My Billionaire Ex Wants Me Back

Chapter 1 The Price

Victoria

The white silk of the wedding dress felt like a shroud against my skin. The fabric was heavy, embroidered with delicate lace that scratched my arms with every movement. I had not chosen this dress. My aunt had picked it. She said it was beautiful. I thought it looked like a cage made of fabric and pearls.

Standing at the altar, my heels sinking into the plush red carpet, the only sound in my head was my aunt's sobs from three days ago. Her voice, cracked and desperate, still echoed in my ears.

"Victoria, please. I am going to lose everything. The house, my shop everything. He is the only one who can save us."

Blackmail disguised as a plea. She had signed her soul to a loan shark, and the only way to buy it back was to sell mine to Adrian Sterling. Twenty-five years old. Billionaire. Recluse. The man who looked like he had been carved from ice and arrogance.

I stared at the sea of faceless strangers. No one was here for me. No one knew that inside this expensive gown burned a fury so cold it could freeze the sun. I was not a blushing bride. I was a hostage. A prisoner in white.

Three years ago, my parents died in a fire. The police called it an accident. But I knew the truth. Someone had killed them. Someone had walked away without a scratch. And I had been searching for answers ever since.

I had spent nights crying myself to sleep. Days working part-time jobs just to survive. I had saved every penny for school, hoping to one day find the truth. But none of that mattered now. I was standing at the altar, marrying a stranger, because my aunt had no other way to pay her debts.

The music swelled, majestic and soulless.

I turned to the altar, moving like a doll with broken strings. And there he was.

Adrian Sterling.

He was tall, with broad shoulders that filled out his midnight blue suit perfectly. His dark hair was neatly styled, not a single strand out of place. His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones high, his lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. He looked like he had been carved from marble. Beautiful, but cold.

He did not look at me. His hazel eyes, warm in color but cold in expression, were fixed straight ahead. Sunlight through stained glass painted him in colors, but nothing could warm his chilling perfection. His suit was midnight blue. His tie was jet black. He looked like an undertaker at a funeral.

A small part of me, the part that still remembered what it felt like to dream, had hoped for a flicker of something in his eyes. A twitch of his lips. A softening of his gaze. Anything to make this feel less like a transaction and more like a union.

But there was nothing. He was a statue. Cold. Unmoving. Unfeeling.

As I reached him, the priest began to drone. I did not hear the words. I was hyper-aware of the heat coming from Adrian's body, a stark contrast to his icy posture. His cologne filled my senses, something expensive and sharp like cedar and smoke.

"Do you, Adrian, take this woman..."

He finally turned to look at me. His eyes were startling, hazel like whiskey in sunlight. But there was no warmth in them. For a split second, I saw it. Not desire. Not love. Possession. Cold, calculating ownership that made my stomach twist into knots.

"I do." His voice was a deep baritone that sent shivers down my spine.

My turn.

The priest smiled. "And do you, Victoria, take this man..."

The words stuck in my throat like broken glass. My aunt was in the front row, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Her tears were real, but the situation was her own making. She had borrowed money she could never repay, and now I was paying the price.

I was a puppet. A bargaining chip. This stranger who looked at me like I was an asset was now my husband.

"I... do."

The moment the words left my lips, his hand closed around my wrist. Not tight enough to bruise, but firm enough to feel like a warning. A brand. His thumb pressed against my pulse point, feeling my racing heart. You are mine now.

We were pronounced husband and wife.

When I leaned in for the kiss, he did not move. He simply bent down, his lips brushing my ear, not my lips. His whisper was a shard of glass against my skin.

"Do not mistake this for a marriage. This is a deal. In my world, you will play the perfect wife. Smile. Wave. Keep your mouth shut. Stay out of my way."

He pulled back, his mask firmly in place. A tight, calculated smile for the cameras. I could only stare, my blood turning to ice in my veins.

This was not a marriage. It was a cage. And I was the bird who had just been sold to the highest bidder.

But he had no idea this bird had been sharpening its beak for years. Three years, to be exact. Three years since my parents died in that fire. Three years of searching for answers. Three years of burning for revenge.

As he led me down the aisle, I caught one last glimpse of my aunt. Relief flickered in her eyes. Or was it guilt? I could not tell anymore. I could not trust anyone.

The cathedral doors closed behind us with a foreboding boom. Like a tomb sealing shut.

