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Marry to the One Who Betrayed Me

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Blurb

When Aryanna Kyle returns to Snow Town, her purpose is clear but cloaked in shadows: infiltrate Darren Miller’s world and exact her revenge. She once had a happy family and parents who loved her more than anyone else. But it was ruined by a man named Darren, and Aryanna swore to make him pay price for it.

However, gaining access to the life of this aloof CEO proves to be as daunting as it is dangerous. For Darren Miller is a man renowned for his ruthless apathy and lethal disregard for anyone beneath him.

But Darren’s world is rife with elusive enemies, which makes Aryanna assume the role of an ally, helping him untangle conspiracies involving his own board of directors and a vicious competitor. The price she needs to pay is signing a contract and becoming his fiancee, like sacrifcing herself to the demon.

Her strategy works. As Darren’s vigilance remains focused outward, he remains unaware of the true threat: the very person by his side, poised like a blade to his back, that becomes the very instrument of his undoing.

Marry to the One Who Betrayed Me is created by Lyra TaleSmith, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

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Chapter 1-The End Begins
*Aryanna* No one knew about my return, which was why no one would see it coming. As the plane began its slow descent, a subtle tension built within the cabin. The hum of the engines shifted, echoing the weight of anticipation. Outside, the landscape below unfurled, familiar yet distant—a place that was once not only my home but also my happiness. The sight still stirred something deep inside me. My heart beat faster, an anxious rhythm that mirrored the flicker of the seatbelt signs overhead. The excitement was there, but it was veiled beneath layers that tangled up with the ghosts of the past and the promises of this return. It was a sensation that pulled at me, knowing that my feet would soon touch down in the place I once called home. But there was no time to reminisce when so much work needed to be done. I didn't even have the time to nurse my nostalgia. From the airport, I had to go straight to my first day at a new job. It had all been building blocks, and my new job at this particular law firm was the foundation. Stepping out of the airport into the biting chill of Syracuse, my former world welcomed me back in a flurry of white. The air itself felt charged, thick with a history I didn't want to breathe in but couldn't escape. Every moment was a collision of memory and resentment, reminding me every second of why I was forced to leave and obligated to return. It was because of him—Darren. The man's shadow was so omniscient it cast a pall over my every choice. He was the man I loved who had shattered everything I adored. He forced me to leave behind the ruins left in the wake of that love, which was wreckage that I had to build upon. Back then, I was known by another name, but the story was the same—the man I loved most had his rebirth through the fires that consumed my life. I wasn't going back to make peace with my past. I was there to tear it apart. My heels were muffled by the thin coat of white on the paved lanes as I pulled my coat tighter, feeling the cold nip at my skin. My breath fogged the air in small clouds as I raised my hand, the frigid wind brushing past and carrying the distant hum of the airport behind me. A yellow cab pulled up beside the curb. The tires crunched through the fresh powder. The driver climbed out, giving me a curt nod. He packed my luggage in the trunk before I opened the door. The warmth from the heater immediately embraced me. I slid inside and shut the door behind me. I delivered my request and paid the fare before the cab jerked into motion, the wipers swishing rhythmically to clear the snow away. Thick snowflakes swirled in the streetlights' glow. Syracuse was a landscape of white. Soon, the car finally slowed in front of the law firm of Blackwell & Reeve. The cold air stung my cheeks as I slid out of the cab. The driver handed me my suitcase. The snow crackled with every step toward the entrance. Inside, the law firm was an elegant medley of polished stone floors and sleek wood paneling. The receptionist nodded as though my arrival was anticipated. She regarded me with a practiced smile as I approached. We exchanged information. After a short inquiry, she tapped a final confirmation on the computer. She offered another polite smile as she motioned me toward the elevator bay and pointed to where I could leave my luggage. I gave her a grateful smile before I made my way to the first elevator. The ride up was swift and silent. Suppressed nerves clawed at my chest, desperate to breach the surface, but I forced them back with a tight swallow. This job wasn't a mere stepping stone. It was critical in a plan that had been years in the making. This particular firm wasn't just a workplace—it was a gateway. It was an entry-level position to penetrate Darren's company, which would take years to infiltrate for me to work my way to his side. Blackwell was the link—a collaborative nexus between the firm and Miller Corporation that would face-track the reunion between me and the CEO—Darren. People said the line between justice and revenge was thin. For me, it didn't exist. I craved both with equal fervor. I needed justice for my family and revenge. I wanted to see him suffer and watch his heart break and bleed as mine once did. Darren entered my life wrapped in the guise of everything good: a trusted friend to my father, the kind of man who earned admiration with ease, and my first great love—the one who taught me the heights of devotion before dragging me into the depths of betrayal. He played his role masterfully, molding himself into exactly what we needed to