Heiress; Prisoners Of Love

Olivia Hale's pov

If someone had told a sixteen-year-old me that I'd one day be standing in a silk gown marrying the man I once believed was gay and whose family destroyed mine, I would have laughed in their face.

No, not laughed… I would’ve told them to go straight to hell. But here I am standing in front of a man carved out of ice and shadows… Dear Dominic Blackthorne. The boy I once admired from afar. The man I now loathe more than anyone else in the world.

"You may now kiss the bride," the officiant says, his voice as sharp as a blade slicing through the thick silence.

Dominic doesn't flinch. He simply leans in, his lips brushing against mine with the indifference of a business transaction. It’s brief, and cold as if he were sealing a deal rather than claiming a wife, and in truth, that’s exactly what this is.

A deal.

A merger.

A trap.

---

Three months ago, I was living in a crumbling apartment above a run-down bookstore. I didn’t have much, just my mother’s old records, a half-dead cactus I named Bruce, and the hollow weight of grief that never quite went away.

My father had died disgraced. Accused of embezzling from his own company, The Hale Industries. Our family name was dragged through the mud, our assets seized. Everyone abandoned us. Friends, Investors, even my godmother stopped returning my calls. But I never stopped believing in my father. Not for a second.

And then guess what? Dominic Blackthorne summoned me.

The Blackthorne estate was exactly what I expected: sterile, vast, and uncomfortably perfect. The kind of place that made you want to whisper even when no one was listening.

I sat in the leather chair across from him, trying not to sink. Trying not to let him see the sweat on my palms.

He hadn't changed much. Sharper jaw, broader shoulders, the same emotionless eyes I remembered from years ago when he'd spoken at some charity gala in a tux that probably cost more than our old house.

I had admired him once from behind velvet ropes and glossy magazine pages. He was poised, unreadable, and strangely… elegant I'd say. I thought he was untouchable, safe, and untainted by the brutal world our parents ruled in. Hell, I even thought he was gay.

All the signs had been there… like, no scandalous headlines, no social media flirtations, and the way he always seemed vaguely bored by every woman who threw herself at him. And maybe it was easier for my younger self to put him in that box. A box where he couldn’t hurt me but now I unfortunately know better.

"Marry me," he said as if he were asking me to pass the salt.

“Excuse me?” I said as I laughed in disbelief.

“You heard me... One year, we marry, stay out of each other’s way, and attend public events together In exchange, I clean your father's name, restore the Hale legacy. Your inheritance is returned, and Hale Industries becomes whole again.”

I stood up. “You’re out of your mind. Why the hell would you…”

“Because the board needs stability,” he said, his eyes were cool. “And nothing says stability like a Blackthorne-Hale alliance.”

“Why me?”

He tilted his head. “Because I know what your father did for mine.”

“What did you say?” My breath caught.

Dominic looked away for the first time, jaw tightening. “Your father covered up a scandal that would’ve destroyed us both. I was fifteen. I never forgot.”

“It's just one year. All you have to do is stay in my house, no communication needed.”

“And now you want to play hero?” I snapped. “You think marrying me will make you feel better about your guilty conscience?”

“This isn’t about guilt,” he said. “It’s business. But if it helps, I don’t particularly want to marry you either. You ain't my type fortunately”

That made two of us.

I should’ve walked away. Should’ve slammed the door and left him standing there in his damn tailored suit and thousand-dollar indifference.

But then he opened a folder on his desk and slid it toward me.

Inside was the proof, documents, testimony, and records. My father hadn’t stolen a thing. It had all been fabricated by someone inside the Blackthorn family.

“You’ve known this whole time?” I whispered.

“I suspected,” he replied. “Now I know.”

“You could’ve come forward years ago. You could’ve saved us.”

He met my eyes then. “I wasn’t ready to burn my family down.”

My voice trembled. “And now?”

“Now I’m willing to burn everything.”

~~~

Ha! Hear that? So I said yes.

I married him.

And now with a ring on my finger that feels more like a shackle than a promise, I step off the altar and into a life I never asked for.

Our wedding reception is a circus of champagne flutes and fake smiles. Reporters swarm us like flies to honey, hungry for the fairytale headline. But this isn’t a fairytale.

Dominic offers me his arm. I take it because I have to. Because the eyes of the world are watching.

“You clean up well,” I say through clenched teeth.

“You look stunning,” he replies smoothly. “Pity about your personality.”

I smile at the cameras. “It’s cute how you think that’s an insult.”

We walk through the crowd, two perfect strangers pretending to be in love. I know how this game works. My mother used to tell me love was just politics with roses.

But she never told me what to do when the politics turned into poison.

As we take our seats at the head table, Dominic leans toward me and with a voice low enough only I can hear, “This is the beginning, Olivia. Don’t forget why you’re here.” He said.

I grip my champagne glass so tightly my knuckles turn white. “I’m here because you left me no choice.”

He meets my gaze, unreadable. “You always have a choice. You just didn’t like the other one.” Funny enough maybe he’s right. But I will play this game.

I will wear the dress, the smile, and the mask and when the time is right, I will tear this empire apart from the inside out.

That's a vow.