Isabella

The name Lucian Devereux reverberated in my mind like poison.

I was frozen, sitting motionless, my thoughts tangled in a web of disbelief and confusion. Mr. Whitmore’s words hung in the air, each one sinking deeper, delivering a blow to what was left of Moreau Enterprises.

He did this.

He destroyed my family.

He ruined everything.

And that night... I had unknowingly surrendered to him.

A deep ache twisted in my stomach.

“Isabella?” Mr. Whitmore’s voice cut through the fog, but I could barely focus on his words. “Did you hear what I just said?”

I struggled to respond, my body refusing to move for a moment. But eventually, I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his, forcing a nod, though my mind felt detached from reality, trying to process what he had just revealed.

“He’s expecting an answer,” the unfamiliar investor added, his voice filled with impatience.

My head swam. “An answer to what?”

Whitmore exchanged an uncomfortable glance with the other man before sliding a brown envelope across the table toward me. It was as if the whole world had momentarily paused. “Lucian Devereux made an offer.”

My fingers trembled as I carefully opened the envelope. The papers inside felt heavier than they should have been. Each motion, each attempt to remove the papers from the envelope, seemed to weigh me down further, like a sinking ship dragging me with it.

My vision blurred as I read the first line, and everything in the room felt distant, muffled.

Lucian Devereux didn’t just want to destroy Moreau Enterprises.

He wanted to buy me.

“Is this some kind of joke?” My voice came out icy, barely able to hold the rage that was swelling within me. I could feel it bubbling up from my core, threatening to consume me. But I held it back. Just.

“It’s not,” Whitmore replied with an unsettling calm, his face full of resignation. “He wants to meet with you.”

I lifted my gaze slowly, as confusion twisted with disbelief. “A meeting?”

The investor, uncomfortable with the unfolding conversation, cleared his throat. “He wants to discuss… an agreement.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

“What kind of agreement?” I asked, my voice soft but edged with panic. I needed to understand what was happening, why it was happening, but the words weren’t forming in my mind. It all felt surreal.

The silence in the room seemed to stretch on for an eternity. The walls closed in, and I couldn’t breathe. Finally, Whitmore broke the silence.

“He wants a marriage.”

My body froze, my heart seemingly stopping altogether.

The blood drained from my face, leaving me pale and numb. My head swam, as if the air had been sucked out of the room, and I couldn’t catch my breath. For a moment, everything blurred. I could only hear the deafening thud of my own heartbeat.

“This is a joke,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, more to myself than anyone else, disbelief and horror overtaking me. The words felt too foreign to be real.

“It’s not,” Whitmore insisted, his tone firm but sympathetic. “Lucian wants you. He wants you to marry him, Isabella.”

The air thickened, and the room seemed to shrink around me. I could hardly breathe.

My chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths, each one more desperate than the last. My eyes dropped back to the papers, as if I could somehow make sense of the words in front of me. But they were just letters on a page—words on a contract—nothing more than a reminder of everything I had lost.

The black letters on the page screamed at me.

Marriage.

I would belong to him.

A flash of last night tore through my mind—the feel of his hands on me, the possessive way he touched me, the way he kissed me as if I was already his. I could still feel the imprint of his gaze, the way it consumed me, the way he made me feel as if I were a part of him, owned by him, even before I knew his identity.

Did he know?

Did Lucian know that it was me?

Or was I just another pawn in his grand game, one he intended to break, to own?

“Why?” My voice was raw, a jagged whisper that barely escaped. “Why does he want this?”

The investor shifted uneasily in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the tension in the air. “The Devereux family has a reputation to maintain. If he wants to solidify his position in the European market, he needs a strategic marriage. An arrangement that involves your name.”

My name.

Not my money, because I had none left.

Not my company, because he had already destroyed it.

Just me.

I was all that remained of the Moreau legacy.

Lucian Devereux didn’t just want to win. He wanted to make me surrender, to break me, to show me that in the end, he controlled everything.

“This is insane,” I whispered, a bitter laugh escaping my lips, though there was no humor in it. It felt hollow, empty.

“Isabella,” Whitmore tried again, his tone softer, more empathetic now. “You know you don’t have many options.”

I laughed again. This time, it was a laugh of disbelief, of desperation. “So, he takes everything from me, and then extends his hand, offering me a throne I should be grateful for?”

“I understand that this is difficult for you,” Whitmore began.

“Do you?” My nails dug into the glass table. “Do you truly understand what it means to be forced into a marriage with the man who destroyed everything I’ve ever known? Who took everything from me?”

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating.

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat growing louder, each thud filled with an uncontrollable surge of anger.

Lucian Devereux could have just bought Moreau Enterprises and left me with nothing. But no, he wanted more.

He wanted me.

He wanted to own me.

And now, I was caught, cornered, with no way out.

“What happens if I refuse?” I asked, my voice as cold as ice. “What happens then?”

The investor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Then, you lose any chance of recovering anything. Your debts will continue to grow. Any remaining influence your family once had will be erased.”

Of course. Lucian had me exactly where he wanted me.

“I would have to sign a contract?” I asked, the weight of my words pressing down on me. The thought of signing it felt like I was signing away my very soul.

“Yes.”

My hands gripped the papers so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

If I signed, it meant Lucian would have control over me.

But it also meant I would have access to him. The man who had destroyed everything I loved, the man who had taken everything from me.

I would have a chance to get close to him.

To understand him.

To find out what he wanted.

I took a deep breath, my chest tight, lifting my gaze from the papers.

“Schedule the meeting.”