The Billionare Vendetta Bride

My life did not seem to be proceeding in this direction. I always felt I would be safe, tucked away in the peaceful corners of existence, far from the drama and violent games strong people play. Now here I am, headed for the lion's den-into a marriage that seems more like a trap.

Approaching Blackwell Enterprises' soaring glass doors, I can sense the weight of the decision resting on me. Winter's bite sharpens the air; I shiver even with my nicest coat on. From the gut knotting, not from the cold. How did I get myself here? How did my life land in this disorganized mess?

Three months ago, the day my world fell apart started the process.

My father had always been proud, from his vantage point. He raised his head high even as scandalous bankruptcy whispers began to fly around us like vultures. Maybe he thought someone with the Carter name could never really fall, or maybe he felt he could outrun his mistakes.

I used to think as well.

When I got home from work that day, he was sitting in the dark, the weight of all we had been avoiding squarely falling about us. The debtors had come to visit. Our family's company was about to fail, and the quietly growing controversy in the background was about to explode.

His voice shaking in a way I had never heard before, he had gone on, "I need you to do something for me, Belle". Surprised me was the panic in his eyes, the sensitivity buried under his assurance for so long.

What is it, Father? I asked, hoping whatever cure he devised would not be as bad as it sounded.

He then dropped the bombshell: Alan Blackwell. As if that were the one thing that could save us from the impending disaster. He shrieked the name. You are going to marry him.

I chuckled at first. That sounds wild. Aside from the rumors-the stories of how he transformed a struggling company into one of the most powerful in the city, destroying his competitors mercilessly-I knew little about Adrian. It felt silly to marry him.

The truth hit me like a cold. My father had set it up; he had introduced me to a horrible man. Not knowing if this was a dream, I froze, unable to breathe. Now this was my reality.

And here I am, in front of the towering skyscraper. It signifies what I am about to lose: my freedom, my choices, my life as I know it. I inhale deeply and continue, each step bringing me closer to a destiny I never wanted.

When the doors slide open and I walk inside the perfect marble foyer of Blackwell Enterprises, I find the cold sterility of riches and power. It is terrifying even if I cannot show anxiety. Not present here. Not in front of these people exactly. Especially not in front of him.

The receptionist shows me courteous disinterest, but I can feel she knows who I am-who I am about to become. Blackwell, Mrs. The word looks strange, unsuitable, like wearing a crown fashioned of thorns.

"Miss Carter, Mr. Blackwell is expecting you," she says, her voice as beautiful as her clothes. She motions toward the elevator, and I nod in thanks-even if my heart is thumping so fiercely in my chest I'm sure she can hear it.

Entering the elevator, I press the top-level button. As the doors close, I catch my mirror wall reflection. My eyes appear haunted, as if a woman is going to her execution. Maybe that's what this is-a deliberate, slow march toward my ruin.

Adrian's workplace strikes me as somewhat basic when the elevator doors glide open. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame New York City's skyline, and for a minute I am in wonder at the incredible view. But the weight of what is approaching clouds the beauty.

I watched him then as well.

Adrian Blackwell stands behind his large desk and studies me with those exact, analytical eyes. His presence commands and amplifies the space, much as a storm brewing just under the surface. He radiates discipline; he is tall, perfectly groomed in a tailored suit that fits him like armor, and.

"Isabella," he says, his voice silky and deep but with an edge. "I began to worry if you would show up."

Hard swallowing helps me to ground myself. "You left me few choices, did you?"

Though he smiles, there is no warmth about it. No, I think I did not.

Though I cannot, I wish I could yell at him. In Adrian's world, I have quickly found that emotions are weaknesses and vulnerabilities are taken advantage of.

Though my voice is barely a whisper, I force myself to contact his eye. "I know why you're doing this." There is no rescuing my family here. This has to do with retaliation.

His smile diminishes, and for the first time, I see a flutter of something dangerous in his eyes. He moves cautiously, every step close. He responds softly, "You are smarter than I would have credited you for." You do not know, though, half of it.

I should be scared, but instead, I get a spark of revolt. Why not you then tell me? For me, why? For today?

He pauses for a long time not responding. He just watches me as if he is choosing what to do next. Then he says, in a dreadful calm, "Your father destroyed my family. I shall pick from his hand-off everything. And Isabella, you just got started.

The words hit me like a kick to the belly, but before I can respond the office door swings wide, and a large man I have never seen before charges forward. His face is austere; his eyes are hateful; the air in the room changes.

"Ah, Gregory," Adrian says, his voice austere. "You merely happen to be on time."

Gregory, Stanton. Whipped in the commercial circles I have always avoided, the name is familiar. Originally Adrian's mentor, he is his competitor today. The man hid in the darkness, only waiting for his chance to attack.

My pulse thumping, I peel between them. Whatever this is, it is above my expectations.

Staying calm, "I didn't realize we were having company," I say.

Gregory smiles with the dagger-sharp clarity. "Oh, Isabella, you'll find that business is always looking in our direction."

My heart raced in my chest realizing I had entered something considerably more dangerous than a simple marriage. Adrian's taste for revenge is only the starting point. Other forces are engaged, ones I still can not understand.

Gregory's eyes stay on me a minute too long, and I start to become cold. This transcends Adrian's simple getting even-based revenge. It's a game, one I find myself playing right now.

I won, to let myself be exploited so freely though.

The lights flutter exactly as I am about to say something, anything. The building shakes just briefly before everything returns. Adrian's eyes widen as Gregory's smile diminishes. There looks to be a flaw.

Then the alarms go off screaming.

Before I could even register what was happening, Adrian takes my arm and draws me near. His voice strained, he continued, "Stay with me."

But when the anarchy envelops us, I understand I could be safer facing the devil I do not know than the one I recently married.

Considering that this goes beyond a convenience marriage.

We are living through war here.