Married my Father's Rival

2. No Strings Attached

Elena barely slept that night. Damien’s words played on a loop in her mind, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. Revenge. The cold, biting way he’d said it sent shivers through her, but it was the ultimatum that truly haunted her. Midnight.

She sat in the family garden, the early morning light casting a soft glow over the meticulously trimmed hedges and blooming roses. Normally, this was her sanctuary, the only place she could breathe amidst the chaos of her father’s world. But today, even the beauty of the garden couldn’t calm her.

“Elena.”

Her father’s voice broke the silence, his presence as imposing as ever. Henri Moreau was a man who commanded attention, his tailored suit immaculate, his eyes sharp. But today, there was something different about him—something fragile beneath the surface.

“You disappeared from the party last night,” he said, taking a seat beside her.

She hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “I needed some air.”

Henri studied her for a moment, his expression softening. “I know things haven’t been easy for you. I’ve asked a lot, more than any father should. But you’ve always risen to the occasion. I’m proud of you, Elena.”

Her chest tightened at his words, guilt mixing with anger. She wanted to scream, to demand why he had kept her in the dark about their financial troubles, why he had let things spiral to the point where Damien Alaric could dangle her future like a puppet on strings.

Instead, she nodded. “Thank you.”

He smiled faintly, patting her hand before standing. “I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

As he walked away, the weight of his unspoken words settled over her. This wasn’t just about her. It was about her family, her father’s legacy. Damien knew exactly where to strike, and she hated that it worked.

---

Hours later, as the clock crept toward midnight, Elena found herself standing outside Damien’s penthouse. The sleek, modern building loomed above her, a stark contrast to the ornate Moreau estate. She hated being here, hated that she’d allowed herself to be cornered. But more than anything, she hated Damien Alaric for putting her in this position.

The elevator ride felt endless, her heart pounding louder with each passing second. When the doors finally opened, she was greeted by the sight of Damien himself, standing in the middle of his sprawling living room.

“You’re punctual,” he remarked, his voice as smooth as ever.

“Let’s not waste time,” she snapped, stepping inside. “You said I had until midnight, and I’m here. What’s next?”

He arched a brow, clearly amused by her defiance. “I like a woman who doesn’t mince words. Sit.”

She remained standing, her arms crossed. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

Damien chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly self-assured. “Suit yourself.” He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the dim light. “Have you made your decision?”

Elena took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his piercing gaze. “I’ll marry you. But I have conditions.”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted, her voice steady. “But if you want me to play your game, you’ll meet me halfway.”

Damien tilted his head, intrigued. “Go on.”

“First,” she began, “this marriage stays strictly business. No… expectations beyond what’s necessary to keep up appearances.”

His smirk deepened, and she hated how it made her pulse quicken. “Noted. Anything else?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, her cheeks flushing despite herself. “I keep my independence. My art, my life—it’s mine. You don’t get to control that.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded. “Agreed. But I have my own conditions.”

Of course he did. “What are they?”

“We’ll live under the same roof. Appearances, as you said, are everything.”

She swallowed hard, the thought of sharing a home with him sending a wave of unease through her. “Fine.”

“And you’ll attend all events with me,” he continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. “My world is not an easy one, Elena. If you’re going to be a part of it, you’ll play the role convincingly.”

She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to argue. “Anything else?”

Damien took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Just one thing.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, his voice a low whisper. “You may hate me, Elena, but you’ll never defy me. Do we have an understanding?”

Her heart raced, a mix of anger and something she refused to name burning in her chest. “Crystal clear.”

Damien straightened, his smirk returning. “Good. We’ll make the announcement at the charity gala next week. Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Alaric.”

Elena glared at him, her defiance unwavering even as her stomach churned. “Don’t call me that yet. This isn’t over.”

“Oh, it’s far from over,” Damien said, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous promise.

As she left his penthouse, the weight of what she’d agreed to settled over her. She had just made a deal with the devil, and she had no idea if she’d survive it.