Scarlett Hale never wanted to marry Damien Cross, but when her stepmother forced her into a contract to save her father's company, she had no choice. Damien was in a coma. Everyone believed she'd soon be a widow and tossed aside. But then he woke up. Enraged and trapped in a marriage he never agreed to, Damien swore to ruin Scarlett, and if they ever had children, he'd destroy them too. Four years later, Scarlett returns, hiding a secret that could cost her everything. She's not alone. She has twins, his twins. And they know exactly who their father is. When her son hacks Damien's system and sends him a taunting message, the ruthless billionaire realizes his past isn't buried after all. *"Come and get me, asshole!" Now, Damien is coming for answers. And Scarlett must do everything in her power to protect the only family she has left... even if it means facing the man who once vowed to destroy them.
Chapter 1 The Contract of Chains¬¬
Scarlett Hale's fingers trembled as she clutched the sleek fountain pen, the marriage contract lying open before her. The document was thick, every page sealed with a golden Cross Corporation insignia, as if mocking her with its finality. Her signature was the last thing needed to seal her fate.
Across the long mahogany table, Vanessa Hale sat with a triumphant smirk, her perfectly manicured nails drumming lightly against the polished surface. Scarlett's father, Richard Hale, sat beside her, his shoulders hunched, his face pale with resignation. The once-mighty businessman now looked like a man on the brink of collapse.
"Sign it," Vanessa urged, her voice syrupy sweet but razor-sharp underneath. "Unless you want to watch your father's legacy crumble."
Scarlett's stomach churned. It was a cruel game, one she had no hope of winning. Marrying Damien Cross, a man in a coma, was a transaction, nothing more. The Cross family had agreed to settle her father's debts in exchange for her name on that contract. Once Damien inevitably passed away, she would be nothing but a discarded widow.
But if she refused? The company her father had spent decades building would be gone. He would be left with nothing. Homeless. Destitute. And all because Vanessa had maneuvered them into this impossible situation.
Swallowing hard, Scarlett forced her shaking hand to steady as she signed her name on the last line. Scarlett Hale-Cross. The ink barely dried before Vanessa snatched the document away.
"Good girl," Vanessa cooed, her smirk widening. "You'll be Mrs. Cross tomorrow."
Scarlett's breath hitched. "Tomorrow?"
Vanessa leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs with leisurely grace. "You didn't think you'd have time to plan a fairy-tale wedding, did you? Damien's grandmother, Eleanor Cross, wants the ceremony done immediately. She still believes he'll wake up one day and wants his wife waiting for him when he does."
Scarlett's pulse pounded in her ears. What if he woke up?
Vanessa scoffed at the thought. "Don't worry. He won't."
Scarlett wasn't so sure.
The next morning, she found herself standing in front of the Cross estate, an imposing fortress of wealth and power. The sprawling mansion loomed over her like an unforgiving beast, its darkened windows staring back at her with indifference.
The wedding was a cold, impersonal affair. A private judge officiated the vows, reading from a script, his tone devoid of emotion. Scarlett stood beside Damien's hospital bed, her trembling fingers clutching a bouquet of white lilies. Damien lay motionless, his strong, chiseled features eerily serene, as if he were merely sleeping.
"Do you take Damien Cross to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Scarlett swallowed against the lump in her throat. Her voice barely above a whisper, she said, "I do."
With no groom to place a ring on her finger, the judge simply nodded and declared her married. Just like that, Scarlett Hale was now Scarlett Cross.
The Cross family lawyer handed her a certificate, and the reality of her situation settled in. She was legally bound to a man who had never even looked at her.
As the guests-mostly Cross family associates-filed out, Scarlett was left alone in the sterile, dimly lit hospital room. The heart monitor beeped steadily beside Damien's bed, a cruel reminder that her husband was alive but unreachable.
She sat beside him, exhaling shakily. "You're lucky," she murmured. "You don't have to see this mess."
Then, just as she reached to adjust the blanket over him, something happened.
Damien's fingers twitched.
Scarlett froze, her breath catching in her throat. Had she imagined it?
She waited, heart hammering. But Damien remained still. The silence in the room was suffocating.
For the first time since signing that contract, real fear crept into Scarlett's bones.
Scarlett spent her wedding night in a grand bedroom that felt more like a gilded cage. The Cross estate was suffocating in its elegance, its pristine white halls feeling more like a mausoleum than a home.
Sleep evaded her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Damien's fingers twitch. It was probably nothing-a muscle reflex. But what if it wasn't?
By morning, the household staff delivered breakfast to her quarters, their expressions unreadable. It was clear they saw her as an outsider, an intruder in their master's domain.
A knock on the door made her tense. The butler, an older man with a stiff posture, stepped inside.
"Mrs. Cross, Mrs. Eleanor requests your presence for breakfast."
Scarlett stood, smoothing out the silk of her nightgown. She had no choice but to face the formidable matriarch of the Cross family.
At the grand dining table, Eleanor Cross sat at the head, her sharp gaze cutting through Scarlett like a blade. The woman exuded power, dressed in an ivory suit, her silver hair twisted into an elegant bun.
"You look tired," Eleanor observed, sipping her tea.
Scarlett forced a small smile. "It's been overwhelming."
Eleanor set her cup down with a soft clink. "You married into this family. Overwhelming is an understatement."
Scarlett remained silent. She wasn't about to beg for sympathy.
Eleanor's piercing eyes bore into hers. "Do you believe he'll wake up?"
Scarlett's breath hitched. "I don't know."
Eleanor nodded, as if expecting that answer. "You'll stay by his side. A wife should be loyal."
Scarlett swallowed the bitterness in her throat. Loyal? To a man she had never met?
"Yes, ma'am."
Eleanor studied her for a long moment before shifting her gaze. "You may go."
Scarlett rose, feeling dismissed. As she turned to leave, Eleanor's voice stopped her.
"If he wakes up, Scarlett, you better pray he likes you."
Scarlett's blood ran cold.
What if he didn't?
As she stepped out of the dining room, her mind raced with possibilities. What if Damien had been aware of everything happening around him? What if he despised the idea of being forced into a marriage he never consented to? What if, when he woke, he saw her as nothing more than an opportunist?
She wandered through the corridors of the estate, each step heavier than the last. The walls seemed to close in on her, suffocating in their opulence. When she finally reached Damien's room again, she hesitated. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of medical equipment.
Taking a seat beside his bed, she studied his face. He was handsome in a way that felt unfair-strong jaw, high cheekbones, thick lashes that rested against his pale skin. Yet, there was no warmth, no presence. He was trapped in a world she could not enter.
She reached out, hesitated, then brushed a hand lightly over his. "Damien," she whispered. "If you can hear me... I need you to wake up."
His fingers twitched again. This time, she was certain.
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