see. But it was all an illusion. By the time the mask slipped, and his true nature emerged, it was too late. I planned to repay him in kind. I was going to dismantle him piece by piece, just as he did to me. Darren built his power on the ashes of my blood. I would see that power reduced to rubble, ensuring he felt every ounce of the devastation he once inflicted. Justice and revenge were the two sides of the same tragedy, and I would not stop until I claimed both. When the elevator doors slid open, I stepped into a long corridor bathed in warm, golden light. The office of Mr. Brown, a partner at Blackwell, was at the end of the long hallway. The office's large double doors were slightly ajar, leaving an inviting glow of a fire visible through the crack. I paused for a moment collecting myself before pushing the doors open. Inside, Mr. Brown sat behind an expansive desk, the vast snow-blanketed landscape stretching out behind him. I adjusted my posture as I approached with a careful smile. Mr Brown stood, and I extended my hand. He shook it firmly. He motioned to the open seat before sitting in the leather office chair behind his desk. “There's not much to say other than that I'm impressed. Your record is truly inspirational. Excelling at Yale, one of the most prestigious law schools in the country, means standing out in a highly competitive setting, mastering complex legal theory, and demonstrating unparalleled analytical and advocacy skills." What the record didn't reflect was the blood, sweat, and tears that drove my efforts. The past five years had been grueling. I had to juggle odd part-time jobs to support my living expenses and tuition. The burden had been mine to bear alone, but those were challenges I kept to myself. Instead, I clasped my hands, leaning forward slightly, never breaking eye contact. “Your achievements have earned you a place here, but it is up to you to put in the work to stay," he said. "Now to the first order of business. The law firm has a long-standing strategic partnership with one of the foremost companies in Syracuse, Miller Corporation. A significant portion of your future work will involve delivering legal services to them, especially for the CEO." Mr. Brown leaned forward, steepling his weathered fingers. “And that is what I wanted to warn you about." “Warn me?" I asked, a confused smile lighting my lips. “The CEO of Miller Corporation, Darren Miller." He hesitated and then surrendered an uneasy shrug. “He can be a difficult man. Darren Miller can be harsh and very hard to work with because of it. He's cutthroat and ruthless, which I think enabled him to amass such considerable wealth. He doesn't care who he has to cut down to get what he wants." I nodded slowly, shifting uncomfortably. He sighed. “Just handle him with caution." Suddenly, stillness became impossible. My fingers fidgeted restlessly, clammy palms betraying the storm beneath my skin. But it wasn't fear that set my nerves alight—it was anticipation. Everything was falling into place faster than I could've hoped. Every step I'd taken, every sacrifice and carefully executed move, had led me to this point—to him. It was just as I had planned. No, it was better than I had planned. Mr. Brown, oblivious to the game unfolding, had now assigned me to Darren directly. It was perfect, seamless even. It meant working with him personally and shadowing his every move. It was a chance to get dangerously close—close enough to unmake him. And thanks to my procedure, the face in the mirror no longer bore any trace of the ghost I used to be. My cosmetic surgery ensured that he wouldn't see me coming—that the specter of his past had returned to haunt his future. I smoothed my hands against my skirt, forcing a veneer of calm. But inside, a quiet, deadly triumph hummed. The hunter was closing in, and Darren wouldn't even realize he was now my prey until it was far too late. “I'm ready to handle anything. Even him." “Good, because we were set to have a meeting at the Miller Corporation this evening." *** Mr. Brown claimed the chair on the right-hand side of the head of the table. As I took my seat, sitting beside the director, tension filled the room. My nerves coiled tight, threatening to shake the calm I fought so hard to maintain. For a moment, they almost succeeded. But a few measured breaths steadied the storm, anchoring me in the resolve I spent years cultivating. Even so, no amount of preparation could erase the weight of what lay ahead: standing face-to-face with the man who had nearly unraveled me, the man who had come so close to destroying everything I was. I had readied myself for this moment in every possible way, yet the prospect of his presence still stirred a deep, raw ache. It was a reminder of the scars he'd left behind. But those scars had also hardened me, and now they were my armor. I glanced down, my thoughts a swirling fog heavy with the weight of anticipation. Everything was converging, climbing to a crescendo I had both longed for and dreaded. The moment I had been preparing for had arrived, sharp and electrifying, yet somehow it still managed to catch me off guard. For years, I had steeled myself to face this man, imagining this encounter in a thousand different ways. Yet now, as the reality loomed, chills crept along my spine, unbidden. Even though I knew he wouldn't recognize me—couldn't possibly recognize me—the ghost of his presence was enough to stir an ache that had never fully faded. The face staring back at him wouldn't betray my identity. I endured five years of meticulous planning and surgeries that had reshaped my features, ensuring that I was someone else entirely. Yet beneath the flawless mask, my blood still hummed with the fire of the woman he had wronged. The door swung open. Even the air seemed to shift, heavy with the weight of unspoken history. After so many years, there he stood.

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