Chapter1
1064 Words
Chapter One: The Bride and the Bargain
POV: Stella Anderson
“I didn’t marry him for love. I married him for war.”
The chapel was breathtaking, like a dream borrowed from someone else’s life.
Crystal chandeliers sparkled from vaulted ceilings. Every chair was filled with New York’s most powerful faces: billionaires, board members, media moguls. The flowers lining the aisle had been imported from Italy. The lace on my dress cost more than my father’s entire factory. And the diamond ring on my left hand wasn’t mine, it belonged to the man across from me.
Jeremy Sanchez.
The boy who used to smirk when I dropped my books in high school. The boy who watched while his friends whispered cruel things behind me in class. The boy who had the world at his feet… and still needed someone else to feel smaller to stand taller.
He didn’t recognize me at first.
Too many years. Too much money. Too much arrogance to imagine that the woman his parents handpicked for his sham of a marriage could be the same girl his friends used to call “Anderson the Anemic.”
But I remembered him. I remembered everything.
His features were sharper now cleaner lines, a jaw that looked carved from money and war. He wore his arrogance like it was tailored. Custom-fit. And when he looked at me today, he finally saw it.
The recognition. The flicker. The brief, undeniable twist of discomfort in his eyes.
He knew.
The priest’s voice echoed between us. I barely heard the words. Something about love. Honor. Loyalty. The irony made me want to laugh.
There was nothing real about this marriage. This was a contract. A transaction. A show.
Jeremy needed a wife before the end of the quarter or he’d forfeit his inheritance, a clause buried in his grandfather’s will that required a legal marriage to solidify control over the Sanchez empire. No marriage, no money.
Tristan, his younger cousin, was the backup heir and he’d been circling like a vulture since the old man fell ill. One missed deadline, one excuse, and Tristan would claim everything.
So Jeremy needed a bride. Fast. And my family needed a miracle.
My father’s company had tanked after a series of failed investments. The debt collectors had started calling my mother directly. We were drowning and the Sanchez family offered a lifeline. A gilded noose in the shape of a wedding ring.
They promised security. A blank check. My brother’s school tuition. My mother’s hospital bills.
All I had to do was stand at the altar. Smile. Obey. Sign the papers.
But I didn’t come here to be saved.
I came here to make Jeremy Sanchez regret ever underestimating me.
---
“You may now kiss the bride.”
The room held its breath.
Jeremy stepped forward with a precision that made the audience swoon. His hand rose, not to cup my face, but to graze the air beside my cheek. His lips brushed just past the corner of my mouth.
A kiss that said, You mean nothing to me.
He smiled for the cameras. I smiled back.
“Try anything,” he whispered, voice like silk-wrapped steel, “and I’ll end you.”
I held my smile steady. “You won’t see it coming.”
His gaze sharpened, just for a second. Then we turned to face the crowd.
Applause erupted.
Photographers snapped like vultures. My mother clutched her pearls with pride. His father gave a stiff nod, satisfied.
From the outside, we looked perfect. From the inside, I was already counting the days until this arrangement exploded.
---
That night, we arrived at the Sanchez estate. Jeremy’s ancestral prison, passed down through generations of men who valued power over people. The mansion loomed ahead, its windows glowing like watchful eyes.
Inside, everything gleamed: marble floors, gold leaf ceilings, fireplaces burning for no one.
The staff stood in neat rows to greet us like royalty.
Jeremy didn’t look at me once.
We climbed the grand staircase in silence. A butler led us to the master suite. Double doors. High ceilings. One bed.
Of course.
I stepped inside and waited until the doors closed behind us.
Jeremy unbuttoned his jacket, loosening his tie like nothing about today meant anything. “You can take the left closet. I assume you’re not planning to sleep in the hallway.”
“You assume a lot,” I said coolly.
His brow lifted. “You’re right. I assume you know how to act like a wife.”
“Funny,” I murmured, “I was assuming the same thing about you.”
He turned away with a humorless laugh. “Let’s just get through the next six months without killing each other.”
“Six months,” I repeated. “And then what?”
“You get your money. I get the company. We walk away.”
I nodded slowly. “Unless something happens to change the plan.”
He turned sharply. “Like what?”
I met his gaze. “You tell me.”
Silence stretched between us, taut, sharp, full of things unsaid.
He broke it first. “I’m not here to be your villain, Stella. Just don’t try to be mine.”
I walked past him, trailing my fingertips across the edge of the dresser. “Oh, Jeremy…”
I looked back at him. “You were my villain a long time ago.”
---
Later that night, I stood at the window, still in my wedding gown, watching the city lights blur beyond the estate gates.
My chest was tight. Not with nerves but with restraint.
This house wasn’t a home. This marriage wasn’t real. But the revenge I’d waited years for?
That part was very real.
I reached for the drawer beside the bed, pulled out the envelope I had tucked away weeks ago.
Inside were the names of the people who used to laugh with Jeremy. The ones who made my teenage years hell. The ones who helped him bury my confidence and salt the earth.
One by one, I’d find them. One by one, they’d remember me.
But Jeremy?
He’d learn that not every enemy shows their teeth, some smiles… right before they bite.
Stella isn’t just here to fake a marriage, she’s here to settle scores. Jeremy has no idea the war he’s walked into.
- Writer
