TWO

The minute that palatial foyer greeted me with its white soaring ceilings, gleaming Carrara marble floors, and a magnificent gold chandelier that cast a warm, radiant glow, the realization of my stupidity in signing that wretched contract hit me like a ton of bricks.

I had anticipated that the most daunting aspect would be adjusting to a life that was completely unfamiliar, vastly distinct, and seemingly incompatible with someone of my background.

Oh, how ironic it was that the universe saw fit to play this cruel joke on me.

If only I had known about Damian’s psychotic nature in detail - not that it would have made much difference.

Or would it?

Even the slightest knowledge might have changed something, altered the course of events.

My mind raced with questions, desperately seeking answers to the chaos that engulfed life.

How did I end up in this nightmare? How could I have agreed to this heartless monster? What did I do to deserve such cruelty? How could he utter such words after I just told him about my father?

He must be some kind of psycho!

“I said you should get the fuck inside,” he repeated. His voice was dangerously calm

My hands clenched into fists, while my jaw tightened, and my heart pounded against my chest as our eyes locked in a fierce stare-down.

“You must be out of your damn mind!” I screamed through tears, the surge of courage surprising even myself.

But my words had struck a nerve, infuriating him. I watched as he clenched his jaw tightly, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

A tremor of fear engulfed me as he moved closer to me, his bloodshot eyes burning with intensity.

“What did you just say?” he seethed, his voice a low, dangerous growl, and his face only a foot away from mine.

His words sliced through the air like a knife, and the atmosphere grew even more suffocating. Beads of sweat trickled down my armpits, a physical manifestation of the terror coursing through my body.

At that moment, I couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that today might be my last.

“N-noting,” I stammered, my voice shaky and weak, while my tears flowed uncontrollably.

His hot breath fanned my face, sending a shiver down my spine, as his index finger grazed my trembling lips.

“I was told that men were supposed to ruin lipsticks, not mascaras,” he said with a wicked smile, his eyes blazing with unmistakable desire. “ Mine, these lips are meant to moan, not cry.”

Disgust swelled within me, but I felt utterly powerless, trapped in his predatory gaze.

Then, that evil grin spread across his face, the one that always made me feel little and worthless.

He has this way- I cannot describe it- of making people feel small and helpless, that I just can't wrap my fingers around.

“My Dad… please,” I implored, my voice trembling, desperately hoping that some shred of humanity might reach him.

But he remained unmoved, callously dismissing my plea with a cold stare.

His gaze lingered on my lips for a moment, a sickening mix of desire and control, before locking onto my eyes once again.

“Since you're so experienced at making deals, with my father of course…”

“ I never knew you weren't aware!” I interjected, half-screaming, cutting him off.

Frankly, if I had known that he wasn’t aware of the whole arrangement, I never would have signed that contract.

God damn Jonathan Crown for ensnaring me into this strenuous marriage with his son.

That conniving old man!

“Please, just let me see my Papa!”

I fell to my knees, choking on my own tears.

“You either follow me inside or your beloved ‘papa’s’ life support will be pulled.” he mocked.

My jaw dropped, and my eyes widened in disbelief. The shock scurrying through me was palpable.

This was a life!

Somebody's life!

My papa's life! The very person who had nurtured and loved me!

The thought of his existence being reduced to a bargaining chip was unfathomable.

How could someone be this cold? Does he even have a heart? Was I so evil in my past life to deserve the world fucking me up this much?

Waves of anguish crashed over me as I grappled with the unfairness of it all.

Looking into his eyes, there was no single warmth whatsoever! Not even a hint of sympathy.

“The clock’s ticking…” he smirked.

And with that, he retraced his steps and headed back toward the house.

He was serious! This inhumane psychopath meant every word!

Despite the turmoil inside me, I mustered the courage and reluctantly made my way toward the house.

In all, it was for the most precious person in my life - my dad.

Each step felt heavy, and my legs trembled with a mixture of fear and apprehension. The impending act that awaited me filled me with disgust and disbelief.

When I signed that contract I had never anticipated the intimate part with Damian. The mere thought of it made me sick to my stomach.

Moreover, Mike had assured me that the sexual aspect wasn't part of the agreement. How naive I was to believe the deceitful words that escaped from that liar’s lips.

The night Damian took my virginity felt like the end of my entire world.

If only my existence had ceased on that fateful night, then I wouldn't have had to realize that I wasn't betrayed by an enemy but by someone who claimed to be my friend.

I could still see the smirk on Damian’s lips the moment he discovered I was a virgin. Like it was some kind of joke that a romance author had never been laid.

A cruel joke at my expense.

One that I had desperately wished would have ended there and spared me the bewildering business that left both my dignity and legs sore the next day.

•DAMIAN•

‘When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.’ Laura or whosoever she is, had said.

Do I agree with the statement? … Perhaps.

Could that be the reason why I might’ve ended up this way? … What way?

Many people have had plenty to say about me. Do I care? … Absolutely not, for sure!

What’s my top priority now? Letting hell loose on this little feather-head with terrible champagne taste, whom my father has provided me with, once again.

Well, I don't care if she was fooled by my self-acclaimed smart father or if she has any ulterior motive up her sleeve for agreeing to marry me. I'm all about making her my ultimate weapon and sacrificial lamb in this bloodless battle between me and my father.

Though she’s not the first to have been eliminated in this non-violent contention, I intend for her to be the last. However way it must.

And yes, she's never going to be the same when I'm done with her. Not even the ridiculous baloney she writes under the guise of romance novels will be spared.

Do I feel sorry for her? … Honestly, I’m not familiar with such a concept.

Particularly not for someone who has her head in the clouds and writes about how a regular girl became a surrogate to a prince and ultimately ascends to the throne as a Queen.