The Ruined Heiress's Dark Contract Marriage

The light from the Plaza Hotel's crystal chandeliers fractured into a million blinding shards, raining down on the grand ballroom.

Elsie Phillips lifted the heavy, beaded hem of her haute couture gown. She linked her arm through Kelvin's, her chest tight with a fluttery, suffocating kind of happiness as they walked toward the center stage.

Suddenly, the elegant hum of the string quartet was violently severed.

A piercing, high-pitched screech of microphone feedback tore through the speakers. Guests flinched, hands flying to cover their ears, their polite smiles twisting into grimaces.

Beside her, Kelvin's arm turned to solid stone.

He sucked in a sharp, audible breath. His gaze was locked, wide and terrified, on the massive LED screen suspended directly above the stage.

Elsie frowned. She followed his line of sight, turning her head just as the massive screen flared to life.

The harsh, artificial light washed over her meticulously painted face, draining the color from her skin.

A video was playing. The resolution was mercilessly clear.

It was a woman, her face flushed red, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

It was her. Elsie.

The man in the video was nothing but a broad, muscular back. His powerful arms were pinning Elsie down against the mattress of a dimly lit hotel bed.

A collective gasp ripped through the room. Hundreds of New York's Upper East Side elite stared at the screen, their eyes turning into daggers of disgust, aiming straight for her throat.

Elsie's brain flatlined. The oxygen vanished from the room.

Her hands moved on instinct, reaching out to grab the sleeve of Kelvin's tuxedo jacket. She needed to explain. She needed him to look at her.

Kelvin violently ripped his arm away.

He stumbled back two steps. The revulsion in his eyes was so raw it made Elsie's stomach heave.

"Who the hell is that?" Kelvin roared, his voice cracking with fury. "Who is that bastard?"

Elsie shook her head frantically. Tears spilled over her lashes, dragging black mascara down her pale cheeks.

"I don't know," she choked out, her lips trembling so hard she could barely form the words. "Kelvin, please, I don't remember anything from that night three months ago. I swear to you-"

A sharp crack echoed through the sudden silence.

Kelvin's mother, Eleanor, had marched onto the stage in her designer heels. Her palm connected with the side of Elsie's face with bone-jarring force.

Elsie's head snapped to the side. The metallic taste of blood instantly flooded her mouth.

Her diamond earring unclasped from the impact, hitting the red carpet with a pathetic, hollow clink.

Eleanor snatched the microphone from the frozen host.

"The Barr family will never accept a whore into our bloodline," Eleanor announced, her voice echoing off the gilded walls. "This engagement is over. Effective immediately."

Belle, Elsie's cousin, pushed her way through the whispering crowd.

She rushed to Elsie's side, wrapping her arms around her in a show of fake sympathy. But under the fabric of Elsie's gown, Belle's manicured