His to Break, Hers to Heal

Name: His to Break, Hers to Heal
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

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Romance | Ongoing

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She woke up married to a stranger. He woke up with a reason to never let her go. Anne never believed in fairy tales-especially not after the life she barely survived. But one drunken night changes everything. She finds herself bound by a marriage certificate to Damon Blackwell, a cold, commanding billionaire with eyes like ice and a need for control that borders on dangerous. He says it was fate. She calls it a mistake. But Damon doesn't do regrets. And he definitely doesn't do letting go. Anne is everything he never knew he wanted-soft where he's sharp, light where he's drowning in shadows. And when her past resurfaces to threaten the fragile peace she's built, Damon makes one thing clear: He'll destroy anyone who tries to take her. Even if it means destroying himself. In a world of secrets, scars, blackmail, and obsession, love might not be enough. But Anne isn't looking for enough-she's looking for real. And real love? It breaks. It bleeds. It burns.

Suspense Forced love Flash marriage CEO Arrogant/Dominant Flash Marriage CEO

Chapter 2 Predator's Patience

06-03 23:07

Chapter 1 Strangers with rings

AUTHOR

Hello my lovely readers,

Thank you to anyone who is willing to give my story a try!

I would also like to say, as this story gets more or no reads I totally understand that it won't be for everyone. I am ALWAYS open to feedback from people who genuinely want to help me improve this story.

BUT I am begging you... be kind! Not just to me, to everyone! If you find yourself not enjoying this story, it's totally okay to stop reading. But at this point, writing is a solace for me and something I do for fun. It is very disheartening get comments from people that just don't like the mood or tone of the story. That's not as easy to fix as grammar mistakes! Nor do I really want to.

PLEASE BE NICE!!

|Warning|

• This story will contain, strong language and mature theme

• This is a work of fiction. Any relation to person, living or dead, is an abnormal coincidence

• I present my characters as my babies. They are flawed and they will fuck up; every human being does and so will they. I know that characters can get real frustrating but everything they do- they do for a reason!

Without further ado let's dive into the first chapter

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Anne's POV

⸻

The first thing Anne felt was the pounding.

It wasn't in her head-it was her head. A dull, rhythmic throb behind her eyes that made her wince as morning sunlight pierced through the hotel curtains like a dagger. Her mouth was dry, her body achy, her brain foggy as hell.

She shifted, groaning softly at the strange sheets, the unfamiliar ceiling, the heat of a body next to hers-

Wait. Body?

Her eyes flew open.

Beside her, sprawled on white linen like he owned the damn planet, was a man. A beautiful, half-naked man with tousled dark hair and a tattoo peeking over his bare shoulder. He was asleep-no, not asleep. Watching her. Quietly. Like a predator waiting for its prey to notice the cage.

Anne gasped and scrambled out of bed, sheets tangling around her legs as she nearly hit the floor.

"What the-who-?" she stammered, backing away. Her head spun, her stomach churned. "Who are you?"

He didn't flinch. Didn't sit up. Just smiled. Slow. Dangerous. Amused.

"Good morning, wife."

Wife?

Anne blinked. Once. Twice. Her fingers curled into fists.

"No," she said flatly. "No, no, no. That's not funny."

"You weren't joking last night," he said, stretching his arms behind his head, muscles flexing. "You were very... convincing."

"No, see, I was drunk," she snapped, pacing now. "Very drunk. And I don't even do one-night stands, let alone impromptu marriages! What the hell is going on?"

He sat up then, all slow movements and smug confidence. He was shirtless, yes, but not sloppy. There was elegance in the way he moved-controlled, expensive. His gaze followed her like a tether, pulling her back with every step she took.

And then she saw it.

The ring.

On her finger. A thin, gold band glinting mockingly under the morning light.

"Oh my god," she whispered. Her breath caught in her throat. "Tell me this is a joke."

"No joke," he said, standing now. He was tall-too tall, easily over six feet. His presence seemed to take up the whole room. "You asked me to marry you. In the lobby. Right after you spilled champagne on my shoes and told me I had the 'voice of a villain in a billionaire romance novel.'"

Her jaw dropped. "I did not."

"You did. And then you insisted we do something 'crazy and spontaneous.'" He paused. "Your exact words."

Anne's hands flew to her face as flashes from the night before began creeping in. Loud music. Too many tequila shots. Her friends daring her to flirt with a stranger.

And then... a man in a black suit. Piercing gray eyes. A voice that felt like heat and gravel. A smile that promised trouble.

Oh no.

"I need water," she muttered, heading for the bathroom. "And maybe an exorcism."

The light in the mirror was brutal. She looked like a disaster-mascara smudged halfway to her jawline, lipstick smeared, hair a tangled mess of curls and regret. Her dress was wrinkled. Her thighs ached. And the scratch on her shoulder?

She didn't even want to think about how that got there.

She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, trying to breathe. This can't be happening. It's a dream. A prank. A blackout-fueled nightmare.

But then he appeared in the mirror behind her. Towering. Calm. Inevitable.

"What's your name?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Damon."

"Last name?"

"You'll find out soon enough." His voice was low, smooth as silk with something dangerous coiled beneath. "Though technically, it's your last name now, too."

Her eyes snapped to his in the mirror. "No. Absolutely not."

Damon stepped closer, his presence pressing in from behind, his reflection just a whisper away from touching hers. "You're very stubborn when you're sober."

"I'm not your wife," she said, spinning around to face him. "This was a mistake. We're getting an annulment. Immediately."

Damon tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle. "You said you wanted something different. Something that would make you feel alive."

Anne's breath caught in her throat.

"Don't quote my drunken nonsense back at me."

He stepped even closer. "That wasn't nonsense."

There was something in his eyes then-still mocking, yes, but deeper now. Something unreadable. Something obsessed.

Anne's instincts screamed at her to run. But her body... her body was remembering how he felt. The way his hands had touched her like she was fragile and his to break. The way his voice dipped when he said her name-if he ever did.

"Where are my friends?" she asked suddenly. "The girls I came with-"

"They left early. I told them you were safe." His tone was casual, like they were discussing the weather.

"You told them?"

He didn't answer. Just leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I'm going to order breakfast. You like waffles, right?"

"You don't know what I like," she snapped.

His smile widened, dark and sure. "That's what the honeymoon's for."

Anne stared at him. The sheer gall of this man. The nerve. The... magnetism.

He was like a black hole. Dangerous, massive, and impossible to escape.

"You're insane," she whispered.

Damon pushed off the wall and walked to her-slow, deliberate steps that made her heartbeat stutter. He reached out and brushed a stray curl from her cheek, his touch gentle, his eyes anything but.

"Maybe," he murmured. "But I'm your kind of insane, Anne. And after last night? You're mine."

She didn't speak. Couldn't.

Because somewhere deep in her chest, past the panic and confusion and utter absurdity of it all, something inside her whispered the most terrifying thing of all.

You don't want to leave.