The marble steps beneath my heels felt unnervingly solid, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. I clutched the edge of my purse, my knuckles white, as I glanced at Damien. His composed expression gave nothing away.

The sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom waited for us at the curb. Damien moved ahead, his stride confident as always, and opened the door with a practiced ease. He gestured for me to enter.

I slid into the seat, the cool leather a momentary distraction from the knot in my stomach. Damien followed, his presence filling the space beside me. As the driver shut the door and moved to his seat, I turned to him.

“Did we really have to do a legal marriage?” I asked, my voice a mix of disbelief and resignation.

Damien met my gaze, his expression calm but firm. “Yes. The marriage certificate was necessary. It keeps things clean and formal, avoids any unnecessary suspicions.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Suspicion of what, exactly?”

He smirked, the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes. “Of the truth, Sunshine.”

I looked out of the window, unsure whether to scoff or smile. The weight of his words settled over me as the car began to move.

“Now, you’re Mrs. Sophie Cavanaugh,” he said suddenly, his tone lighter. When I glanced back at him, he winked.

I couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped me, though it was tinged with disbelief. “That’s a name I never thought I’d wear.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Damien said with a confident shrug.

I turned my gaze back out the window, watching the world blur past. There was no turning back now.

Later That Day

The soft buzz of my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen: Damien Cavanaugh.

“What now?” I murmured before answering. “Hello?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” his smooth voice teased through the receiver. “I’m coming to pick you up in an hour. There’s a family charity gala tonight, and I expect you to look your best.”

I blinked, momentarily thrown. “A gala? Damien, I’m not exactly—”

“No arguments,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “This is part of the deal. And remember, appearances matter. I’ll see you in an hour.”

The line went dead before I could protest. I stared at my phone, conflicted. Part of me wanted to refuse outright, but I knew better. Wounds were best treated when fresh, and this gala could be the perfect stage to start reclaiming my power.

I moved quickly, selecting a deep emerald gown that hugged my figure and accentuated my shoulders. By the time Damien’s car pulled up outside the mansion, I was ready.

When I stepped out, his eyes widened slightly, though he quickly masked the reaction with his usual smirk. “So, this is the great Algernon Mansion,” he said, his tone dry as he looked up at the towering structure.

I tilted my head. “What do you mean by that?”

He shook his head, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “Nothing. Let’s go.” He gestured to the car door, and I stepped inside.

As the car began moving, he glanced at me. “You look… stunning,” he said simply, though the sincerity in his tone made my cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” I replied softly, avoiding his gaze.

The gala venue was grand, bustling with elegantly dressed people and glittering chandeliers. As we arrived, Damien’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening slightly.

“I need to take this,” he said, stepping aside. “I’ll find you in a moment.”

I nodded, stepping further into the room, the hum of conversation washing over me. I was adjusting the strap of my gown when a voice froze me in place.

“Sophie?”

I turned slowly, my heart skipping a beat. There he was—Aaron, his eyes widening as they took me in.

For a moment, I saw disbelief flash across his face. Then it twisted into something cruel. “Wow,” he sneered. “I almost didn’t recognize you, all dressed up. I see you’ve wasted no time throwing yourself at a rich man.”

I blinked, keeping my expression neutral. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

His eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Jeana appeared at his side, her arm sliding possessively around his.

Aaron’s smirk widened. “Less than 48 hours since we broke up, and you’re already squeezing your way into the upper class? Pathetic.”

“She's so pathetic," Jeana added.

“I guess that's why the new man she found took her," he sneered.

The words hit like a slap, but before I could respond, a hand shot out and struck Aaron square across the face.

Aaron staggered, his eyes wide with shock. “Uncle Damien?”

I turned sharply, my breath catching as Damien stood there, his jaw tight, his hand still raised.

“Watch your mouth when you talk to my woman,” Damien said coldly, his voice low and dangerous.