Chapter 1
940words
Under the spotlight, I, Fiona Lancaster, glide across the room in my six-figure Chanel haute couture gown. Wine glass in hand, I flash an impeccable smile at my husband's business partners.
The annual Lancaster Foundation charity gala sets the tone for New York's high society.
And I am Silas Lancaster's "trophy wife."
Our marriage is a transaction.
A year ago, my father's company collapsed overnight, and he himself "went missing." Just when creditors had me backed into a corner, Silas Lancaster appeared.
Like a knight in shining armor, he swept in and resolved all my troubles.
His condition was that I marry him.
Silas is New York's financial tycoon. Cold, handsome, and wealthy, he possesses a magnetism that no one can resist.
He's standing at the entrance of the ballroom right now, a full hour late.
The moment he appeared, the room shifted to his gravity. He barely acknowledged the directors and bankers swarming toward him; his piercing gaze cut through the crowd and locked onto me.
He strode toward me.
He brought the night's chill with him, mingled with his signature cologne. Ignoring my outstretched hand, he pulled me into his arms and, in full view of everyone, gave me a kiss that was almost predatory.
My pulse raced wildly.
"You look so beautiful tonight it makes me want to hide you away," he whispered against my lips, his voice a secret between us.
This is Silas.
He is a perfect, charismatic bastard. He'll spend one night entangled with another woman, then the next morning, play the devoted husband, draping me in jewelry worth millions.
He gave me everything except loyalty and love.
I endured it all because it was part of our deal. My compliance was the currency with which I repaid his heavy "favor."
"You're late." I slipped from his embrace, maintaining the poise expected of a hostess.
"An emergency meeting." He dismissed it casually before turning to a senator, slipping effortlessly into his flawless social persona.
I quietly withdrew to the side and picked up a glass of champagne.
Just then, Savannah Green approached.
Savannah, Silas's chief assistant, daughter of his "family friend." The woman everyone knew about but no one dared mention—his true "intimate companion."
Tonight she wore a form-fitting red gown, a deliberate contrast to my elegant, moon-white attire.
"Fiona, you look beautiful tonight." She raised her glass with a smile that never reached her eyes. "Silas has always had good taste."
"Thank you," I replied coolly, not taking the bait.
"You're so lucky." Savannah lingered, moving closer and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
Her words slithered into my ear like venom: "Fiona, you're… pitifully naive. Do you still believe daddy just 'went bankrupt and ran away'?"
My blood turned to ice.
"Went bankrupt and ran away"… this was the story Silas fed me when he first "helped" me. He claimed my father had failed in his investments and abandoned me.
"What do you mean?" My voice betrayed me with a tremor.
"Oh?" Savannah feigned surprise, covering her mouth in mock horror. "He really didn't tell you anything? Poor little Fiona. Your father, Robert Windsor, didn't 'run away'."
She savored my blanching face, leaning in closer to deliver the cruel truth:
"He's in prison."
"He was sentenced to prison for 'betraying' the Lancaster Group and stealing crucial funds! Silas's father literally died from the shock of it all!"
Savannah's lips curved into a "sympathetic" smile: "Silas is brilliantly cruel. He keeps you—'the sinner's daughter'—by his side, looking at your face every day as a reminder of past betrayals. Your title as 'Mrs. Lancaster' is actually quite a poetic form of torture."
Revenge.
The word pierced my heart like an ice pick.
I had always thought our marriage was just a cold transaction. I believed he was my benefactor who rescued me after my father "ran away."
I never imagined my father was in prison!
I never imagined the true nature of this transaction was such a calculated torture built upon hatred.
All his "kindness," all his "possessiveness"—merely weapons in his arsenal of revenge. His charm was just bait, designed to make me fall in love before he shattered me completely.
"You don't look well, Fiona." Savannah's face wore a mask of "concern."
Nausea surged through me like a tidal wave.
I pushed past her and fled toward the restroom.
I gripped the cold marble sink, my body heaving with dry heaves.
Was it Savannah's words that made me sick? Or Silas's hypocritical "benefactor" act?
Neither.
With trembling hands, I pulled out the small box I'd been carrying all day.
A pregnancy test.
Two clear, damning red lines stared back at me.
I was pregnant.
I was carrying the child of a man who hated me to his core, who married me only to torture me.
I stared at my reflection—a ghost with paper-white skin.
Savannah's little performance had delivered the final blow.
I had foolishly hoped this child might become a turning point, a chance for Silas to truly accept me.
Now I realized this child would be just another innocent sacrifice in his "necessary evil" game.
I wiped my mouth and straightened my gown, composing myself.
When I emerged from the restroom, something in my eyes had changed.
The banquet continued uninterrupted. Silas remained the king holding court. He caught my eye and raised his glass, a question in his gaze.
I didn't acknowledge him.
Silas, your revenge game ends now.
But what you don't know is that in this game, you're about to lose far more than you could possibly imagine.