In the limousine, privacy screen up, Adrian stared out the window. His profile was sharp as a cliff face, his jaw tight with barely contained tension. I stared at my hands, the diamond on my finger catching light. Huge. Flawless. The price of my freedom. The chains around my neck.

"So what now, Mr. Sterling? What happens to me now that you have bought me?"

He turned, his hazel eyes pinning me in place. A slow assessment that made my skin prickle with awareness.

"Now?" A ghost of a smirk, utterly devoid of warmth. "Now, you become the most hated woman in the city. That is exactly what I need."

He reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a folder. It landed between us with a soft thud.

"You are going to help me ruin someone. In return, I will give you what you really want."

My heart hammered against my ribs. He knew. He knew about my mission. But how?

"What makes you think I want anything from you?"

He leaned forward, his gaze turning predatory. His eyes seemed to see right through me.

"Because, my dear wife, I know everything about you. Including who killed your parents." He tapped the folder. "And I know how to make them pay."

The world narrowed to just his face, the folder, and the roaring of my own blood in my ears.

He knows who killed my parents.

"Now, do we have a deal?" The smirk returned. "Or do you want to go back to your life of servitude?"

I was trapped. There was no way out. But I did not just feel like a pawn anymore. I felt like a weapon. A weapon he was about to unleash on his enemies.

The question was not if I would say yes. The question was... what was he hiding that made him want to destroy them too?

I reached for the folder with trembling hands. My fingers brushed against the expensive paper.

"What is your name?" I asked. "Your real name? Adrian Sterling is a lie. I can feel it."

For the first time, his mask cracked. Just a little. His eyes flickered with something dark and dangerous. Something that looked almost like pain.

"My name is the least of your worries, Victoria. Open the folder."

I did not move. I stared into his stormy hazel eyes and waited.

"Adrian." He finally said it. Just his name. But something in the way he said it made my breath catch. "My mother called me Adrian. Before she died. Before my father killed her."

The silence between us was thick enough to cut.

"Open the folder, Victoria. Let me show you who we are going to destroy together."

My fingers trembled as I opened it.

The first photograph stared back at me. A man in his fifties, silver hair, cold blue eyes. A smile that did not reach his eyes.

My breath caught in my throat. I knew that face. Everyone knew that face.

Marcus Sterling. Media mogul. Philanthropist. The man who had been at my parents' funeral, offering his condolences with a warm handshake and a cold smile.

The man who had killed them.

And the man who was Adrian's father.

"How?" My voice cracked. "How did you know?"

Adrian leaned back, his hazel eyes never leaving my face. The mask was back in place, colder than before.

"Because I was there, Victoria. I saw everything. I saw my father leave your parents' house that night. And I saw the fire start ten minutes later."

My world tilted on its axis. He was there. He saw everything. And he had waited three years to tell me.

"Why?" I demanded, my voice rising with barely contained fury. "Why did you wait so long? Why did you let me suffer?"

Adrian's jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought I saw guilt flash across his face. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Because I needed you to be desperate enough to say yes to me. I needed you to be ready to do whatever it takes. And now you are."

He was right. I hated that he was right. But he was.

I looked at the photograph again. Marcus Sterling's cold blue eyes seemed to mock me from the glossy paper.

My parents. Dead. Their house burned to the ground. And this man had walked away without a scratch.

"Tell me everything," I whispered. "Tell me how we destroy him."

Adrian smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was the smile of a predator who had finally cornered his prey.

"First, we make the world believe we are madly in love. Then, we take everything from him. His money. His power. His reputation. And then..." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then we take his life."

The limousine pulled to a stop. We had arrived at Sterling Manor. His home. My new prison.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Sterling." He opened the door and stepped out, offering me his hand.

I stared at his outstretched hand. Pale. Strong. The hand of a killer. The hand of my new husband.

"I have one condition," I said, not moving. "When this is over, I walk away free. No strings attached. No debts. I am done with the Sterlings."

Adrian's eyes searched my face. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker there. Disappointment? Regret?

"Agreed." He took my hand and pulled me out of the car. "But know this, Victoria. When this is over, you might not want to walk away."

The house loomed before us, dark and imposing. A gothic mansion that seemed to swallow the moonlight.

And deep inside, I could feel it.

This was only the beginning.

The game had just begun.

And the prize was vengeance.

But as I walked through those massive oak doors, I could not shake the feeling that I was not just walking into a marriage.

I was walking into a war.

And the most dangerous part

I was not sure which side Adrian was really on.