The past

Lucien.

Six years ago, at the vibrant age of twenty-six, I was rejected and publicly humiliated by nineteen-year-old Lady Moore Quinn, the extremely beautiful daughter of Lewiston Quinn.

News, billboards, and even gossip had taken over the humiliating rejection for years until this present moment. Not even the news of her imprisonment could wash away the vibrating anger surging through me every damn day her name was called. I wasn't satisfied she was punished, obviously for a crime caused by her husband, the peasant beggar she rejected me for.

And each day, I dreamed of nothing but giving her a taste of her own medicine. I had to take her out of jail to quench that hunger.

She was obviously not how she used to be six years ago. Her family owed me, even after her father asked me to take her little sister, I refused. It was her I wanted! I wanted the world to know she's at the lowest after the chronic humiliation. No one was allowed to make her suffer. I was so angry I decided to punish her husband for doing to her what I should have!

"Hello, Moore," my voice echoed, a slight smirk playing across my lips in victory. "Nice to meet you again."

She stared, her hair and hoodie hiding the rest of her face, but her piercing blue eyes visible to my thirsty amber eyes. She showed shock, surprise, and curiosity all in her eyes.

"Lucien?" she voiced silently, but loud enough for me to catch.

"Father, you're not angry with me?" she asked, forcing her eyes away from me. That obviously wasn't the question she intended to ask; I smiled at her slyness.

"I'm More. Angry, and I would have asked you to leave my house this instance," Mr. Quinn roared, anger vibrating from his being. "But no, I won't do that."

She stared, her eyes filled with yet more tears, which I believed had been her only friend since she got out of jail. She took her steps timidly toward her father, who scurried back, a way of telling her to stop.

"You would have probably spent the rest of your life in jail if Mr. Giordano here had not been kind enough to grant you bail on the cover of amnesty."

As expected, she stared at me in shock, then at her father. I wasn't expecting her to go on her knees to appreciate me; no, I would have been disappointed. But her eyes held fright. She knew my intervention came with a price.

The reason I had to be so humble was to bring myself here to do the last thing meant to proclaim her as mine. That I could finally unleash the demon she had bred.

"What?" Those lips intoxicated me, no doubt. I had great plans to make good use of them after this drama.

She turned to her sister and the elderly woman I presumed was quite acquainted with her. But they averted their gaze, not wanting to be the bearer of the juiciest gossip awaiting her.

"You are not showing the appreciation required, Moore..."

"At what expense, Father?" she interrupted. Very smart girl. "At what price did he get me out of the prison?" Her voice quivered, her index finger pointing towards him.

"Moore..."

"Father!" she screamed again, her anger rising with each provocation.

"You have no right to be angry, woman! Goodness! I hate family dramas. You don't even have the slightest right to be. You chose that boy over your family. You asked for your inheritance and ran away with him, you, Moore, have no right to be angry."

"Father, I'm sorry," she wept, pushing herself forcefully towards him. "I'm so sorry; I'm ready to accept anything to atone for my sins."

Oh dear, you just got yourself implicated.

"And I don't bear any grudge against you, Moore, not when you no longer bear my last name. When, get this done with already, old man. Time is of the essence to me."

"I divorced him already, Father. I'm no longer married to Grey," she countered, causing a slight chuckle from me.

Well, news flash, dear, you got divorced the same day you got married to another. Ironic life of a billionaire's daughter.

"You're married to Mr. Giordano, Moore. You're now Mrs. Giordano, and your wedding is tomorrow."

Ta-da!

She scrambled up immediately from the floor where she had knelt earlier; her face turned to me in some irresistible anger I totally understood.

"He came today to pay your bride price."

When I got her released, Mr. Quinn had thought I wanted anything to do with the business arrangements between us. I wanted her to fully give her what she deserved.

Pain would be her only solace for the rest of her days with me. I would make her love me, and I would break her for doing so.

"What?" she stumbled backward, her hoodie falling in the process, reflecting her sullen face. She looked unwell, unkempt, unfed, and extremely tired. Five years in a dungeon is really not child's play. But I would make her crave for the dungeon after I was done with her.

"He was kind enough after what you did six years ago."

"Father, please," she begged. "Don't do this, please."

"You don't have an abode here anymore, Moore. You're leaving with him tonight. Your sister will join you for the wedding tomorrow," her father announced, turning towards me. "Mr. Giordano, please, you may. You have my blessings."

I smiled, swiftly taking his hands in mine as he watched me walk towards her. She stumbled backward, mixed emotions surging through her.

"You!" she spat, to my delight.

"Me? Is that how you address your husband, Moore?" I asked, Damian, Lillard, and John following closely behind me, ready for my orders.

"I would rather die than marry you!"

I smiled, closing in on her, my hands holding her wrists firmly.

"Death is too much of a pleasant offer, dearest, compared to what you will receive. Follow now, or these men beside me will do you the honour of a lift," I said, releasing her hands and walking away to the exit.

And of course, she was too stubborn to follow orders as her "bring me down!" screams echoed behind me.

Tomorrow was the day I would show her what marrying a demon looked like!