Secret Marriage Contract with The Alpha

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.

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Dahlia pushed against the heavy oak doors of the Ballard Estate. The central air conditioning blasted her face the second the gap widened. The sudden freeze made her shiver. She dug her fingernails into the cheap canvas strap of her tote bag.

The crystal chandelier in the foyer blinded her. She squinted, her retinas burning as they tried to adjust to the aggressive luxury. It was a stark contrast to the dim, flickering bulb in her cramped apartment.

Heel clicks echoed against the marble floor. Eveline Ballard descended the spiral staircase. She held a martini glass in her right hand.

Eveline stopped dead in the center of the hallway. She positioned her body to completely block the path to the living room.

Her eyes dragged up and down Dahlia's faded trench coat. A smirk pulled at the corner of Eveline's mouth.

"I heard about the Mcdonald family auction last week," Eveline said. Her voice was light, floating in the cold air. "It must be devastating to watch your entire life sold off to the highest bidder."

A sharp pain pricked the center of Dahlia's chest. She forced her spine to snap straight. She locked her eyes onto Eveline's.

Dahlia's gaze drifted down. She noticed the clasp on Eveline's limited-edition Cartier bracelet. It was fastened backward.

The metal dug awkwardly into Eveline's skin. It was a glaring sign of someone trying too hard to wear something they weren't used to. The insecurity of new money trying to intimidate old money.

Eveline took a step forward. The smell of strong gin and expensive perfume invaded Dahlia's space.

"Don't even think about eyeing the Ballard family trust fund," Eveline whispered. Her grip on the martini glass tightened. "You are a charity case now."

Dahlia let out a short, flat laugh.

"I have zero interest in anyone's charity," Dahlia said. Her voice was steady. The air around them seemed to shift, the pressure entirely on Eveline now.

Footsteps sounded from the second floor. Cindi Matthews appeared at the top of the stairs. She lifted the hem of her silk dress as she walked down.

Eveline's face transformed instantly. The malicious sneer vanished. A sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her lips.

"Cindi, you look beautiful tonight," Eveline called out at her stepmother.

Dahlia's stomach churned. The bile rose in her throat at the fake display. She swallowed hard, forcing the nausea down for her mother's sake.

Acie Ballard walked down right behind Cindi. He wrapped a thick arm around her waist. He looked every bit the protective patriarch.

Acie walked straight toward Dahlia, his heavy footsteps muffled by the expensive rug. He stopped just short of Eveline's line of sight, shielding his next move from his malicious daughter. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Dahlia's face. He reached slowly into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket. His fingers emerged holding a crisp, pre-written check.

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