The clinking of crystal glasses and the low hum of polite laughter filled the grand dining hall of the Blackwood estate. Chandeliers glittered overhead, scattering golden light across polished marble floors. The atmosphere was elegant, almost suffocating, as though every sparkle was meant to remind those present of how little they mattered compared to the wealth and power in the room.
At the far end of the long mahogany table sat Liana Hart. She looked calm on the surface, her delicate features composed, her posture straight. But beneath the tablecloth, her fists were clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
She hadn't wanted to come tonight. She hadn't wanted to wear the pale silk dress her stepmother shoved at her, or paint on the polite smile demanded of her. Most of all, she hadn't wanted to be paraded like some bargaining chip in front of the most feared man in the city.
Her stepfather's voice, smooth and dripping with false charm, pulled her back into the present.
"Mr. Blackwood," Richard Hart said, raising his glass with an oily smile, "it is an honor to discuss an alliance with you. I believe we can settle matters in a way that benefits both our families."
Liana's stomach twisted. She knew what was coming.
Across from her sat Adrian Blackwood.
Even in a room full of power-hungry men, he stood apart. He didn't need to speak to command attention. His presence alone dominated the space, sharp and cold like a blade resting against one's throat. His suit was perfectly tailored, his movements precise, his expression unreadable. When he raised his glass to his lips, the simple gesture made even seasoned businessmen nervous.
And those eyes—gray, stormy, and merciless—were the kind of eyes that stripped people bare, leaving them with no illusions of control.
Adrian was a man known for many things: brilliance in business, ruthless strategies, unshakable composure. But tonight, he was being pushed into something he despised.
"Marriage," Richard finally said, his tone casual, though his gaze glimmered with desperation. "Your family's reputation has suffered recently. The tabloids are relentless. What better way to silence the noise than with a respectable marriage? And my daughter, Liana…" He gestured toward her with a flourish, as though presenting a gift. "…is more than capable of being your wife."
The words sliced into her like knives.
Liana's breath hitched. Her stepfather hadn't even asked her. He never did. To him, she was nothing but leverage, the answer to his gambling debts and failed investments.
Her stepmother sat nearby, eyes glittering with satisfaction. Selling Liana off to Adrian Blackwood would secure their place in society. For them, it was a golden opportunity. For her, it was a gilded cage.
Adrian's jaw tightened. Slowly, he set his glass down on the table, the soft clink somehow louder than the chatter of the entire room.
"Marriage," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't recall ever asking for such an arrangement."
The words were calm, but they rippled through the hall like thunder. Conversation faltered. Even Richard flinched.
For the first time that evening, hope flared in Liana's chest. Perhaps Adrian Blackwood would refuse. Perhaps he would end this farce before it could begin.
But Richard wasn't finished. He leaned forward, lowering his tone. "With all due respect, Mr. Blackwood, this marriage is not only beneficial to us, but to you. The rumors surrounding your family have been persistent. A wife—a respectable one—will silence the gossip. And my daughter…" He smiled, and Liana wanted to slap the smugness off his face. "…is beautiful, educated, and discreet. She will serve her purpose well."
Heat rushed to her cheeks—not from embarrassment, but fury. She could no longer bite her tongue.
"I am sitting right here," Liana snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Don't talk about me as if I'm invisible."
The room went silent. Even the waiters froze mid-step.
Adrian's gaze shifted to her for the first time. Slowly. Intentionally. His eyes met hers, and it felt as if the world narrowed until there was only him, and her, and the dangerous current sparking between them.
Gray met brown. Ice met fire.
For a moment, something flickered across his expression—amusement, perhaps, or curiosity. Then his lips curved, not into a smile, but something sharper.
"So, you do have a voice," he murmured.
Liana held his gaze. She refused to cower, even if her heart thundered in her chest. He was Adrian Blackwood—the man who could destroy entire empires—but she would not let him see her fear.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger lightly against the stem of his wineglass. Seconds stretched into eternity before he finally spoke again.
"Very well," he said, his tone deliberate, each word precise. "If this marriage must happen, let's call it what it is." He paused, his eyes never leaving hers. "A contract."
A murmur rippled through the guests.
Liana's breath caught. A contract?
Adrian continued, his voice cool, detached. "I don't need a wife who dreams of romance or plays the role of a devoted partner. What I need is someone who understands boundaries. Someone who won't interfere with my life." His gaze sharpened, piercing through her. "You'll have your security. Your family will have their peace. In return, you will play the role society demands. Nothing more."
His words sliced through her composure, leaving an icy ache in her chest.
To the world, it would look like a marriage of power, wealth, and prestige. To them, it would be nothing but an arrangement.
Liana inhaled shakily, her pride screaming at her to refuse. But her stepfather's warning glance told her otherwise. She knew what was at stake. If she said no, her family would crumble. The debts, the threats, the vultures circling—it would all come crashing down.
Her stepmother's voice broke the silence. "That sounds… perfectly reasonable, Mr. Blackwood."
Perfectly reasonable. The words made Liana want to laugh and scream at once.
Adrian's gaze lingered on her, cold and assessing, as if daring her to speak, to defy him. And in that moment, she realized the truth:
This wasn't a proposal. It wasn't even a choice.
It was a prison—dressed up in diamonds, draped in vows, wrapped in the illusion of dignity.
Yet as Adrian's lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smirk, Liana felt her spine straighten. She might not have been given a choice, but she would not surrender her will.
If this man thought she would be a silent pawn in his empire, he was gravely mistaken.
For every vow he chained her with, she would forge her own.