His Betrayal, My Sudden Wedding Vows

For seven years, I was his property. The lover and most trusted operative of Damian Benjamin, Veridian City' s ruthless kingpin. I took bullets for him, balanced his bloody books, and foolishly mistook his possessiveness for love.

Then, he ordered me to seduce his rival, Earl Reid.

It was all a cruel scheme to win the heart of another woman. I followed his orders, luring Earl into a hotel suite at a gala, only for Damian to burst in with the press.

He publicly shamed me, leaving me naked and exposed as his true love called me trash. My seven-year devotion was shattered by the man I thought was my savior.

But as the camera flashes blinded me, Earl Reid, the man I was sent to destroy, shielded my body from the world.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable, and made an announcement that sealed my fate.

"We're getting married."

Chapter 1

"I own you," the old man from the syndicate had said, his cloudy eyes raking over my trembling body. "But that face, that body... they're not for the likes of us. They're a weapon. A gift for someone much, much more important."

That was seven years ago.

The next day, I was cleaned up, dressed in clothes worth more than my family' s entire medical debt, and delivered like a package to Damian Benjamin' s penthouse.

Veridian City' s uncrowned king.

I was terrified. The stories about him were the stuff of nightmares, whispered in the dark corners of the underworld I' d been thrown into. They said he was ruthless, cold-blooded, a predator in a bespoke suit.

My hands were clammy, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might break free. The penthouse was silent, cavernous, the floor-to-ceiling windows showing a city that glittered like a galaxy of fallen stars. A city that now felt like a cage.

He was sitting in a leather armchair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, the ice clinking softly as he swirled it. He didn't look at me. He just stared out at the city lights.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please, I can work. I can do anything. Just... not this."

My stomach churned with a sickening mix of fear and bile. The thought of his hands on me, of what was expected of me, made my skin crawl. I felt a wave of nausea so intense I had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting on the pristine marble floor.

Damian finally turned his head. His eyes, the color of dark-smoked whiskey, moved over me slowly, dismissively. There was no pity in them. No warmth. Only a chilling sort of appraisal, like a man looking at a new piece of art he' d just acquired.

He set his glass down with a soft click and rose to his feet. He was taller than I' d imagined, his presence filling the room, sucking all the air out. He walked toward me,