THE HEIRESS'S BLACKMAIL GROOM

The city glittered beneath the Hart family’s rooftop suite, each skyscraper like a candle on an enormous cake. Inside, champagne flutes clinked, laughter spilled over the edge of the infinity pool, and every face glowed with the kind of wealth and ease Selene Hart had been born into. She stood near the glass railing, the soft ivory of her cocktail dress catching the fairy lights strung across the terrace. From here, she could see the spire of Saint Helena’s Cathedral the place she would, in less than twelve hours, walk down the aisle to marry Alexander Grayson or so everyone believed. “Selene!” Her best friend Lila breezed over, balancing two champagne glasses and a ridiculous pink sash that read Bride to Be. “You’ve been standing here like a painting. Come on, your bridal shower is not the time to brood.” Selene smiled, but it was the well-trained kind she’d been perfecting for years. The one the press called “Hart’s Diamond Smile.” Inside, she wasn’t brooding. She was memorizing. The skyline. The smell of roses from the terrace arrangements. The laughter of her mother in the corner, speaking with the governor’s wife. Because something about tonight hummed with wrongness. It wasn’t nerves about the wedding. Alexander is a fine man. Handsome in a preppy, trust-fund sort of way, stable and predictable. Their union was the kind of merger both families adored. Power meeting power, no surprises. And yet… Her phone buzzed. A message from her father "We need to talk. Not here. Not in front of anyone." A drop of unease slid down her spine. She typed back, Everything okay? No reply. “Earth to Selene,” Lila teased, waving a glass in front of her. “Drink. Smile. Pretend you’re marrying for love.” Selene took the champagne and laughed. A real one this time but her mind was already wandering. That was when the elevator chimed. No one noticed at first. Staff came and went all night. But Selene’s gaze caught on the figure stepping out. He didn’t belong. Tall. Dark suit tailored so sharp it could cut. No tie. Shirt collar open at the throat. Black hair falling in deliberate disarray over a face both beautiful and dangerous, the kind of danger that wasn’t just a whisper but a promise. Kieran Wolfe. She’d seen him before in glossy magazine spreads about hostile takeovers and blood-on-the-boardroom deals. Billionaire. Scandal magnet. A man her father had once muttered about like you mutter about an incoming storm. And he was walking straight toward her. The party noise dimmed in her head. The hum of wrongness swelled. “Kieran Wolfe,” she said as he stopped before her, voice even despite her pulse pounding. “You’re not on the guest list.” He smiled. Slow. Predatory. “I never am. But I have an invitation you can’t refuse.” Lila’s eyes widened. “Is this some kind of prank?” “It’s no prank.” Kieran slipped his hand into his jacket, pulled out a sleek black tablet, and tapped it. A video began to play. Selene’s breath froze. Her father. In his office. Handing over a thick envelope to a man she didn’t recognize. Numbers scrolled across the bottom of the screen transfers, accounts, dates. Clear, damning evidence. “I’m guessing you don’t want this sent to the district attorney,” Kieran said, voice low enough only she could hear. “Or every major news outlet in the country.” Selene tore her eyes from the screen. “What do you want?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. “You have two hours to decide, Hart. Marry me tomorrow, or watch your family burn.” For a second, the world tipped sideways. Her mother’s laughter in the distance. Lila’s confused frown. The thrum of music. All of it felt like it belonged to someone else’s life. She swallowed. “Why?” “Because,” Kieran said with the calm certainty of a man who never heard no, “you’re the only thing your father values more than money. And I like owning valuable things.” The next moments blurred. He left as suddenly as he came, slipping into the elevator with a final glance that promised she’d see him again before morning. Selene stood rooted, glass trembling in her hand. She thought about calling her father. She thought about telling her mother. But she could already see the fallout, the scandal, the trial, the ruin. Her life had been a series of careful moves. This was the first time she felt like she was standing on the edge of a board she hadn’t chosen. Lila touched her arm. “Selene, who was that?” Selene smiled, brittle, practiced. “No one important.” Inside, she knew it was a lie. At midnight, she was in her suite, the city lights beyond her balcony. She couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop replaying the video. Two hours, he’d said. But he hadn’t told her how the clock would run out. The first sign was the fire alarm. She grabbed her robe and opened the door and found Kieran Wolfe leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting all night. “Time’s up, Hart.” They didn’t take the elevator. He led her through a service stairwell, down into the belly of the building, where a sleek black car waited. “This is kidnapping,” she said, voice low but sharp. “It’s an engagement,” Kieran corrected, holding the door open. “You’ll thank me later.” “Not likely.” His smile was infuriating. “We’ll see.” As the car pulled away, Selene’s gaze caught the looming silhouette of Saint Helena’s Cathedral. And she knew with bone-deep certainty that tomorrow, she would walk down that aisle. But Alexander Grayson wouldn’t be the man waiting for her. In the darkness of the car, Kieran leaned close enough for his lips to brush her ear. “Sleep well, Mrs. Wolfe to be. The game begins at dawn.”