Married to My Killer's Son

an Who Destroyed M

oom, my glass of champagne barel

en V

decade. He doesn't know me. Doesn't know that his very existence is the

ed, and his face as sharp as the blade I'll one day drive into his chest. His smile, that signature smirk, is everything that has destroyed

ther woman at this gala. Dressed in a black evening gown that hugs my curves just enough to be n

beneath the elegant mask, there's only fury. Fury that si

ound Damien, waiting, watching, learning. My place in this world wasn't by accident, and neith

his

s V

cloth, trained in the same ruthless ways. But Ares is... different. There's a tension to him, a sharpnes

s just a job-an assignment. But somewhere along the way, I started to fee

s this: Ares V

I'll use to finish what my mother started. To make sure that

s. His gaze flicks across the room, catching mine for a brief moment. His eyes are dark, un

I'm wat

le that pulls at the corne

made that clear from the beginning. But to the girl I once was, the one who swor

war, sometimes you have

him laugh with the other high-society figures, his face a perfect mask of charm and power.

host in

rtles me, and I glance down, expecting a message f

leave tonight

detached, the urgency unmistakable. There's

my stomach. I've been waiting for this moment. Waiting for him to make the first move, waiting for the

ss the room. This time, there's something in h

ut Damien. Forget about the years of planning. Forget

e a b

s i

cused on the task at hand. The world outside is cold, dark, and filled

king against the marble floor echoes in the empty hallway. I can feel the weight of

the mirrored walls. My reflection stares back at me-dark eyes, tight jaw, and the same determi

reflection, a questio

same woman who

, and the ride feels lik