The Groom Who Ruined Me

Chapter 6

The silence in the dim VIP lounge was suffocating. Alec’s hands remained planted on the desk on either side of Clara’s hips, trapping her in the narrow space between his broad chest and the glowing computer terminal. His gray eyes burned with an intensity that made her entire body tremble.

"You framed him," Clara repeated, her voice cracking as she fought back a fresh wave of tears. "The footprint leads directly to your office terminal, Alec. You blackmailed me into this marriage just to cover your own tracks."

Alec didn't flinch. Slowly, he released his grip on her chin. But he didn't back away. Instead, he reached past her shoulder, his arm brushing against her silk dress as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Look closer, Clara," he commanded, his deep baritone vibrating near her ear. "If I wanted to destroy your father, I wouldn't leave a trail that ends at my own desk. I am a lot of things, but I am not careless."

With a sharp click of the mouse, Alec pulled up a secondary layer of data hidden beneath the system's sub-routine logs. Columns of code shifted, and a new set of routing numbers appeared on the screen.

Clara squinted at the text. "What is that?"

"It’s an IP mask," Alec explained, his voice cold and calculated. "The person who initiated that fifty-million-dollar transfer wanted the legal team to find your father's digital signature. And if your father ever hired a forensic accountant to dig deeper like you just did, the trail was designed to stop right here, at my personal terminal. It’s a double-blind. The real thief framed your father for the theft, and framed me for the cover-up."

Clara’s mind reeled. The room felt like it was spinning. "Then... who actually took the money?"

Alec struck another key. A financial distribution chart opened. "The fifty million didn't vanish into a Sinclair offshore account. It was laundered through three shell corporations before being used to purchase a controlling share of microchip patents. Patents that were officially registered last week by Vance Global."

Clara gasped, the name hitting her like a physical blow. "Julian Vance?"

"Julian has been trying to bleed Sinclair Enterprises dry for three years," Alec said, his jaw tightening into a hard, rigid line. "But he needed an inside man. Someone in my executive suite who has access to my private encryption keys. Your father didn't steal that money, Clara. He was an easy target because his logistics company handled our shipping data. Julian’s inside asset used your father as a scapegoat to blindside us both."

Clara looked from the screen back to Alec’s stormy gray eyes. The sheer malice she had seen there on their wedding night was gone, replaced by a calculating, protective edge. "If you knew this, why didn't you tell the police? Why force me into this marriage?"

"Because Julian knows your father kept an offline backup ledger of those shipping files," Alec said, leaning in closer, his breath hot against her skin. "The moment your father was arrested, Julian started looking for that ledger. If he found it, he would destroy it, and the truth would die. I had to get to you first. I needed a legal reason to bring you into my inner circle, to keep you under my roof where Julian’s men couldn't touch you."

"So this whole cruel groom routine..." Clara breathed, her hazel eyes searching his face. "It was all a show?"

"A necessary one," Alec murmured, his gaze dropping momentarily to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. "Julian has eyes everywhere. If he thinks I married you out of malice to ruin the Hastings name, he relaxes. He thinks he won. But if he suspects for a single second that you and I are looking for his inside asset, you become a liability he will permanently eliminate."

Clara swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation crashing down on her. She wasn't just a captive wife; she was sitting on top of a corporate landmine. She looked down at her bare feet, then up at the man who had completely upended her world.

"I want a deal, Alec," she said, her voice finding a sudden, sharp clarity.

Alec raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amused respect passing through his gray eyes. "You’re in no position to negotiate, Clara."

"I am," she countered, lifting her chin. "You need my father's data keys to unlock those encrypted shipping files, and I’m the only one who knows where he hid the offline access codes. I will help you find the traitor inside your company. I will play the submissive, broken bride for your cameras and your rivals. But I want your word in three conditions."

"Name them."

"First, my father gets transferred to a private medical facility tonight, with full security. Second, the moment the real traitor is exposed, you publicly clear the Hastings name and restore our assets. And third..." Clara took a deep breath, her heart hammering. "The day the truth comes out, this marriage is legally dissolved. You grant me a full divorce, and I walk away with my freedom."

Alec stared at her, his expression an unreadable mask. The silence stretched between them for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he straightened up to his full height, extending his large, hand toward her.

"Deal," Alec said softly. "We are partners now, Clara. But remember—to the rest of the world, we are still enemies."

Before Clara could reach out to shake his hand, the heavy brass door handle of the VIP lounge rattled. Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.

Someone was coming.

"Masks on," Alec whispered sharply.

In a fraction of a second, the cooperative partner vanished, and the cold, dominant billionaire returned. Alec grabbed Clara’s waist, yanking her away from the desk and pinning her against his chest. With his free hand, he reached down, snatched her heels from the floor, and shoved the folded paper back into her hand.

"Act," he muttered under his breath.

The door swung open, revealing the tall, honey-blonde figure of Julian Vance. He stood in the doorway, a champagne flute in his hand, a lazy, mocking smirk plastered across his handsome face.

"Well, look what we have here," Julian purred, his amber eyes scanning the scene. "I noticed the happy couple missing from the ballroom. Am I interrupting a private marital dispute?"

Alec didn't let go of Clara’s waist. He looked up at Julian, his gray eyes flashing with an engineered, icy arrogance.

"You're interrupting my wife learning her place, Julian," Alec sneered, his tone dripping with deliberate cruelty. He tightened his grip on Clara’s waist just enough to make her gasp, playing the role perfectly. "She thought she could hide up here to avoid her duties downstairs. I was just reminding her of the terms of her contract."

Clara bit her lower lip, letting her eyes well up with a few tears. She dropped her head against Alec’s shoulder, looking thoroughly defeated, the picture of a broken, humiliated bride. "I'm sorry, Alec," she whispered, her voice trembling on cue. "I'll go back downstairs."

Julian’s smirk faltered for a brief second, a flash of genuine calculation crossing his eyes as he looked at Clara’s apparent distress. "A bit harsh, don't you think, Sinclair? Even a caged bird deserves a breath of fresh air."

"What I do with my property is none of your business, Vance," Alec snapped coldly, guiding Clara past Julian toward the door.

As they bypassed his rival in the narrow doorway, Clara kept her head down, playing her part flawlessly. But beneath the layers of midnight-blue silk, out of Julian’s line of sight, her fingers tightly squeezed Alec’s hand. Alec’s fingers squeezed back in response—a silent, secret confirmation of their dangerous new alliance.

The trap was set. Julian thought he was playing them, completely unaware that the groom and the bride he tried to ruin were now coming for his empire.