Chapter 1: The Night He Refused Me
The grand chandelier above shimmered like a thousand cold stars, casting light over a wedding that felt more like a transaction than a celebration.
Isabella stood still, her fingers tightening around the bouquet she no longer wanted.
This wasn't love, this wasn't even choice.
This was obligation.
Across the room, her husband—Leonard Blackwood—stood tall, untouchable, and completely uninterested in her existence.
The most powerful man in the room, the man she had just married and the man who hated her.
Isabella swallowed, forcing her trembling feet forward as whispers followed her like shadows.
"He didn't even look at her during the vows…"
"Poor girl…"
"That marriage won't last."
Every word stabbed deeper than the last, but she kept walking because she had no other choice.
The door to the master bedroom shut behind them with a soft but final click.
Silence, heavy, soffocating silence .
Isabella turned slowly, her heart pounding against her chest.
Leonard had already loosened his tie, his movements calm, careless—like tonight meant nothing, Like she meant nothing.
"Leonard …" her voice came out softer than she intended.
He didn't respond.
Instead, he poured himself a drink.
The sound of liquid hitting glass echoed in the quiet room.
"I think we should talk," she tried again.
This time, he laughed, a low humorless sound.
Finally, he turned to her. His eyes were cold and sharp.
"Talk?" he repeated, as if the word itself disgusted him. "About what?"
Isabella hesitated. "About… us."
"There is no 'us.'"
The words hit instantly.
She felt it in her chest like a crack forming.
"But we're married now—"
"And whose fault is that?" he cut in, stepping closer.
Each step he took made her feel smaller.
"We both know this marriage was arranged," he continued, his voice dropping. "A business deal dressed up as a wedding."
She clenched her hands.
"I didn't force you."
"No," Damien said, his lips curling slightly. "You just benefited from it."
Her breath caught.
That wasn't fair.
But before she could defend herself, he spoke again—colder this time.
"Let's make something clear tonight, Isabella ."
Her name sounded wrong in his mouth.
Like something bitter.
"I will give you the title. The house. The money."
He stopped right in front of her.
Close enough that she could feel the distance anyway.
"But don't expect anything else."
Her voice trembled. "Anything… else?"
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes—completely empty.
"No affection." A pause. "No love."
"And definitely not my touch."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Isabella felt her throat tighten, her vision blur just slightly—but she refused to cry, not in front of him, not tonight.
"If that's how you feel," she said quietly, gathering what little dignity she had left, "then why agree to this marriage at all?"
Leonard smirked,not amused, not kind, just cruel.
"Because," he said, stepping back, picking up his glass again, "some sacrifices are necessary for power."
Power.
That was all this was to him.
She wasn't a wife, she was a pawn.
Later that night, Isabella sat alone on the edge of the massive bed that suddenly felt too big… and too empty.
Her wedding dress still clung to her like a reminder of everything she had lost.
Her freedom, her voice, her heart.
Leonard did not sleep in the same room with her.
But what Isabella didn't know…
Was that in just a few days—One accident would erase everything Damien knew.
Including the hatred he felt for her.
And when he woke up…
He would look at her like she was his entire world.