Fated to be Together

In the heart of the grand masquerade ball, Ivy stood alone in a shadowed corner, her eyes absorbing every enigmatic detail of the opulent mansion. The stone walls rose around her in mysterious shades of black and blue, their cold surfaces echoing whispers of forgotten secrets. The entire hall was alive with a captivating energy—music flowed like liquid silk through the air, blending seamlessly with murmurs of conspiracies and hidden truths. Every guest present was draped in elegance, their suits sharp and their masks meticulously crafted, each one a symbol of the night’s allure and mystery. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, as if every masked attendee harbored a secret waiting to be unveiled. At the center of this elaborate spectacle lay a long ramp leading to a raised platform, where a dazzling exhibition of jewelry stole the spotlight. Models, part of this enigmatic performance, gracefully paraded along the ramp, their necks adorned with high jewels that shimmered under the ambient light—each piece more exquisite than the last. For Ivy, this night was the culmination of months of relentless effort and sacrifice. Amidst the sea of glittering opulence, she reached up to touch the masterpiece she had designed—a necklace of breathtaking beauty. Crafted with precision, its delicate strands of diamonds coiled around her neck. Intertwined within the design, emeralds set in gold caught the light with every subtle movement, embodying both elegance and a hidden strength. Ivy’s POV: It’s almost time… “You better pray this works—remember, your contract says you have to take in at least $10million a year, otherwise you can kiss your stupid pack goodbye,” Kyle snapped, pulling me out of my trance. His words, harsh and laced with urgency, echoed in the back of my mind as I tried to steady my racing pulse. Kyle Brentwood—son of the beta of Silvermoon Pack, and now, my husband by contract. Last year, everything shattered when my father, Teagan Riorson, was killed in an organized rogue attack. The council wasted no time twisting the truth, eager to paint him as a murderer—a trafficker of human lives for profit. They had planned another fate for me—a union with a sleazy, fifty-year-old council member whose reputation reeked of corruption. But then Kyle stepped in. As the beta, he claimed it was his duty to protect our pack. With a promise to act as a stand-in Alpha, he offered an alternative contract marriage. We would pretend to be fated mates; I’d help him run the pack while leveraging my father’s jewellery design company to generate the necessary income. Our charade was my only shield against the council’s evil intentions. “Don’t worry this will work - no one’s ever done something like this before. An auction for one-of-a-kind limited edition high jewellery, A month before the royal ball where the prince turns 21. People have travelled across the world to access these auctions” The contract was simple but unyielding: 1. I had to generate at least $10 million a year to fund the pack, and on top of that, I was required to provide Kyle and his family with another $10 million for their living expenses. 2. There was to be no form of intimacy between us. I was to remain a virgin, and any breach of this rule would immediately nullify the contract, transferring the pack entirely to Kyle. 3. Kyle was strictly forbidden from touching the $10 million allocated for the pack. I held the reins of decision-making for the pack, and while Kyle executed my orders, he was free to manage the funds given to him as he saw fit. 4. If I were to find my fated mate, I was compelled to forfeit my claim on the pack and join him—no matter his rank—though I would still retain the right to make decisions for the pack, leaving Kyle as the official Alpha. The council wasn’t thrilled about the loophole I’d discovered, but they had no choice but to accept it rather than risk losing face. In the first few months, our marriage functioned like a well-rehearsed performance. We paraded as a power couple in public—attending high-profile events and exuding confidence—while at night, we retreated to the Alpha Suite, each of us in our own room. Kyle eventually revealed his true colors. It became painfully clear that he cared little for the pack’s well-being—his sole ambition was to hoard money, power, and fame. He craved the title of Alpha not to lead, but to flaunt his rank and command obedience through fear and privilege. Convincing him to see reason was like trying to capture smoke - impossible. Things took a turn for the worst when Kyle found his fated mate- Elena. Elena was like a sudden storm I never expected. Hungry for power and fame, she resented staying in the shadows. In her mind, she should have been Luna—the one who ruled alongside Kyle, not hidden away like a forgotten idea. As time went on, their actions became more cruel. They started to harass and manipulate me, using every chance to push me around and make me doubt myself. I couldn’t understand how I let this happen. I had once believed in my own strength and the promise of a future that honored my father’s legacy. Now, I felt weak and like a helpless little girl, trapped in a web of lies and schemes. The truth was hard to accept—I had lost my determination, and I allowed myself to be controlled by the very people I had trusted. I looked at the crowd again, feeling the excited buzz and the anxious energy in the air. Taking a deep breath, I turned to the mirror. My makeup was simple—natural with a touch of winged liner and a bold red lip. The seamstress had done an amazing job. I’d always thought of myself as oddly shaped. I’m only 5ft 3, with a short torso compared to my long legs. I never had much in the way of curves—small bust and a slim waist—until my hips decided to take on a life of their own, making me a size small on top but needing large pants. I never imagined I could find something that fit like a second skin. The gown was made of satin crepe, black as obsidian, and off-shoulder. It was tailored to highlight an hourglass shape with a slit running from my thigh down. I paired it with strappy black heels and black gloves that reached up to my elbows, made of the same material as the dress. My outfit was simple, yet it perfectly highlighted my necklace. I put on my black lace mask, carefully threading it through my long hair, which cascaded in soft twists and braids. “It’s showtime!”