SILLAGE

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Madel Cerda

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Romance CEO Billionaires Age Gap One-night Stand

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WARNING: THIS IS A COPYRIGHTED BOOK UNDER THE GOVERNMENT OF THE PHILIPPINES, OWNED BY JMFELIC. INFRINGERS WILL BE DEALT WITH ACCORDINGLY. THE AUTHOR HAS GIVEN MOBOREADER THE RIGHTS TO PUBLISH THIS BOOK IN THEIR APP/WEBSITE.

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< Serena >

Paintings.

I always love them. Whenever there was an art show near Manhattan, I make it a point to go, check the artworks and possibly buy one. Or two. Or three of them.

What I look for in a painting are the strokes the painter uses, the use of colors and how they blend in with the picture in general, and of course, the drawing.

I'm a sucker for fantasy-inspired paintings. Fantastical landscapes, still pictures, mythical creatures, men and women wearing weird clothing, oh yes. I collect them all. They always reach out to a part of my soul that I had been guarding since I lost my parents. They always call out to a part of me that I'm not sure what.

Maybe, my parents as painters could be a reason. They influenced my tastes after all. But deep inside me, I knew there was always something special about these type of paintings that I couldn't quite figure out.

One rainy day, I ran across an antique shop in downtown Manhattan about to be closed by the bank for bankruptcy. The different antique displays were spread all over the street in the hopes that some passers-by would still buy them.

I caught sight of a beautiful painting of a landscape. Breathtaking it was and purely, for lack of a better word, out-of-this-world. The painting showed a mountain range with its slopes covered in autumn trees. In the center of this mountain range, just nestled on top the hill, was a silver castle. The details were extraordinary. Magical even. I couldn't resist its call, so in the end, I bought it. Plus, I didn't want it to be wet with the rain. I wanted to give it a home.

The antique shop owner, an old lady probably in her late sixties, was gracious enough to give me a discount considering the painting had smudges on the edges due to its aged state. I was kind enough to refuse it. If she was in bankruptcy, at least my full payment of the painting would help her in some way.

"May the magic be with you always, " she said with a smile as we parted.

I just shrugged my shoulders never really thinking much of about her words.

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