My Heart Turned To Stone For Him

I was New York's "wild child" artist, sold by my father into a marriage with the powerful Camden Winters. It was a cold transaction-my freedom for a life-saving drug from my family's company.

But the drug wasn't for him. It was for Brianne, his fragile childhood sweetheart, the "unforgettable love" he swore to me on our wedding day didn't exist.

When we both ended up critically injured in the hospital, the doctors asked my husband who to save first. He didn't hesitate.

"Save Brianne."

He chose to let his own wife die. After all the lies and betrayals, I finally understood I was just a tool. My heart turned to stone.

So I divorced him and vanished. But he hunted me down, destroyed the new life I had built, and dragged me back, discovering I was pregnant with his child.

He thought he had me trapped forever. He was wrong. I made him a promise, and then I broke it, leaving him with nothing but the ashes of his obsession.

Chapter 1

Ashton Donaldson POV:

The world knew me as the "wild child" of New York, a reputation I' d carefully, almost meticulously, cultivated. They saw the paint-splattered jeans, the smudged charcoal on my cheek, the late-night gallery openings turned into impromptu performance art. They saw a rebel, an artist who didn' t give a damn about pedigree or old money. And for a long time, that was all I wanted them to see. It was protection, a shield against the suffocating expectations of the Donaldson name.

My father, Alvis Donaldson, saw none of it. He saw an asset, an obstacle, a bargaining chip – depending on the day. One Tuesday afternoon, the gilded cage I called my studio became a trap. My phone buzzed with an urgent summons. It wasn't a request. It was an order. "Be at the penthouse in an hour. Dress appropriately." That was all his assistant said before the line went dead.

I knew what "appropriately" meant. No paint, no holes, just the polished facade of the daughter he wished I was. My stomach twisted. Call it instinct, but I knew this wasn't about another charity gala I could escape early from. This felt different. It felt…permanent.

When I walked into his opulent living room, the air was thick with unspoken deals and the scent of expensive cigars. My father stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me, the city sprawling beneath him like a toy set. Across from him, a man I vaguely recognized from society pages stood ramrod straight, his eyes like chipped granite. Camden Winters. Ex-Navy SEAL. Heir to a political dynasty. A walking, talking monument to discipline and control. He was everything I wasn't, everything I loathed.

"Ashton," my father began, turning, his voice devoid of warmth. "Camden and I have reached an agreement. You are to be married."

The words hit me like a physical blow. The world tilted. Marriage? To him? My father hadn't even looked at me