Sold To An Icy Billionaire

Chapter 2

Brenda's Pov

As the car screetched to halt at the mansion, my stomach churned with dread. I didn't need a second glance to recognise the place I once called home. It just stood as imposing as ever, with it's high arches and cold, sterile elegance. But waiting at the entrance were the faces I loathed most -franscisco's new family.

Monica Chris, his second wife was a divorcee whom my father married three months after mom passed away. She stood in all her haughty glory, her lips curling into a smug smile. The disgust in her eyes was unmistakable, as if my presence was an obstruction to her perfectly constructed life. She had hated that I was the sole heiress of Franscisco's galactic properties, she had succeeded in kicking me out once, and I could see the disappointment flickering in her gaze that her victory had been short-lived.

The tension was thick as we entered the mansion. Francisco handed me off to a trio of maids with a dismissive wave of his hand, his voice sharp. "Make her presentable. The man would soon arrive," he barked, his tone leaving no room for protest. He walked away with Monica, who secretly eyed me with a smirk.

The maids quietly led me through the grand hallways to my old room. My breath seized in my throat as I stepped in. It was immaculate, the air faintly scented with lavender. But something felt off-like someone had been using it in my absence. But there was no time to focus on that now. The weight of what awaited me loomed too large.

I tried to shake off the feeling of dread and instead focus on the most pressing problem at hand: my future. A stranger, a man that I had never met, was to be my husband. I have only seen this in movies and novels, but is it really happening to me? I'm getting into a loveless marriage?

My heart pounded with fear as the maids prepared me, picking out a sleek red dress and stilettos that has been tailored to perfection just for me.

As they worked, I stared at my reflection. The woman staring back at me was almost unrecognisable. The make up accentuated my features, softening the sharp edges of fear and exhaustion. For a fleeting moment, I marvelled at the transformation. But then, reality crashed back. All of this, everything wasn't for me-it was for him. The mysterious stranger.

The knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. Dora Williams, my step sister, walked in with her usual air of dominance and superiority. Her smirk was dagger, sharp and cruel.

"Well, well, if it isn't the royal queen," she sneered in a mockery tone. "You're all dolled up for a man who doesn't give a f**k about you. Do you even know who you're marrying?"

I shoot her a murderous glare, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me shiver.

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspirational whisper. "Damian Adams," she said, her eyes glistening with malice. “The devil incarnate himself. A man who brutally crushes anyone in his path. How does it feel to be the next lamb to the s*******r?”

Her words sank like stones in my chest. I had heard whispers of Damian Adams-a name that struck into even the bravest heart. But before I could process the weight of her revelation, a voice, deep and commanding, filled the room.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The room fell into eerie silent. Dora’s smug expression crumbled as she turned toward the door, her face draining of its color. My breath seized as I followed her gaze.

There he stood tall—Damian Adams. His presence was overwhelming, his sharp grey eyes scanning the room with an intensity that left no corner untouched. When his gaze landed on me, it lingered, pulling me into a silence that buzzed with unspoken words.

Dora trembled with fear like the ground should swallow her up alive, her hands gripping the side of her dress.

He moved toward me with a deliberate grace, his towering frame cutting through the tension like a knife. My fingers fumbled with the hem of my dress as his proximity made the air feel heavier.

When he finally stopped in front of me, he crouched slightly, his eyes meeting mine. A smirk played on his lips as he spoke, his voice low and magnetic.

“Can we leave, my lady?”