Married For Show

CHAPTER 7

​Chloe’s POV

​The Manhattan penthouse was suffocatingly quiet, save for the soft, expensive hum of the central air conditioning.

​I sat on the plush velvet sofa in my living room, a crystal glass of Pinot Noir resting between my manicured fingers. My shiny, perfectly styled blonde hair fell over my shoulders in flawless waves, and my warm, calculating brown eyes were locked onto the glowing screen of my tablet.

​The headline of Vogue Paris stared back at me, accompanied by a high-resolution photo of my sister and Alexander Ray at the Chateau de Valois in Nice.

​“New York’s New Power Couple Sweetly Conquers the Riviera.”

​The image showed Alex’s massive hand wrapped possessively around Ruby’s waist, his head tilted down as if he were whispering a profound secret against her neck. Ruby looked sickeningly radiant in an emerald green silk dress, her vibrant, fiery ginger hair capturing the Mediterranean sun.

​I let out a low, mocking laugh, taking a slow sip of my wine.

​Idiots. The whole world is full of absolute idiots.

​They actually believed it. They believed the cold, untouchable Alexander Ray had suddenly fallen madly in love with a girl whose family was drowning in near-fatal corporate debt. They didn't know about the five-year contract marriage tucked away in a secure vault in Ray Enterprises. They didn't know that my father’s precious oil empire, Bells Oil, had been bought and paid for using my sister as the currency.

​I didn't care about Bells Oil. If my father’s company burned to the ground tomorrow, I wouldn't shed a single tear. I didn't care about the family legacy. What I cared about was the title. Mrs. Ray. That title belonged to the queen of New York high society, and it was supposed to be mine. Ruby was the adopted, soft-hearted daddy's girl who always got the gentle praise. I had spent my entire life watching her get the quiet affection, watching my father look at her with pride while I was treated like a high-society accessory by our mother.

​A deep, ancient resentment curled in my chest. It wasn't one specific moment that made me hate Ruby; it was the accumulation of a thousand silent comparisons growing up in the Bells household. She was always the one who stayed grounded, while I was molded into a superficial socialite. Well, if they wanted me to play the shallow, spoiled sister, I was going to play it to perfection—and then I was going to burn her fairytale to ash.

​I didn't love Alexander Ray. Love was a liability. But I knew the heat of his body. I knew the taste of his lips from that wild, unhinged night at the Saddleson Hotel back in December. He had been reckless, trying to drown his own demons, and I had been more than willing to be his vice.

​If I exposed the contract marriage openly, my mother would find out it was me and cut me off. No, a true mastermind doesn't leave fingerprints. You destroy an empire by removing one brick at a time, slowly, until the whole structure collapses on its own.

​I picked up my burner phone, my fingers flying across the screen as I drafted an encrypted email to a prominent, anonymous European tabloid editor. I didn't attach the contract papers—not yet. Instead, I attached a grainy, timed-stamped security photo from the Saddleson Hotel elevator from last December. Alexander Ray, clear as day, pulling a blonde woman into his arms.

​“A little gift for your Riviera coverage,” I wrote typing anonymously. “The doting billionaire husband wasn't so doting in December. Ask him about the Saddleson Hotel before you print your next fairytale.”

​I hit send. A dark, satisfied smile spread across my lips. Enjoy your honeymoon, Ruby. The clock is ticking.

​Alex’s POV

​The French villa was peaceful at midnight, but my mind was a battlefield.

​I stood on the balcony of the west wing, a lit cigarette held between my fingers, though I hadn't taken a single puff. The memory of Ruby in that black bikini by the pool, and her brilliant, devastating takedown of Julian Vance earlier today, was swirling in my head. She was a force of nature. She was supposed to be a temporary business arrangement to save her father's debt, but she was quickly becoming the center of my gravity.

​Suddenly, the heavy vibration of my secure personal phone against the stone railing startled me.

​I picked it up, my brow furrowing when I saw an unknown, heavily encrypted international number. Thinking it was an emergency corporate call from New York, I answered it, pressing the phone to my ear.

​"Ray," I said coldly.

​"Hello, Alexander. You sound incredibly tense for a man on his honeymoon."

​A cold dread slammed into my stomach. The voice was smooth, dripping with forced sweetness and complete malice. Chloe.

​"How did you get this number?" I rasped, my voice dropping into a deadly, quiet register as I stepped further into the shadows of the balcony, ensuring the glass doors to the interior were completely shut.

​"Oh, please. A girl has her ways when she’s motivated," Chloe chuckled on the other end, the sound grating against my nerves. "I've been looking at the photos of you and my dear sister in Nice. Quite the performance, Alex. You almost look like you actually mean it."

​"If you're calling to play sisterly games, Chloe, I don't have the time," I snapped, my jaw clenching. "Go back to shopping."

​"Don't take that tone with me, Alexander. We both know the truth," she said, her voice dropping its playful edge, replaced by a razor-sharp coldness. "I know about the five-year contract. I know exactly how much my father's company cost you. But don't worry... I'm not going to run to the press with that. After all, that would be so cliché."

​I narrowed my eyes, my knuckles turning white around the phone. "What do you want, Chloe?"

​"I want what’s mine," she whispered. "You and I both know you chose the wrong sister. Ruby is a little bird playing in a golden cage, but I know who you really are, Alex. I know what you look like when you lose control. Remember December? The Saddleson Hotel?"

​My breath caught in my throat. A wave of intense guilt and anger washed over me. That night in December had been a colossal mistake—a moment of pure, self-destructive madness before I had ever truly known Ruby.

​"That was nothing," I growled. "It was a mistake."

​"A mistake that can easily find its way onto the front page of every European tabloid currently tracking your little honeymoon," Chloe threatened softly. "Imagine how the media will spin it. The 'devoted' Alexander Ray, cheating on his bride with her own sister. Imagine what that will do to your family's stock prices. Imagine what it will do to Ruby's fragile little heart when she realizes her husband is a fraud."

​"If you touch her, if you say a single word to her—"

​"I won't say a word to her," Chloe interrupted, her tone chillingly calm. "I’m going to let the world do it for me. I’m giving you a warning, Alex. When you get back to New York, you're going to realize that a contract marriage can easily be broken. And when it is, I’ll be waiting to take Ruby’s place. Have a wonderful night, brother-in-law."

​The line went dead.

​I slowly lowered the phone, my heart thudding violently against my ribs. A cold sweat broke out on my neck. Chloe wasn't just throwing a tantrum; she was calculating. She was willing to play a long, anonymous game to systematically isolate Ruby and force my hand, entirely unbothered by the collateral damage to her own family.

​I looked across the sprawling courtyard toward the dark windows of the east wing where Ruby was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the storm her sister was brewing from across the ocean.

​Chloe wanted to play a game of shadows? Fine. But she underestimated one thing. I wasn't just protecting a contract anymore. I was protecting Ruby. And I would burn the entire city of New York to the ground before I let anyone tear her away from me