CHAPTER NINE: HER PLAN HAS BEGUN

The dawn light spilled into the room, casting a harsh glow over the disheveled bed where Natasha lay, her body tense with anger and disgust. Mr. Hargrove's deep snores filled the space beside her, his arm draped possessively across her waist. The weight of it repulsed her, a reminder of the chains that now bound her to this man.

How did it come to this? she thought bitterly, her eyes fixated on the ceiling, counting every breath in a futile attempt to keep her fury at bay. But the rage gnawed at her insides, relentless, turning over every humiliation from the night before.

Ethan Blackwood.

Leah.

Her father.

Each name burned in her mind. Her pulse quickened, matching the pace of her thoughts. They will all pay.

She slid out from under Hargrove's arm as silently as possible, careful not to wake him. His scent, a pungent mix of alcohol and expensive cologne, clung to her skin, making her stomach turn. Natasha glanced back at him, her lip curling. He wasn't a husband; he was her punishment.

Grabbing her robe from the floor, she tied it around her waist, her movements brisk. The cold marble of the floor chilled her feet as she crossed the room, throwing open the balcony doors. The crisp morning air did little to soothe her rising anger.

Her fingers tightened on the balcony railing as she stared out over the Sterling estate, her father had managed to convince Mr Hargrove to stay over last night, in fear of what he might do to her when nobody is around, it was no news of how violent he was, that is the reason he was married five times already three died for unknown reasons as their death where covered up by his influence while his other two wife's managed to get away from his hands .

But him staying at the Sterling estate did not mean he did not use her body over and over again like a toy, although she was not a virgin to begin with, but she had never experience any sexual encounter as painful as that .

Her vision blurring with memories of the night before. She had been groomed for this-for power, for wealth, for status. Not for some low-level consolation prize like Hargrove. Leah had stolen her future, just as Ethan had stolen her bridegroom. But I will take everything from them. Slowly. Carefully.

A quiet knock on the door pulled Natasha from her thoughts. She turned sharply, her robe billowing around her legs. Vivian entered, her face pale and drawn, dark circles beneath her eyes betraying a sleepless night.

"Natasha," Vivian whispered, glancing nervously toward the still-sleeping Hargrove. "You should come downstairs. Your father wants to discuss the next steps."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "The next steps?" She stepped forward, her voice a low hiss. "What steps, Mother? I've been sold like cattle. My next step should be planning their destruction."

Vivian flinched, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Your father-"

"My father gave me away," Natasha snapped, cutting her off. "He didn't think twice before handing me over to that man." She jabbed a finger toward the bed, where Hargrove continued his oblivious slumber. "What's left to discuss? He's already ruined me."

Vivian's expression crumbled, her eyes welling with tears. "Natasha, we had no choice. It was either you or the complete ruin of this family. Do you think I wanted this for you?"

"Then you should have fought harder!" Natasha spat. "I am not Leah. I won't sit quietly and let everyone walk over me. If Father won't act, I will. Ethan Blackwood thinks he can steal what belongs to me and walk away? He'll regret that."

Vivian's lips trembled, but she nodded, recognizing the resolve in Natasha's voice. "What will you do?"

"Watch and see."

---

Ethan's Penthouse

Leah Sterling sat at the edge of the king-sized bed, her fingers gripping the soft silk sheets as she stared out into the unfamiliar expanse of Ethan's bedroom. The night had passed in a blur of anger, confusion, and forced silence. Now, in the cold light of day, reality set in.

She wasn't in her childhood home anymore. She was in his world.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Leah tensed, instinctively pulling the sheet closer around her. Ethan stepped in, dressed impeccably as always, his cold, calculating eyes sweeping over her. He didn't speak immediately, instead letting the silence stretch between them.

Leah forced herself to meet his gaze, her spine straightening. "Why did you do it?" Her voice was soft but laced with defiance. "Why did you take me from that wedding?"

Ethan's jaw tightened, his gaze hard as he crossed the room toward her. "I didn't take you, Leah. I claimed you. There's a difference."

Leah's heart pounded, but she kept her expression calm. "Claimed? As if I'm a piece of property?"

Ethan's lips twisted into a grim smile, though his eyes remained icy. "You knew this would happen eventually. When your father agreed to give you to me, there was no turning back."

Her stomach dropped. "I didn't agree to anything," she shot back, her voice rising. "I didn't want this."

Ethan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Neither did I."

The tension between them grew thick, the air heavy with unsaid words. Leah could see the frustration behind his eyes, the same frustration she felt churning inside her. Neither of them had chosen this path, yet here they were, bound by a marriage neither wanted.

Leah stood abruptly, stepping back from the bed. "If you didn't want this, why force me into it? You could have walked away."

Ethan's eyes flashed with something unreadable. He stepped closer, invading her space. "Walk away? Do you think I could let this go? Your father sold you to me to save his skin, and I needed a wife for a week to secure my inheritance. You, Leah, are the price I paid to protect my reputation. Nothing more."

Leah's breath caught, but she refused to flinch. "Then let me go after your week is over."

Ethan stared at her for a long moment, his gaze piercing. "We'll see."

The words hung in the air like a dark promise, and Leah felt the weight of her situation settle deeper into her bones. Ethan was a man of control, and though she had been thrust into his world, she would not allow herself to be a pawn in his game.

---

Hours later, Natasha sat in the grand parlor, her eyes scanning the room, plotting her next move. Every servant that passed through the halls, every piece of information whispered in corners-she would use it all.

As Vivian entered the room, she felt a shift in the air. Natasha's eyes glimmered with a dangerous light, and the way she held herself, poised and calculating, made it clear she had already begun her plan.

"Mother," Natasha said coolly, not looking up from the papers spread out before her. "I'll need your help if we are to destroy Leah and Ethan's little union. I refuse to let them get away with this."

Vivian hesitated, then nodded. "What do you need?"

Natasha's smile was slow, serpentine. "Everything you know about Leah. Every secret, every weakness. I intend to make sure Ethan Blackwood regrets ever thinking Leah Sterling was worth anything."